The Art of Compromise:
Becoming a Human Ecologist on a Minimal Budget
Ellen Stewart

I sit on a tiled floor. The classified section of a local paper spreads out in front of me. I must compile a complete budget for living considering utilities, rent, car and insurance payments, food, and recreational costs. I need to find an apartment and job allowing me to maintain basic living expenses. The first time I did this I was praised for my reasonable goals, ability to place idealism before entertainment, and primarily my meticulous accounting. But I was in fourth grade; it was theoretical, hypothetical, and without consequence. I sat in the classroom of a young teacher, recently graduated from College of the Atlantic, idealistic by nature and creative in pedagogy. At nine years old, I didn't yet know I would follow in Megan Pennock's footsteps.

As a student at College of the Atlantic, I moved fourteen times; I am close friends and intense enemies with the classified section of The Mount Desert Islander. With each new home, I compiled a budget for living. I have crunched numbers, and no matter how liberally I set spending expectations I never ended up with a surplus.

I have lived (in no particular order) in communal cabins, a dorm room, large apartments alone, small apartments alone, small apartments with others, a single room cabin with my boyfriend and our two cats, a dilapidated trailer with what (by friendly terms) would be called white trash, and lastly (four months before graduating) settled into the perfect one-bedroom house that fits my budget and needs.

I have worked as a groundskeeper, weeder (yes, for forty hours a week I pulled weeds), tutor, farmhand, house/pet sitter, dishwasher, canoe trip leader, camp counselor, janitor, "dorm" mom, and bus driver. Each job kept my basic needs met (most of the time) but none paid for more than the just the basic bills. Moving constantly and working odd jobs created the foundation for my human ecological education. Learning how to live human ecologically outside of the framework on-campus living supports remains the most difficult challenge and rewarding experience of my education. Had I lived on campus beyond my first year, I wouldn't have gained the level of human ecological principles I have today.

I entered College of the Atlantic, idealistic and sure of myself. I was an educator, vegetarian, environmentalist, activist, Unitarian Universalist, and working class Mainer, and secure in all of these. All of these functioned as a complete entity despite the distinct and inherent differences between them. Each aspect of my identity was in some way or another connected to all of the others. My environmentalism, developed in elementary school, spurred my activism and vegetarianism. As I matured, my interest in human rights and growing understanding of my lower-middle class background led me to activist-based education. This directed me toward the socially progressive Unitarian Universalist Church.

The process of claiming and accepting these identities began in the classroom of Megan Pennock. She encouraged her students to create change on the local, national and international levels. Under Megan's leadership, at five years old, I picketed McDonald's and spoke at town council meetings in support of what was to become the first community-wide (and only completely youth organized) ban of polystyrene in the nation. Megan treated all of her students as equals. Regardless of our academic level or socioeconomic standing, we were encouraged to look at the world critically and proactively respond to its problems.

My first year at College of the Atlantic, living on campus - in a structured environment, and under the financial support of my parents - enabled me to maintain my ideals. The curriculum provided me with the means to further my dream of teaching. Five days a week Take-A-Break served me vegetarian meals. Environmentally-minded and activism-oriented individuals surrounded me. My hometown, another Coastal Maine tourist town, is similar to the island community and I found my working class ideals paralleled those of many locals I met. However, integrating this piece of myself into the neo-liberal ideology of the COA student body proved to be much more difficult.

I found myself arguing with others, over coffee in TAB, about the merit and need for hunting, fishing, and logging cultures from the perspective of my own experience. My support of these causes was considered nothing short of treason in the eyes of some of my classmates. Having grown up as one of the most liberal people in my small town, realizing I came across as conservative to my peers was shocking. From my experience in activist communities in other parts of Maine, I had grown accustomed to a human-centered liberalism with a focus on cultural and socioeconomic factors; at COA, I found many (if not most) of my peers were partial to an environmental (and what seemed, to me, unilateral) approach to policy and change. While I deeply wanted to fit into the community here, I struggled to find a place to voice opinions balancing where I was and where I came from. The art of compromise had begun.

