As the shadow passed over Lake Champlain, daytime paused as the world turned to darkness. From the shoreline, thousands of people began cheering – howling at the moon on a Monday afternoon.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It totally exceeded expectations the way everything in the world totally went dark and how the temperature dropped. My son saw bats come out,” says Boston-area dad Bob Hatcher, who had been planning his trip for nine months with his wife and two kids. ”I’ve been looking forward to this for years, and it was everything I could’ve hoped for.”

The last time the Green Mountain State was in the path of totality of a solar eclipse was in 1932. The same year, Amelia Earhart became the first woman to fly solo over the Atlantic Ocean.

Eclipses have long inspired myths. This year, the story in the sky was being written on the ground. For over a year, the city of Burlington had meticulously planned for the moment the moon’s shadow passed overhead. It was nothing short of a citywide mobilization to prepare. The state of Vermont estimated some 200,000 people – one-third the size of the state – were coming by cars, planes, trains, and RVs to be in the path of totality. In a society that spends a lot of time staring down at smartphones, the total eclipse made the country, as one, look up in wonder.

Riley Robinson/Staff

Spectators take in totality over Lake Champlain on April 8, 2024, in Burlington, Vermont. As the moon crossed in front of the sun, the midday light turned to dusk and the crowd erupted in whoops and cheers.

“Whatever happens in the sky on April 8, the story that we’ve been writing together on purpose to prepare for this moment in history – that story happened on the ground,” said Deb Ross, co-chair of Solar Eclipse Across America. Ms. Ross had been helping her town in Rochester, New York, and hosting workshops with other cities across America to prepare for the eclipse.

“The world was different in a way it never is for just a couple minutes,” says Ms. Ross of her experiences with eclipses.

Monday’s was the longest continuous eclipse across the continental United States, stretching from southwest Texas to northern New England, crossing through 13 states. Over 32 million people live on that path. Compare that with the 12 million who lived in the path of totality during the last total solar eclipse in the U.S. on Aug. 21, 2017.

Riley Robinson/Staff

People dance to drum music on Church Street April 7, 2024, in Burlington, Vermont, as part of a city-wide celebration of Monday’s solar eclipse.

Cities big and small spent months planning to host millions of visitors. They came from around the world to witness this special celestial event that happens once – or if you’re fortunate, two or three times – in a lifetime. People interviewed made reservations a year in advance, and hotels in this small city were seeing rates above $1,000 a night.

The eclipse has given people a reason to go outside and share a moment together – and they took it, by the thousands. In a seemingly fractured society, some saw hope in the ability to retain a sense of communal wonder.

“It was such a feeling of excitement. It felt joyful and we’re so lucky to be here,” says Mary Payne, who traveled with her husband and two sons in an RV to Shelburne. “It was more of a feeling of community. We’re all experiencing the same thing.”

Burlington City Arts festival and event director Zach Williamson typically plans summer festivals with 40,000 visitors in mind. The record is being eclipsed by, well, the eclipse. The citywide celebration — dubbed Obscura BTV — was a full weekend of infotainment of astronomical proportions and merchandising galore. Before Monday, Burlington officials estimated that up to 70,000 visitors were planning to attend, with most arriving on eclipse day itself.

Riley Robinson/Staff

From right, Brenna Harris, Jordyn Fofi, and Spencer Bruce take in the solar eclipse through protective glasses April 8, 2024, in Burlington, Vermont. Thousands of people descended on the banks of Lake Champlain to take in the total eclipse.

Mr. Williamson and Burlington businesses have been preparing for a nomadic community of umbraphiles. The eclipse-chasers arrived in force. They were joined by parents who pulled students from schools all over New England to witness a once-in-a-childhood event, and friends flying in for reunions on the shores of Lake Champlain. Burlington schools were closed for the day. The University of Vermont also canceled classes.

On Monday, thousands of enthusiasts with lawn chairs and filtered cameras gathered at the seven viewing sites in local parks, which hosted live music performances and food trucks, complete with Obscura BTV booths, magnets, T-shirts, and sunglasses. 

Astronomers from the University of Vermont live-streamed the eclipse with narration, and the ECHO, Leahy Center for Lake Champlain hosted a weekend-long family festival.

Riley Robinson/Staff

Charlotte, right, who traveled with her family to Shelburne from Hanover, Massachusetts, to watch the total eclipse, shows off a binder she made about the April 8 event – required by her teacher, she said, for missing school.

