ABSTRACT
In a small town in the Cloud Forest Mountains of the Central American country of Honduras, I find myself far from the lecture halls, laboratories, and classrooms of the ivory tower of academia. I swing on a white and blue hammock, as the theories and best practices I have been taught swirl around in my head. With all the education of an Ivy League institution and the best intentions in my heart, I traveled to this community to work on sustainable agricultural initiatives with the descendents of the first agriculturalists of the Americas. I think of my own community back home on the northwest side of Chicago and wonder: Who is working with them to create a more sustainable community? My thoughts are interrupted by the murmur of children coming through the open shutters of my small, whitewashed adobe house.
