As students go back to school in the midst of record-breaking summer heat, many are returning to overheating classrooms whose aging air conditioning systems can't keep up with extreme heat waves—if they even have air conditioning at all. 

Extreme heat has already caused school closures and disruptions across the country. In July, Milwaukee Public Schools shut down its Summer Academy and other indoor school programs for two days because of extreme heat. One day in May, 57 Philadelphia schools went remote and canceled all in-person activities due to soaring temperatures. That same month, a Washington, D.C. high school carried out a "heat evacuation" as classroom temperatures reached the mid-90s. Eight elementary schools in Doylestown, PA also closed for a day because old buildings couldn’t protect students from the heat. And in recent years, schools in Memphis dismissed students early as temperatures climbed to 110 degrees. 

During the 2024-25 school year alone, more than 9 million students at 10,000 schools nationwide experienced extreme heat- and weather-driven school closures or disruptions. These are not isolated inconveniences. They are warning signs that our school buildings and grounds were not designed for today’s new weather patterns.

It’s important to understand that students struggle to learn in hot, stuffy classrooms. Air quality, temperature, and ventilation can affect how students think, focus, and perform. Poor ventilation can impair cognitive function, while excessive heat diverts the body’s energy from learning, slows reaction time, and weakens attention.

In fact, research has shown that in schools without cooling, each 1° Fahrenheit increase in school year temperature reduces the amount learned that year by approximately 1%.

Extreme temperatures (80 to 90 degrees Fahrenheit and above) are known to exacerbate student absenteeism and disciplinary referrals, while poor indoor environments can also contribute to the spread of illness and exacerbate respiratory conditions like asthma, one of the leading causes of missed school days. Younger children, whose bodies and brains are still developing, are especially susceptible.

In medicine and education alike, we have seen how the environments where people spend their time can directly affect their health, well-being, and ability to thrive. We would never accept these conditions in a hospital. We should not accept them in a classroom.

At the same time, outdated heating and cooling systems are placing a growing financial strain on school districts. Across the country, energy costs are rising and becoming more unstable. For school leaders, that often means tradeoffs: dollars spent on inefficient energy systems are dollars not spent directly on teaching and learning. But there is a better path forward.

Modern HVAC systems, often paired with on-site solar energy, offer schools a way to deliver reliable heating and cooling while reducing exposure to volatile fossil fuel costs. These solutions can stabilize energy budgets over time and are increasingly supported by domestic manufacturing, including the production of heat pumps here in the United States.

Just as important, new federal tools make these upgrades far more accessible than they once were. Through energy tax credits and a mechanism known as Elective Pay, public school districts can receive direct financial support to invest in these improvements. That means lower upfront costs and faster payback, turning what was once out of reach into a practical, near-term option.

We are already seeing what this looks like in practice.

In Indiana, Center Grove Community Schools are demonstrating how modern HVAC upgrades can improve classroom comfort while helping manage energy costs, in part by replacing aging boilers, chillers, and fan coils with a geothermal heat pump system. In Virginia’s Prince William County, at the heart of the nation’s data center corridor, district leaders are acting to shield their budgets from steep projected utility increases. And in Wisconsin, a school in Menasha modernized its facility with a ground-source heat pump system, solar panels, and energy storage to deliver better air quality, lower costs, and create local jobs.

The benefits extend well beyond temperature control. Students are better able to focus and learn. Districts gain predictability in their operating costs. And communities benefit from more resilient, efficient infrastructure that reduces strain on the grid during periods of peak demand.

For school and district leaders, this moment calls for action. Now is the time to explore how these solutions can work in your community.

The environments we live in shape the health within us. Nowhere is that more immediate, or more consequential, than in the classroom.

We can improve student health and learning, strengthen our schools, and protect public resources at the same time. And we have real-world proof from communities across the country that this is not only possible, but doable.

The real risk is not the price of modernization, but the cost of continuing to send students and teachers into unhealthy, inefficient buildings unprepared for the realities ahead.