At Oakledge Park, the city offered accessible solar eclipse displays in Braille and LightSound, a Harvard-developed tool that converts light energy into sound. As a shadow slowly passes over the sensor, it sounds like a descending staircase of musical notes.

Bob Hatfield, a retired air traffic controller from Dallas, says his eyes have always been on the sky. Even though Texas was in the path of totality, Mr. Hatfield is in Vermont for the clear skies and better weather. This is his third total solar eclipse, he says, and it was still just as indescribable as his first.

“Each one is a little different but it’s just so impressive and fantastic,” says Mr. Hatfield, who brought two telescopes and a wide-lens camera for company. “It’s emotional.”

Down the road from Burlington’s main street bustle but still within totality, out-of-state travelers pitched their base camps at the Shelburne Campground.

Retirees Bobby and Wynne Parker drove nearly 14 hours from their home in Blacksburg, Virginia, to Burlington. In 2017, Mr. Parker drove to Greenville, South Carolina, and watched that eclipse from a minor league baseball stadium. Experiencing totality from the bleachers, he says, brought him to tears.

Riley Robinson/Staff

Bobby Parker, left, and Wynne Parker, from Blacksburg, Virginia, drove to Shelburne, Vermont, to experience the April 8 solar eclipse.

“It’s like the sun went down in every direction, and there was a glow on the horizon for 360 degrees. It was unlike anything you’ve ever seen,” says Mr. Parker.

“It was beautiful and unusual and overpowering and impressive in every way that you can imagine. I was just reminded of our place in the universe, if you will. I mean, just to think that there are things that beautiful and that powerful that I’ll never get to understand, but I get to experience. How beautiful is that?” he says.

“If you ever get a chance to a see a total eclipse, take it, take it,” he says. “You won’t be sorry because there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, like it I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Mark it on your calendars: Next up, August 2044.

Ann Scott Tyson/The Christian Science Monitor

U.S. Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen responds to questions at the U.S. ambassador's residence in Beijing April 8, following days of talks with China's leadership on growing trade imbalances.

U.S. Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen warned on Monday that the Biden administration “will not accept” a flood of “artificially cheap” Chinese products to the United States.

Over four days of talks with China’s economic leadership, Dr. Yellen lobbied forcefully against China’s surging exports of surplus from key, long-subsidized industries such as solar power and electric vehicles – exports that put American jobs and companies at risk. She stressed that U.S. concerns were shared by advanced and emerging economies around the world.

“China is now simply too large for the rest of the world to absorb this enormous capacity,” she told reporters at a Beijing press conference. “Actions taken by the PRC [People’s Republic of China] today can shift world prices. And when the global market is flooded by artificially cheap Chinese products, the viability of American and other foreign firms is put into question.”

For its part, Beijing has urged Washington not to politicize trade or take protectionist measures. “It is hoped that the United States will abide by the basic norms of market economy,” Premier Li Qiang told Dr. Yellen on Sunday, according to the official Xinhua News Agency.

Over the past year, Washington and Beijing have made important headway in stabilizing relations, which hit rock bottom in 2022 amid disputes in areas such as Taiwan, technology, human rights, and foreign policy. The U.S. and Chinese economies are deeply intertwined, with some $575 billion in bilateral trade in 2023. Both governments oppose decoupling. “A wholesale separation would be disastrous,” said Dr. Yellen.

Yet managing looming economic and trade conflicts – the major focus of the treasury secretary’s visit – will likely prove essential to sustaining the current momentum in U.S.-China ties and preventing them from derailing.

Dr. Yellen said her talks with Chinese officials made “significant progress” toward this goal, including agreements to start detailed talks on economic growth strategies and policy, financial crisis management, and illicit finance. The U.S. will press for changes in Chinese economic policy during these future meetings, she said.

American companies under pressure

At the core of the current trade tensions are Washington’s concerns about a new global wave of Chinese low-cost exports – this time in critical high-tech industries such as electric vehicles, solar energy equipment, and batteries – that could hollow out competitors. A decade ago, the Chinese government’s support for its domestic steel production led to low-cost exports that flooded the global market, devastating many foreign steel firms.

“I’ve made clear that President Biden and I will not accept that reality again,” Dr. Yellen said of her meetings with Chinese leaders. 

