{"id":15857,"date":"2021-11-23T10:56:02","date_gmt":"2021-11-23T15:56:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/ncseagrant.ncsu.edu\/coastwatch\/?page_id=15857"},"modified":"2024-08-16T15:44:39","modified_gmt":"2024-08-16T19:44:39","slug":"people-places","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ncseagrant.ncsu.edu\/coastwatch\/people-places\/","title":{"rendered":"People & Places: My Passion for Environmental Engineering"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n\n\n
Career guides offer murky explanations about what environmental engineers do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I recall the skeptical look on my mother\u2019s face when I recited the typical job description: \u201cI\u2019ll use science to solve environmental problems.\u201d Her puckered brow suggested she heard, \u201cI\u2019ll hug trees for a living.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ripples of doubt about my chosen major began seeping into my own mind in 2019 when, as a college junior, I sat down one early morning at 1 a.m. to register for spring classes. A quick survey of my peers in a GroupMe chat confirmed my suspicion: They also struggled to craft clear definitions of environmental engineering. \u201cI tell people we work with wastewater,\u201d texted one classmate. Another sent a meme of a caped superhero wrangling spreadsheets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Looking around the deserted library, I popped the last chocolate-covered espresso bean into my mouth and wondered, \u201cWhy did I ever decide to pursue this degree when, clearly, I have no idea what I\u2019m doing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eventually I started remembering my connections to the natural environment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father was a heavy equipment operator for Local 3, the largest construction trade union in the United States. He worked in waterways across the country dredging rivers, building levees, and creating drainage canals. Flood control solutions like these protect lives and property by forcibly directing flow away from certain locations and towards others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But when those measures fail, the results can be catastrophic, resulting in disasters such as the bursting levees in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, or lesser-known \u2014 but still highly destructive \u2014 flooding events, such as in rural areas of North Carolina.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Over the years, I have learned that brute-force flood control systems are no longer adequate. Those structures are frequently mangled by the water they were meant to hold back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have since realized that my passion is being part of an engineering movement that designs nature-based, resilient infrastructure that protects people and maintains community.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Real-world experience helped convince me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In 2020, the summer before my senior year, I began working with North Carolina Sea Grant on a study investigating how natural infrastructure can help farming communities in eastern North Carolina manage the risk of flooding across the Coastal Plain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was a communications intern and wrote a narrative script for a video highlighting the research team\u2019s collaborative efforts, which focused on Wayne County. As I interviewed engineers, economists, biologists, and designers, I realized that each specialist had a personal connection to the project. I began to see resilience in a different light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe can\u2019t wait another 50 years to be proactive,\u201d Michelle Lovejoy, executive director of the NC Foundation for Soil & Water Conservation, told me. Lovejoy coordinates the community outreach events for the project.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She shared a story about driving through Pender County one night in 2019, six months after Hurricane Florence caused mass flooding in the area. Miles of darkened homes suggested the community had all but vanished. Lovejoy wondered if residents would ever be able to return to their farm family way of life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s one thing to lose your home,\u201d she said, \u201cIt\u2019s another thing to be uprooted and never be able to come back to the place you know, the place you love, the place you live, the place your ancestors lived.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n During this project I often ruminated on the fate of Glen Christina, a family friend of mine. He lived his whole life in New Orleans. Even after Hurricane Katrina flooded his house in 2005 and displaced his family and friends, he couldn\u2019t bring himself to leave the one place where all his memories had been made.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Several years after Katrina made landfall, I received a call from the Orleans Parish coroner. Glen had died alone in his dilapidated home from an untreated abscessed tooth. Someone needed to claim his body to avoid a potter\u2019s field burial (an unidentified grave), and I was on the list of Glen\u2019s most recent cell phone contacts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Back then, I was convinced that if Glen had been able to repair his damaged home in a timely manner, he\u2019d still be alive. When the weather was wet or cold, he had spent so much time trying to find a s afe shelter that he couldn\u2019t focus on other aspects of health \u2014 like making dentist appointments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Talking with experts during my internship has brought me new perspective on Glen\u2019s situation. The hurricane had not only destroyed his roof but his social network. Friends who would have checked in on him or offered a ride had moved on to other states.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019ve learned that resilience isn\u2019t just about protecting the built environment. It\u2019s about safeguarding health, transportation, and commerce. It\u2019s about empowering people to support their communities before and after disasters occur.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/a>
PERSONAL PERSPECTIVES<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n
RESILIENCE REDEFINED<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n