The future of humanity is being built along the world’s coastlines. Around 2.4 billion people live within 100 km (62 mi.) of a shoreline, including roughly one billion within 10 km (6.2 mi.). This narrow band of land, about 5% of the inhabited world, generates an estimated 30–50% of global GDP. It contains many of our fastest-growing cities, ports, energy systems, tourism economies, fisheries, and water infrastructure.

In this small sliver of the planet, the foundations of a new blue economy are already being laid, once set, they will be difficult to change. 

We have a narrow window in which to decide what kind of economy will emerge from the ocean. More than three billion people depend on the ocean for their livelihoods. Yet the ocean economy, valued in the trillions, is steadily eroding the ecosystems that make this activity possible. Fish stocks are under pressure. Coral reefs are approaching catastrophic thresholds. Mangroves, seagrasses, and wetlands that protect communities from storms and rising seas continue to disappear. Without deliberate intervention, this blue economy will simply default to the familiar extractive model that has already depleted so much of the natural world. But we have an opportunity to take a different path, to shape it instead around a more resilient and equitable form of prosperity.

The world must do more than simply slowing the depletion of our oceans. Instead, a net positive, regenerative, blue economy is needed. One that sets a higher standard: economic activity must give back more than it takes and help to rebuild the natural and social capital on which it depends.

This requires a different model of growth. Established industries such as shipping, ports, and fisheries need managed transitions that reduce pollution, decarbonize operations, rebuild stocks, and redirect harmful subsidies. 

Expanding sectors—including offshore renewables, aquaculture, and coastal tourism—must integrate ecosystem health and community benefit into their business models. This shift can unlock a new generation of companies focused on restoration, blue biotechnology, and ocean data, which create value by improving the health and resilience of marine systems. 

The good news is that we already know that this approach pays. Research suggests that a nature-positive economy could create more than three times as many jobs as business as usual, while investment in ecosystem restoration can generate nearly four times as many jobs as investment in oil and gas. As populations grow and AI reshapes labor markets, we need to be far more deliberate about the kinds of economic activity we encourage. Regenerative businesses offer a rare triple dividend: creating jobs, restoring critical natural systems, and accelerating the climate transition.

The opportunity is substantial, but regeneration will not emerge from thousands of disconnected projects and initiatives. Oceans function as systems, but our governance remains divided by ministries, sectors, permits, and political boundaries. We need to manage whole seascapes: connecting coastlines, watersheds, nearshore ecosystems and the people and industries that share them. Marine spatial planning can expose trade-offs, account for cumulative impacts and establish where development belongs, where restoration must take priority, and where activity should not proceed.

This governance must place Indigenous Peoples and local communities at its center. They are often the most experienced stewards of coastal ecosystems yet remain excluded from the decisions and capital that shape them. 

The Bird’s Head Seascape in Indonesia shows what a better model can achieve. Across 225,000 sq. km (over 86,800 sq. mi.), traditional community rights over land and coastal waters have been embedded in conservation planning since the early 2000s. Local and government authority has been connected, and tourism revenues help finance conservation and ecosystem protection. A network of marine protected areas now covers more than 52,000 sq. km (over 20,000 sq. mi.). Community-led tourism has diversified incomes, while former “bomb fishers” have been trained as coral gardeners. Ecological recovery, livelihoods, and local authority reinforce one another because they were designed not as separate entities, but as a single interconnected system. 

We now need global financial and entrepreneurial architecture to step up to take such models to scale. Public and philanthropic capital can reduce early risks; blue bonds, blended finance, and debt-for-nature swaps can mobilize larger pools of investment. Dedicated financing windows, patient capital, technical assistance, and venture-building support can help coastal entrepreneurs and cooperatives grow viable businesses. Technology and AI can lower the cost of monitoring, verification, and coordination, provided they strengthen good governance rather than substitute for it.