Ann Scott Tyson/The Christian Science Monitor

Factory workers operate machinery for Sungrow Power, a large Chinese producer of photovoltaic inverters and other key solar, wind, and other green energy equipment, in Hefei, Anhui province, March 27, 2024.

Today, after years of government subsidies and overinvestment, China’s solar power industry supply far exceeds domestic demand. The price of China’s solar panels plummeted, and now cost just a fraction as much as those produced in the U.S. 

At her press conference on Monday, Dr. Yellen described visiting an Atlanta solar power company that in 2017 had been forced into bankruptcy by low-cost Chinese imports. China’s growing output of solar panels led their price to drop 80% between 2008 and 2013, badly undercutting U.S. manufacturers. The U.S. needs to bolster its supply chains and production of critical clean energy products, she said, yet ongoing Chinese overcapacity threatens this potential.

Chinese economists acknowledge the surplus production problem and the resulting trade tensions. As China focuses on higher-value industries, “the new wave of overcapacity” generally has “higher value per unit” compared to past exports, said Lu Feng, emeritus professor of economics at Peking University’s National School of Development, in a recent speech. “Consequently, overcapacity in these areas can significantly influence international economic and trade relations.”

The future of China’s economy

China can reduce industrial overcapacity and avoid trade frictions by boosting its weak domestic demand, many Chinese and foreign experts agree. Dr. Yellen noted that China’s saving rate – the amount of disposable income that people put into savings – is among the highest in the world at close to 45%. If a larger share of China’s gross domestic product went to bolster household income, such as through funding for education, consumer spending would rise as a share of GDP, increasing domestic demand.

“Many [Chinese] officials ... think that that needs to be part of the solution,” Dr. Yellen said on Monday.

Despite such recommendations, China’s policymakers have so far failed to shift away from export-driven growth, particularly as its economy slows. Chinese leader Xi Jinping has continued to place heavy emphasis on top-down programs to promote China’s dominance of key high-technology industries, as well as backing for large state-owned enterprises. 

Chinese officials and state-run media outlets have dismissed overcapacity concerns by the U.S. and other Western countries as veiled protectionism. 

Beijing has “serious concerns” over U.S. tariffs, sanctions, and investment restrictions on China, Vice Finance Minister Liao Min told reporters on Monday. “The so-called ‘overcapacity’ is a manifestation of the functioning of the market,” and can be solved by market forces, he said.

“As China shifts from traditional manufacturing ... and establishes itself in such crucial fields as artificial intelligence, telecommunications and renewable energy, the West sees a threat ... to their long-held dominance,” stated a Xinhua commentary last week.

“This new variant of ‘China threat’ theory,” it continued, “is just a pretext for certain Western countries to poison the environment for China’s domestic development.”

Kin Cheung/AP/File

As cryptocurency goes mainstream, the one known as bitcoin raises questions of trust in a non-government-backed currency. Here an advertisement for bitcoin is displayed on a street in Hong Kong, Feb. 17, 2022.

It’s hotter than the hottest Big Tech companies. It’s more volatile than the stock market. 

The world’s best-known digital currency – bitcoin – could either permanently eclipse all of today’s government-issued money or sink into oblivion.

Amid great debate over bitcoin’s endgame, a middle ground is emerging. As bitcoin takes its first steps into Wall Street’s mainstream and undergoes an important valuation step known as a “halving,” the cryptocurrency is potentially becoming an important hedge against financial disaster. Paradoxically, the more it goes mainstream, the more risk it poses for the larger financial system if things go really wrong.

The key to its sustainability is whether enough governments, companies, and individuals will put their long-term trust in a string of computer code.

“Bitcoin is money insurance ... backup money that people, companies, [and] governments will always want to keep a little bit of,” says Omid Malekan, a Columbia Business School professor and author of “Re-Architecting Trust,” a book on cryptocurrencies. How much people value that insurance depends on how chaotic they think things will become.

Trusting in the value of computer code isn’t as crazy as it sounds. Gold, paper money, and Picasso paintings all hold value because people decided they’re worth something. 

But bitcoin differs from traditional stores of value such as gold or silver because it also operates as a decentralized ledger, whereby each transaction is independently verifiable by all users in the network. It can bypass trusted intermediaries, like banks.

