As the imperative for developing ecologically-regenerative food and farming systems penetrates deeper into our culture’s collective psyche, even college administrators are asking: “What does an eco-college look like?”

Almost every institution, from corporate to academic, now has some sort of sustainability director. The person hired for this position is supposed to help the organization become more eco-friendly, or at least promote a semblance of green-think. Raising institutional awareness about water usage, natural light, living roofs, local food sourcing and the type of napkins used, these staff members are an impressively persistent lot, often challenging entrenched ways of doing things.

In the last couple of years, I’ve been asked more and more, as part of a day’s speaking engagement, to address presidents, faculty, and operational staff regarding ecologically sensible changes. Points of tension arise from all sorts of areas. I always have a cheerleading section in the form of a couple of professors who promote permaculture or a group of highly active, engaged students ready to put worm beds in the dining common.

But these cheerleaders butt heads with many entrenched ideas, the most common being the near-universal notion that agrarianism is anti-intellectual. “Parents don’t send their scholars here to see sheep grazing the lawn,” one recruitment staff member responded after I suggested mowing the lawn with sheep. Interestingly, this prestigious school had pictures in the administration building, taken in the 1930s, of sheep grazing the lawn.

Integrating livestock or fruit trees in a scholastic atmosphere is almost universally perceived as a step back to primitive times. One school ripped out all of its apple and pear trees in the 1980s because the students were throwing them at each other. Perhaps edible landscaping does encourage primitivism. Farming and anything associated with it, in our mainstream culture, is viewed as something only dolts enjoy. I guess that makes me a dolt.

As I’ve watched this tension in numerous on-campus discussions, I’ve developed a laundry list of extremely radical ideas for collegians. It’s all about vision and selling something that makes economic sense. Ecological design and policy need to be attractive, economical, and intellectual. The intellectual component includes ethics, spirituality, and community outreach – like cultural leadership, blazing new trails, trips to the moon, that sort of thing. All colleges like to think of themselves as discovering new frontiers, going where no man has gone before.

As I’ve refined this laundry list, it has become much more aggressive and bold. No tiptoeing around the tulips. Go for the jugular. Get serious. Big 180-degree changes. That’s where the big paybacks are. And that’s what captures imagination. While it’s true that small steps are better than none, too often small steps don’t pay. For example, replacing white napkins with brown often doesn’t pay, whereas replacing napkins with a roll of paper towels on the dining tables can bring huge savings.

As I launch into this list, I need to thank Acres U.S.A. for providing a forum big enough and eclectic enough to push the edges of its own constituency. When I proposed this article to publisher Fred Walters, I fully expected to be told that this was outside the scope of Acres U.S.A. But true to cutting-edge eco-think, Fred embraced the idea and here we go, my Santa Claus list for a college eco-campus.

1. EDIBLE LANDSCAPING

This seems like such a no-brainer to me that I can’t figure out why more campuses don’t utilize it. An edible perennial plant does not take much more horticultural maintenance than ornamentals. Ornamental shrubs and trees need to be pruned and mulched to their drip line just like a pear, apple, or Juneberry.