When I moved into an apartment a week before the completion of my first year, the true expense of living became very real. Now completely supporting myself, I needed to develop a more cautiously outlined budget than a simple math assignment in elementary school could have prepared me for. The emergencies of life are rarely planned, and I barely evaded the red column of my bank account each week. I quickly realized the need to cut corners and save money. This required me to examine what ideals I could hang onto and which I would, realistically, keep only in my heart.

While my vegetarian identity was part of my environmental ideals, maintaining a completely meatfree diet proved to be unrealistic. On one hand, I was ethically opposed many meat production practices, especially in terms of land usage. On the other, it was expensive to ensure a proper vegetarian diet. I grew up in a hunting family and my uncle owns a small livestock farm. This meant I had access to humanely raised and slaughtered meat. I recognized this was a less than ideal but relatively socially responsible way to increase my dietary options. After phone calls to friends and family, I went from a refrigerator of stark shelves to a freezer filled with venison, moose meat, and homemade sausage. The extra food allowed me to eat vegetarian meals regularly without worrying about maintaining a financially feasible and balanced diet. With the extra money, I worried less about bills and could enjoy life a little more. Previously so sure of my beliefs, I had begun the process of making decisions that pit my ideals against my needs.

To my dismay, more often than not my ideals were losing the battle. However, the act of becoming a human ecologist began the moment I ate a cheeseburger after years of not eating meat. I was learning how to keep my values within a realistic structure. The fine line between what I hoped for in life and what was possible was defining itself at a rapid pace. I could still recycle and eat local vegetables (from friends with gardens). I could wear clothing made in the United States, and use toiletries that were not tested on animals. I could live without television. I could live in a rural area similar to the one I was raised in, and drive a vehicle with good gas mileage. But I couldn't eat completely organic or vegetarian foods. I couldn't avoid using fossil fuels all together. I couldn't always stand up for the causes I supported when I needed to work full-time (or more) in order to keep my head above water. This list could go on forever. Every day consisted of a series of compromises. On the most basic level, I learned to live. On a more philosophical level, I learned how to develop a set of ideals that fit my needs for survival.

Over my years as a student, the number of places I called home multiplied exponentially. I continually faced decisions placing my principles against basic needs. Could I afford the cost of telephone service provided by a socially responsible non-profit? Could I pay extra for green electricity? Was the cost of organic food possible? The answers to these questions to myself varied through the years. My first year off campus, I answered "yes" to all of them. Today, I must decide "no" on the first two and "maybe" on the third. While this causes me to fall short of my ideology, these decisions do not detract from my beliefs. Simply, I have learned how to best balance who I am at heart with who I am today. The person I hope to become cannot be who I already am; otherwise, there would be no room for upward movement. Idealistic living is shaped around the basic understanding that you are working toward something better.

Today, I eat meat daily but also eat vegetarian meals regularly. I rarely buy organic food except when it's on sale. I buy my canned goods at Wal-Mart (for a third of the cost elsewhere) but try to buy produce from sustainable and ecologically conscious sources. I have a television and barely watch it. I don't often go to church, but pray daily. I no longer stand at protests in support of causes; instead, I quietly fight to open minds in the small communities of my life. Ironically, the one thing unchanged is the piece of myidentity I fought to find the agency for at the beginning of my college education: I am a working class Mainer and plan to remain (at least, at heart) as such.

Today, I realize the state of the world impacts all my decisions and opportunities. What I can do and what I wish to do, unfortunately, will constantly be at odds. My actions will not always be in tune with my ideals; this is something I can accept within the socioeconomic/sociopolitical structure of the world.This acceptance is by no means permanent; rather, it is a response to the limitations I experience in thisworld.

Simply put: I am becoming a human ecologist. Mindful of my past and drawing upon current knowledge (a lesson from the Unitarian Universalist Church) I am developing a series of congruent needs and desires. I am not the person who walked onto this campus nearly five years ago; I have matured and centered my energy toward a realistic understanding of the world I inhabit. I may not seem to be the mosthuman ecologically minded person here. However, I am sure of my ideals - not because I live them perfectly, rather because I have been forced to change them along the way. I care about this world and wish to instill positive change in the communities of which I am part. If nothing else, I am a person with the ability to look at the world I live in, and understand, then respond, to its complexities. That, I believe, is a human ecologist.