Another selling point: Its total supply will be limited to 21 million coins. That means there’s little danger that a government will step in, create more bitcoin, and stoke inflation. That total won’t be reached for another century, around 2141. Bitcoin are created through a process known as mining, whereby supercomputers solve extremely complicated computational problems to verify other transactions on the bitcoin chain. That total supply of 21 million coins may seem like a lot, but big computer operations that “mine” bitcoin have already created more than 19.6 million digital coins.

Bitcoin’s endgame should become apparent long before 2100. This is where the trust in the digital currency begins to get tricky.

The reason it will take so long to mine the remaining bitcoin is the halving, which happens about every four years. In a few days, around April 17, the bitcoin miners who validate each new block of transactions will receive 3.125 bitcoin per block, down from the 6.25 bitcoin they currently receive. That’s the opposite of inflationary. On its surface, it’s deflationary, meaning the miners will receive less for the same amount of work. 

As long as the price of bitcoin doubles, halving is not a problem. The increase in value will continue to earn them a profit. Computer power and energy are costly to validate the chain of transaction blocks (known as the blockchain).

But at some point, miners will have to rely on transaction fees rather than new bitcoin for most of their revenues. Lyn Alden, an independent investment strategist who has studied the issue, estimates it will take several more halvings before that happens.

The timing is hard to pin down, she explains in an email, so that those revenues could be highly variable. The bitcoin system can process 120 million to 150 million transactions a year. If the average transaction is $10, miners could make up to $1.5 billion a year, she points out. If, in the end, fees average 1% of the transaction amount and transactions average $100,000, miners’ total annual revenues would potentially rise as high as $150 billion.

All this will depend on how much bitcoin is worth and how much it changes hands in a year. 

The history is encouraging to bitcoin enthusiasts. At its first halving in 2012, three years after its inception, bitcoin was worth $12.35. At its second halving in 2016, it was $650; at its third, $8,821. Approaching its fourth halving, it was trading on Monday afternoon at $71,800, not far from its all-time high.

But past performance is no guarantee of future gains. And these gains mask bitcoin’s extreme volatility. A year after reaching its last peak, it lost three-quarters of its value in what became known as the crypto winter. Few analysts expect this volatility to abate going forward.

Should the rewards of mining fall below its costs for a significant period, miners will no longer mine, the blockchain won’t be validated, and the system’s vulnerability to manipulation will rise. Such downturns have triggered big business scandals in the past, from the bankruptcy of bitcoin exchange Mt. Gox in 2014 to the fraudulent FTX cryptocurrency exchange, which has led to several business and bank failures. 

Such cryptocurrency earthquakes have had limited impact on the traditional finance world so far. “The crypto-asset world has had few links with and provided few services to the real economy, none of them vital,” the European Systemic Risk Board reported last year.

But as those links grow, so do the dangers for the financial system, warns Hilary Allen, a law professor at American University. She says that bitcoin is backed by nothing but faith, like a Ponzi scheme. “All you really own is a computer file, which may or may not have value depending on whether someone wants it from you,’’ she says. “[But] the longer it sticks around, the more intertwined it is going to become with our more traditional financial system.”

In January, Wall Street firms began offering retail investors access to bitcoin via exchange-traded funds. They’ve already attracted nearly $30 billion in investments despite warnings from high-profile skeptics that they are inherently risky. Now, major Chinese asset managers are pushing to open their own bitcoin ETFs.

There are other technical challenges to bitcoin, such as the hard limit on the number of transactions, says Robert Murphy, chief economist for Infineo, a tech company aiming to transform life insurance through blockchain and artificial intelligence. He says gold, which is trading at record highs, offers the more likely path to a stable currency not issued by a government.

So far, the evidence suggests that most investors are not buying into either extreme of bitcoin believers or detractors. A recent study of cryptocurrency investors for the National Bureau of Economic Research found that they come from all income levels and, for the most part, resemble traditional investors.

They realize bitcoin is risky, but so are stocks and even the U.S. dollar when inflation is high, says Scott Baker, a finance professor at Northwestern University and co-author of the study. “So this is a hedge against some of those risks.”

At a late August meeting in a windowless room at Minneapolis College, a handful of students barely a week into classes sat back on couches, took a breath, and marveled that they were there at all.

