For Justin Snow, a 2004 graduate of Salem Community High School, teaching environmental science isn’t just a job. It’s the natural outgrowth of a lifetime spent outdoors. The son of a second-grade teacher and an Illinois Department of Natural Resources employee, Snow grew up on an Illinois certified tree farm near Iuka, where planting hardwoods and cutting firewood taught him early lessons about stewardship. By high school, he was an FFA state winner in forestry, a national finalist in the field, and an Eagle Scout. “If you’d told me back then that I’d be a teacher, I’d have said you were crazy,” he admitted. But as life unfolded, the pieces clicked into place.

Snow’s path wound through civil engineering, computer science, and finally earth and space science education at SIU Edwardsville. Along the way, he worked summers at Forbes State Park and learned that explaining tough concepts to friends came naturally. Teaching, he realized, was a way to merge his scientific curiosity with the ability to connect and inspire. “I always wanted to leave an impact,” he said. “As an educator, you do leave an impact—you just never know how wide the reach will be.”

This year, he’s leaving that impact in a brand-new way: leading Salem Community High School’s first environmental science class. With 37 students across three sections, the course blends conceptual learning with hands-on projects. Snow chose a National Geographic curriculum that frames each unit around sustainability and human impact. “It’s less about cookie-cutter answers,” he explained. “I want students to think. To see that even small steps are steps in the right direction.”

Already, those steps have included a water filtration project built from simple materials: a cut plastic bottle layered with charcoal, sand, and gravel. Students scooped muddy water from the Salem reservoir, ran it through their homemade filters, and watched as it emerged visibly clearer. “It wasn’t perfect, but it showed them how natural aquifers work,” Snow said. The project connected global issues—clean water access, pollution—to something students could see and hold in their hands.

Snow doesn’t shy away from tough discussions either. From first-world versus third-world perspectives on survival, to the conservation movement that created Yellowstone and the Shawnee National Forest, to today’s debates about drilling in Alaska or the regulation of pesticides, the class wrestles with real-world tradeoffs. “I try to be as unbiased as possible,” he said. “We present the science, we talk about the issues, and students form their own opinions. We’re a scientific community. There are no wrong answers if we’re learning from each other.”

The topics resonate with Salem’s rural students. Many come from farming families or spend time outdoors, making environmental issues both relatable and personal. Snow encourages them to measure their ecological footprint and reflect on how choices—from video games to energy use—draw on resources. “I’m not saying don’t enjoy life,” he tells them. “I just want you to think about where those resources come from.”

For some students, the course may spark a career in environmental science, research biology, or natural resources. For others, it simply deepens awareness of the interconnected world they live in. Either way, Snow believes it offers something important: a chance to practice problem-solving without the intimidation of heavy math, while still grappling with serious scientific challenges.

The class also reflects Snow’s own return to his roots. After years of teaching around the state, he came back to Salem eight years ago, drawn by the chance to raise his children closer to family. His son is now in third grade, his daughter in preschool. “This is home,” he said simply.

For Salem Community High School, the new environmental science course is more than another line in the catalog. It’s a reminder that science isn’t just theory—it’s the world outside the window, the choices we make every day, and the responsibility we all share for the future. And for Justin Snow, it’s proof that sometimes the winding path leads exactly where you’re meant to be.