The next chapter of the blue economy will be judged by more than the wealth extracted from the ocean. Its true measure will be the fish stocks rebuilt, coastlines protected, jobs created, communities strengthened, and natural systems restored. The future of our societies is increasingly tied to the sea, and our prosperity will depend on learning to give back more than we take.

In late July, the Federal Bureau of Investigation received reports of cyberattacks on water facilities from utility companies in at least seven states in the United States.

One of those attacks, in Braham, Minnesota, a city of around 1,800 people, affected the functioning of a pump at a water treatment plant and threatened the water supply. Public works crews in the city quickly and impressively isolated the system, restored a backup, and had the water plant back up and running in around 90 minutes, according to Nate George, the mayor of Braham.

While this ad hoc response worked this time, much more is needed to make America truly resilient to hybrid attacks by malicious actors on the critical infrastructure that Americans depend on every day for water, power, healthcare, and financial transactions.

In April, the U.S. Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency issued a warning saying that Iranian-backed groups are targeting America’s critical infrastructure, including water systems. More capable adversaries of America, China and Russia, are also actively targeting critical infrastructure in the United States, according to U.S. officials. 

President Donald Trump said he does not believe that Iran is behind these most recent cyberattacks. Unnamed U.S. officials reportedly believe that Iran-backed groups are the likely culprits but also caution that the findings are preliminary and that there is a chance that the attackers may be impersonating Iran to stoke tensions.

Meanwhile. the Trump Administration has been gutting U.S. cybersecurity capabilities, cutting roughly a third of the federal cyber agency’s workforce at exactly the moment small utilities need it most. A new approach is needed. Washington needs a whole-of-society, resilience-based approach to deter and defend against these increasing hybrid threats to the American homeland.

Washington can learn a lot from its European allies. Europe has spent decades hardening its systems through a whole-of-society effort it calls “total defense.” Finland and Estonia are especially instructive examples. Finland runs a national supply agency that holds reserves of fuel, grain, and medicine and rehearses shortages alongside the private companies that would actually have to manage them.

Estonia fields a volunteer cyber unit within its Defense League, a militia under the command of its defense ministry. The volunteers are civilians with day jobs who train with the state and show up when attackers strike. They run exercise programs built around cyber resilience, information sharing, and public-private partnerships.

So what does Washington need to do to harden America’s water systems and other critical infrastructure? First, America needs to broadly embrace a whole-of-society “total defense” approach to homeland security, adopting and adapting innovative ideas from partners and allies.

More specifically, policymakers can take three specific steps now that will help prepare for, and perhaps deter, the next attack. First, they should renew the State and Local Cybersecurity Grant Program, a small grants program for states that helps build state and local level cyber defenses. The program has already lapsed once and now runs on year-to-year extensions, which is no way to fund a defense. Make it permanent and carve out a sizable share for water.

Second, Washington should set a response floor for water municipalities and measure it in hours. Electric utilities operate under binding federal cyber standards backed by real financial penalties. Water utilities have no equivalent, and the Environmental Protection Agency currently has no authority to impose one. Congress should give it a narrow version: every system above a modest size must be able to run manually for 72 hours and must prove it in an annual drill. This is not a technology mandate; it is a time standard, and it is the only number that matters once the pumps stop. Braham did it in 90 minutes. That should be the benchmark.

Finally, the U.S. needs to build the bench. There are roughly 50,000 small water systems in this country, and most have no dedicated IT staff at all. No grant program can hire its way out of that. Governors can act tomorrow with authorities they already have: cyber teams in the National Guard on standing state active duty orders, tied to a water mutual aid compact modeled on the one power companies use to restore each other’s lines after hurricanes. When a plant serving 1,800 people gets hit at two in the morning, somebody should already have the phone number.

A country that can afford 11 aircraft carriers can afford to teach 50,000 water operators to turn a valve by hand. Resilience is not a consolation prize for failed deterrence. By forcing an adversary to think twice about whether an operation will succeed, resilience is deterrence.