“Gifting myself with an education is a part of my recovery,” said Nomi Badboy, age 43, one of three students attending this week’s meeting of the school’s collegiate recovery program. But she admitted to feeling overwhelmed: Her four kids were trying her nerves, her ailing father was requiring more of her time, and a bad-news ex had left her with a destructive puppy and a lingering disbelief that she can pull it all off. 

Ray Lombardi, 50, listened thoughtfully. “What I’m hearing is that we have three things in common: It’s hard to be a parent. It’s hard to stay sober. And it’s hard to go back to school as an adult,” he said, adding, “It would be a great tragedy to get sober, get my life in order, and then come here and have college be the cause of going back into using.” 

Collegiate recovery programs began appearing at four-year institutions in the late 1970s, offering services like sober-living dorms, life skills classes, and recovery coaches. Today, more than 170 programs exist across the United States and Canada. But it’s only in the last dozen or so years that programs began popping up at community colleges; Minneapolis College’s program, opened in 2017, was the first in Minnesota and the fifth in the nation.

Today, there are at least 23 recovery programs at community colleges. Their expansion reflects a growing awareness that many survivors of opioid addiction and those who struggled with substance use during the pandemic are now enrolling in pursuit of a fresh start. But despite the need, the programs face significant obstacles, and many are scrambling for dollars and staffing to stay afloat.

Substance use disorder affects about 18% of American adults, according to national statistics. Among 18- to 25-year-olds, the share is nearly 28%. Meanwhile, of the 29 million adults nationwide who said they’ve ever had a problem with substance use, about 72% considered themselves to be in recovery or recovered.

Unlike treatment, a necessary but often short-term process, recovery is the long-term work of rebuilding a healthier and typically sober life. Education is an example of what’s called “recovery capital,” something earned that makes long-term recovery more likely.

Community colleges are a natural first step for people in recovery, says Jessica Miller, who oversees four collegiate recovery programs, including two at community colleges, for the Ten16 Recovery Network, a substance use disorder treatment provider in Central Michigan. At two-year institutions, admission is accessible, tuition is affordable, and flexible coursework fits into schedules complicated not only by jobs and families, but counseling, support groups, and doctor visits.

“I don’t know why we weren’t trying to do this years ago,” she says.

A broader approach to recruitment

In November, the Association of Recovery in Higher Education, which serves as a hub for the programs, launched a working group tasked in part with editing the guidelines for starting recovery programs to make them more applicable to community colleges. A new networking group for community college program coordinators held its first call in February. 

Advocates say the growing number of recovery programs makes sense not just for individuals but for community colleges looking to recoup lost students. Since 2010, enrollment at two-year institutions has declined by nearly 40%, as more people have opted to remain in the workforce or head directly to four-year colleges, among other factors.

Leah Fabel for The Hechinger Report

Minneapolis College's collegiate recovery program opened in 2017, the first in the state to be housed at a two-year school.

The downturn has pushed community colleges to broaden their approach to recruitment, resulting in an increase in the number of students requiring more support and services, says Taylor Odle, an assistant professor of education policy studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. The schools are pursuing their goals of serving more students, but the additional supports bring higher costs. “The price tag is not the same,” he says.

Schools investing in recovery programs do so without an abundance of research connecting the programs to improved student outcomes. But the data that exists is encouraging, says Noel Vest, an assistant professor of community health sciences at Boston University. A 2014 paper reviewing the impact of recovery programs, mostly at four-year colleges, found lower incidences of relapse for involved students and slightly higher GPAs and graduation rates compared to their peers overall.

Dr. Vest plans to complete a study this summer of five recovery programs, including Minneapolis College’s. He expects the findings to illuminate best practices for the programs and provide an evidence-based foundation for starting more of them. “Right now,” he says, “the data that says we must be doing this just isn’t out there.” 

In the interim, advocates for the programs are using creative approaches to keep them alive and growing. At Tompkins Cortland Community College near Ithaca, New York, program leaders have forged connections with student groups on campus whose struggles with substance use might fly under the radar, such as student athletes. 

In Central Michigan, the Ten16 Recovery Network is helping its clients enroll in colleges with recovery supports by providing pre-enrollment services at its out-patient treatment facilities. A client might meet with the collegiate recovery program coordinator, for example, to receive counseling about which career paths might be a good fit, and which ones might present obstacles due to the client’s history with addiction and the legal system. 

