When I started my internship with the National Center for Disaster Preparedness (NCDP) back in September, I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but I knew what I was hoping for. I wanted to learn how institutions respond to disasters—and where they fall short. I wanted to turn my passion for climate justice into something more tangible than a classroom conversation or a line on my resume. Mostly, I wanted to understand: How do we move people from awareness to action?

Over the past year, I’ve had the chance to explore that question through literature reviews, slide decks, grant research, conversations with professors, hurricane impact tracking, blog writing and numerous long Google Docs filled with questions I hoped to answer. And while I don’t have all the solutions, I feel like I’m starting to understand.

Navigating Complexities (And Commutes)

The first few weeks were a mix of nerves, note-taking and navigating both climate justice theory and Morningside Heights elevators. I remember my first day at the Columbia Climate School office at the Interchurch Center—accidentally stepping into the wrong elevator bank, unsure of whether to ask someone for directions or trust my gut (I chose the latter; surprisingly, it worked).

That same week, I began reviewing climate justice materials and brainstorming ways to contribute to an upcoming visit from South African students interested in climate-related careers.

By October, I was working on a literature review of international climate justice frameworks, synthesizing information for public audiences and reviewing a grant proposal that aimed to empower girls as agents of change in disaster risk reduction. I found myself constantly thinking about access—how we make sure disaster education doesn’t just live in emergency preparedness rooms or after-the-fact news coverage, but in our day-to-day activities.

Storytelling Meets Policy

The Columbia Climate School Showcase was an eye-opener for me. Not only did I get to connect with professionals in the field, but I also wrote a reflection blog for NCDP, in which I explored what the showcase meant for me as a young researcher.

Writing that piece made me realize that the stories we tell matter. They shape how people engage with science, policy and even their own role in climate resilience. I started thinking more deeply about narrative as a form of research in itself.

This idea came to life when I started writing a book chapter with the NCDP research team. With professionals focusing on the technical side, I conducted literature reviews and wrote case studies in a journalistic style, aiming to capture not just the “what” but also the “why.”

I wanted readers to feel the stakes of climate literacy—to see high school students not just as learners, but as leaders.

Understanding Complicated Systems

As the months passed, my work became even more interdisciplinary. I analyzed the aftermath of Hurricane Milton and why its devastation was underreported in the media. I explored global frameworks like the United Nations Office for Disaster Risk Reduction’s risk index and compared hazard monitoring systems in Seoul and NYC. I dove into political messaging around climate denial, the environmental cost of AI and how federal funding shifts are impacting programs tied to equity and environmental justice.

At one point, I found myself listening in on a conversation about the implications of Trump-era executive orders on public funding and how private funding might need to step in. The conversation was technical, but the takeaway was clear: Resilience work is deeply affected by the policies and power structures that surround it. And diversifying funding is a form of survival.

Raising Youth Voices

There were moments this year that surprised me—in the best way. Getting to co-author a chapter; watching my NCDP peers (and myself) present research at Teachers College; being a co-author on the new 2025 project pitches; sitting in on a NASA “Lunch and Learn”; writing a research brief on Duck Hill, Mississippi, focused on local climate resilience; pitching research ideas about greenwashing, trust in emergency management and the fine line between awareness and action.

But perhaps the most meaningful moment came when I stood in front of a group of NYC teachers and shared how disaster education could—and should—exist in high school classrooms. I talked about what I’ve learned outside of school, and what I need from educators to help make sense of the world we’re inheriting. After my presentation, I knew that my words had an impact and that the teachers really listened.

Too often, young people are expected to wait their turn. But this year reminded me: we don’t have to. Not when there’s so much at stake.

Research doesn’t belong to an age group—it belongs to the curious, the driven, the people who care enough to ask the hard questions and value the journey over the destination.

What I Learned

• Resilience is about systems and people. You can’t make one better without understanding the other.
• Research is as much about communication as it is about data.
• Climate literacy can start early—and it should. Youth (and you!) are not too young to do this work.
• Curiosity starts off as a trait, and after it is learned, it becomes a tool.
• Awareness is only the beginning. What matters more is how we move from knowing to doing.

Michelle Rozenfeld is a high school intern at Columbia Climate School’s National Center for Disaster Preparedness and a senior at Bergen County Academies.

Views and opinions expressed here are those of the authors, and do not necessarily reflect the official position of the Columbia Climate School, Earth Institute or Columbia University.