Every August, our country celebrates new beginnings. Families fill cars with bedding, desk lamps, laptops, notebooks, and high hopes. Students decorate dorm rooms and imagine the people they will become, while parents drive away with a mix of beaming pride and quiet, heavy lumps in their throats. 

Every August, I go back to 2006. 

Twenty years ago this fall, I helped my daughter, Reema, begin her freshman year at Virginia Tech. I remember believing she had her whole life ahead of her. Like every parent, I assumed the biggest challenges she would face would be exams, homesickness, and choosing a major. 

My family could never have imagined that eight months later, she would be among the 32 people killed in her classroom on April 16, 2007, coming home in a mortuary van. 

In the years since, mass violence has become a recurring nightmare in American life. Yet every August, millions of parents still make that same drive, entrusting their children to colleges and universities across the country. No parent should have to make that journey wondering whether their child will come home safely. 

We have learned a great deal since 2007. We know more about recognizing warning signs, responding to mental health crises, and building stronger safety protocols on campus. We know more about what proactive prevention requires. The problem is that knowing what works and consistently doing it are two different things. 

As another academic year begins, we cannot rely on prayers or goodwill to keep our students safe. While most colleges and universities spend phenomenal budgets emphasizing sports, campus events, and academics, parents need to ask the most important question: how safe is my child? We need sustained, measurable, and accountable action from lawmakers, university leaders, and citizens. 

First, campus safety cannot remain reactive. Every college president and administrator will tell you that student safety is a top priority. But a pledge to safety is not enough. Colleges should be able to demonstrate, through regular and rigorous self-assessment, where their vulnerabilities are and what they are doing to address them. 

Every single college and university should be using the 32 National Campus Safety Initiative, or 32NCSI. Through the VTV Family Outreach Foundation, in partnership with NASPA (Student Affairs Administrators in Higher Education), we launched this campus safety tool in memory of the 32 people killed at Virginia Tech. It gives colleges a framework for assessing critical areas of campus safety and infrastructure, including threat assessment teams, emergency communications, mental health services, and physical security.

The tools exist. The question is whether we are using them consistently, and whether we are holding ourselves accountable. 

Second, campus safety cannot begin when a student arrives at college. It must begin years earlier. Every elementary, middle, and high school should have access to evidence-based programs that help educators and school resource officers recognize concerns, build positive relationships, and address problems before they escalate. 

One such model is Preventing Problems by Promoting Positive Practices, or P5, developed by the Virginia Tech Center for Applied Behavior Systems with support from the U.S. Department of Justice’s COPS Office, and in conjunction with VTV Family Outreach Foundation. P5 provides a comprehensive safety model and training program for K-12 school resource officers and administrators to create a safety net for students when they are in the yellow zone, prior to entering into the red zone. Simply put, it creates a culture of caring. 

Finally, we need to restore national infrastructure for campus safety. The National Center for Campus Public Safety was established in 2013 to conduct research, develop best practices, and provide campus security training. Its federal support eventually lapsed after funding allocations ran out, and the federal government no longer maintains the Center as the sustained national resource it was created to provide. While archived federal documents and reports remain available through the Office of Justice Programs Virtual Library, an active national center is no longer doing the work it was created to do. This needs to change.

In 2026, there is no reason to wait for another warning sign, another missed opportunity, or another family to experience an unimaginable loss. When I watch parents drop off their freshmen this month, I do not want them to live in fear. Hope is a vital part of entering college, and every student deserves to experience the wonder of a new beginning. 

But hope is not a policy. If we truly want to honor the memory of Reema and the countless others lost to mass violence, we must match our back-to-school hopes with uncompromising action. 

Twenty years after I helped my daughter move into Virginia Tech, every parent should be able to drive away from a college campus believing their child has a whole life ahead of them. That belief should not be a matter of faith. It should be a matter of policy.