The solar-powered kayak, complete with motor and prop, lying near the front entrance of the School of Environmental Studies serves as an early warning: this is not your average high school.

Situated on a 12-acre site at the Minnesota Zoo in Apple Valley, SES offers a full-day curriculum comparable to that of nearby high schools, albeit with a twist. The zoo and surrounding 3000-acre regional park serve as students' frequent classroom and living laboratory.

Faced with overcrowded schools, Independent School District 196 in suburban Minneapolis developed plans for five small, thematic studies "optional" high schools including business- and humanities-focused models. Neither alternative nor magnet school, the optional school is just that—an option for students looking for a focused curriculum or a small high school setting, or both. When the Minnesota Zoo emerged as a perfect partner—and offered a 30-year lease for a dollar a year—SES, dubbed the "Zoo School," was, in 1995, the first (and so far only) such high school in the district.

Small is Beautiful

At SES, 400 juniors and seniors are immersed in a curriculum dedicated, as the school's mission statement puts it, to developing "a community of leaders learning to enhance the relationships between people and their environments." Given a level of independence impossible at most schools, students have shown they can thrive academically: at 23.5 their 2004 SAT scores beat the state average of 22.2 (Minnesota tied with Wisconsin for highest SAT scores), and are well above the national average of 20.9.

While the district doesn't track college enrollment, Principal Dan Bodette suspects SES students enroll at the same or higher rates as those from nearby schools. Many go on to careers related to environmental science. "They are making a difference," says Bodette, who says that many SES alumni have chosen careers such as environmental engineering, environmental law and teaching, while others are active as mayors, city council members and at non-profit environmental organizations.

Even so, "the number one draw" is not the environmental focus, says Bodette. Only half of incoming students express an interest in the environment when they apply. Instead, it's the small size of the school that attracts many. Students and teachers are grouped into academic houses of 100 students and three or four teachers, and within them, 10-student pods which encourage collaboration and strong personal relationships.

We Classify Vegetables, Not People

Houses spend each morning together working on interdisciplinary studies. Afternoons are reserved for electives which students can take onsite or at their "home" high schools, where they remain enrolled and can also participate in extracurricular activities. For students feeling lost in the super-sized high schools that have become the norm, SES offers an intimate and accepting alternative. "We classify vegetables, not people." says student Andrea Brownlow.

The student body is roughly representative of the economic and academic mix as other district high schools (per student funding of $6000 per year is equal as well). Nearly all of the 300 students who apply to SES each year are accepted, exceeding the capacity of 200 each of juniors and seniors. "We know from past years that some students will change their minds about attending SES," says Bodette, explaining that some will return to their "home" schools when they find that SES is more challenging than they expected.

Incoming students are quickly steeped in environmental realities—and muck. An early assignment has them slogging through nearby ponds to collect data on water properties and wetlands ecosystems. It is like much of what occurs here: about as experiential as education can get.

One interdisciplinary "investigation" focuses on the question: What are the relationships between living organisms and terrestrial environments? In the 4-week section juniors learn geology through mapping exercises, botany in forest and meadow studies, biology during studies of dried-up ponds and on field trips to observe zoo animals, ecology from texts by Thoreau and the Sierra Club, art through sketching trees, social studies from studying human perceptions of forests over the years, and writing skills through expository journaling.

Far Afield

Field studies, which are typically funded by students' families, are offered at the end of each trimester, extending the learning beyond Minnesota to everywhere from Belize to Scotland. (Grants are available through a school foundation; and students who don't do field studies can participate in intensive theme courses at SES). Students recently camped on a deserted island off of Curacao in the Caribbean where diving excursions provided lessons on coral reefs and endangered turtles.

For all the adventure at SES, it isn't easy. Though students don't take tests (and standardized tests are completed in tenth grade), "this is not a school for slouches," says instructor Anita Ronning. "We do five essays a week," boasts a student in Ronning's art class. "(Graduates) laugh at college after going to SES."

Grant Spickelmier, education liaison at the Minnesota Zoo, puts students to work doing jobs too time-consuming or tedious for zoologists—like three-week animal behavioral studies, which, says Spickelmier, sound exciting until students learn that animal behavior involves a lot of sleeping. "It's kind of boring. It's not the National Geographic stuff that kids see on TV."

The student work helps justify the zoo's relationship with SES. The zoo is reimbursed for providing zoologists and naturalists to instruct SES classes. The $6000 income "doesn't even touch the cost" of the scientists' work, which includes team-teaching with SES instructors on four intensive theme courses and 30 to 40 demonstrations at the zoo per year. But Spickelmier points out that the zoo's mission is to educate. Working yearlong with SES students "You can see growth and learning happening," in ways you can't with most zoo patrons.

Student Work, Real-World Results

While they learn, students become stewards of the environment. "I'd feel guilty not giving back," says senior Ben Geary. In Curacao, 30 students conducted fish population surveys and catalogued beach trash for international databases on marine ecosystems. And the junior-year pond studies are shared with local cities.

The student work "is primary research," says Bodette, used by the cities to make decisions on the health of wetlands and parks. For instance, students studying a local park detailed their findings on buckthorn growth to local officials, who used the data to develop an eradication program for the invasive plant, which crowds out native species.

By the end of junior year students are well-versed in the intricacies of physical habitats from regional wetlands to tropical rainforests and the interaction between natural environments and people. Seniors work on developing a personal environmental ethic, the culmination of which is an independent study project that reflects their personal ideals. One senior parlayed his concern about pollution and his interest in cars into a project on hybrid vehicles. The awareness campaign he developed included distributing literature to local businesses. Twice-yearly Socratic Seminars allow students to voice their evolving perspectives.

Not surprisingly, instructors tend to have their own environmental passions. Well before he came to SES as one of the founding teachers, biology teacher Tom Goodwin was active in local wetlands conservation. Though students will sometimes identify with an instructor's commitment to an environmental issue, Goodwin says the instructors' job is to give students a balanced, not biased, education. Meanwhile teachers are learning too. "As a teacher (here) you're a better environmentalist," says Goodwin.

Creating A Green School

Students and school officials miss few opportunities to practice their environmentalism. Mylar tape and predator silhouettes on school windows prevent bird collisions, the lunch room and library are separated by a "living wall" of plants. The carpet is recyclable, and the ceiling panels are made from renewable resources.

Interior design reflects the school's unique approach. Each house occupies a large open space, lined with 10-desk cubicles for each pod. Desks are decorated with teen paraphernalia, much of it with an environmental bent. A quote tacked to one partition boasts: "My moss is greener than your moss." A central gathering area called the "centrum" serves as the main indoor instructional area.

Early one morning while the Blue House is congregating in its centrum, junior Courtney Bombardo approaches the front carrying a small kennel. "It's ferret surgery day," announces Bombardo, who has raised donations and coordinated medical care to treat a tumor on the ferret's tail for an Inquiry and Discovery Project. Students call out well-wishes, "Good luck, ferret." While other students' IDPs have dealt with such high-minded topics as ozone levels and reforestation, Bombardo went with her heart. "I just got hooked on that ferret."

It sounds a little like how Jane Goodall, who has visited SES, first felt about chimpanzees. The famed primatologist still has her first chimp—a stuffed one given to her as a child. "When kids are passionate, they can take things further," says English teacher Kim Colburn-Lindell. Colburn-Lindell sees such passion all the time, even when she's not at school. "I was sitting on a porch in St. Paul and an alumni came up with information on elm disease," says Colburn-Lindell. "It was just terrific."

Andrea Grazzini Walstrom is a writer from Burnsville, Minnesota