At Skagit Valley College, a two-year institution north of Seattle, Aaron Kirk runs the recovery program for formerly incarcerated students jointly with the school’s Breaking Free Club. (About 60% of people who are incarcerated struggle with substance use disorder, according to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration.) In his role, Mr. Kirk has built a relationship with the local drug court, which offers alternative sentences to eligible individuals who commit to treatment for substance use. Typically, the sentences include a work or education component, making Skagit Valley a natural fit.

“Hope for the future”

Genevieve Ward, 42, enrolled at Skagit Valley in the summer of 2021 after spending time in prison on a drug conviction. While taking coursework in human services, she used money earmarked for students in the recovery program to earn certification as a peer recovery coach. She uses the skills daily as a leader in the recovery housing where she lives near campus.

Leah Fabel for The Hechinger Report

The collegiate recovery program at Minneapolis College has faced funding and staffing challenges.

“In school, the number one struggle is that most of us don’t feel like we’re smart enough. That’s what I see the most, and what I feel the most,” she says. She credits the Breaking Free Club with creating the community she and her peers need to beat back their insecurities and succeed in the classroom.

In the years leading up to her incarceration, Ms. Ward says she was living each day simply to survive. “But this college, this club, has given me hope for the future — I know that there is one.” After graduating this spring, she plans to transfer to nearby Western Washington University, where talks are underway to expand recovery supports thanks in part to advocacy from students in the Breaking Free Club. Ultimately, she hopes to land in a career that helps people with struggles like the ones she’s faced.

For many students like Ms. Ward, community colleges’ flexible academic offerings make college possible. But the same flexibility creates obstacles to the success of on-campus groups. Options like part-time course loads, online classes, and short certificate programs can stymie consistent attendance and participation. Even for full-time students, the two-year window creates frequent turnover. “A lot of our work is student-led,” says Mr. Kirk at Skagit Valley. “It’s challenging to have these awesome leaders who graduate so quickly.” 

It’s also hard to engage students in recovery programs when they don’t have the time to linger on campus. “These students are flying home from work, making dinner, getting their kids settled, then racing to get over here on time for class,” says Cheryl Kramer, recovery program advisor at Cape Cod Community College, in Massachusetts. 

“The need is everywhere”

But the toughest scrambles are often for staff and funding. Jonathan Lofgren, a professor of addiction counseling at Minneapolis College, launched the college’s program in 2017 after a sabbatical year studying recovery on college campuses. School leaders provided a dedicated space for the program and allowed Dr. Lofgren a half day per week to manage it, but they stopped short of hiring a dedicated coordinator. 

During the pandemic, the program moved online and participation dropped. Welcome news arrived in 2021, though, when the school won a state grant in collaboration with a nearby four-year university, providing funding for two paid interns, a peer recovery coach, and a coordinator, Lisa Schmid.

But amid a nationwide shortage of staff in the treatment and recovery field, the peer coach and one intern position remain vacant. In November, Ms. Schmid took extended personal leave, which left her role unfilled as well. While she was out, two student workers ensured the recovery program room stayed open, emails went out, and weekly meetings happened. But broader goals, like increasing awareness of recovery support services on campus, lost steam.

When Ms. Schmid returned from leave in February, she prioritized spreading word of the program to likely partners, such as the college’s veteran services program and its admissions team. In March, Minneapolis College leaders reached an agreement with the campus health clinic to continue funding her position once the state grant runs out. 

“The need is everywhere,” Ms. Schmid says. Recovery “has always been such a hush-hush thing. How do we normalize it?”

Leah Fabel for The Hechinger Report

The recovery room at Minneapolis College, staffed by student workers like Connie Hsu, is open daily for drop-in support or as a place to relax and work.

Advocates hope that a percentage of the hundreds of millions of dollars in state opioid settlement funding can be earmarked for collegiate recovery, and that Congress might one day approve additional funding. President Biden’s stalled 2024 budget includes $10.8 billion for the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, of which 10% would be set aside for recovery support services. 

In a handful of states, legislation has made for a rosier funding picture. Washington lawmakers passed a bill in 2019 that led to the creation of a state grant fund to support recovery. From that work grew the Washington State Collegiate Recovery Support Initiative, which has provided funding for eight colleges, including four community colleges, to open recovery programs or provide recovery services in pre-existing programs, like Skagit Valley’s Breaking Free Club.

Patricia Maarhuis of Washington State University says that, ultimately, collegiate recovery supports are about propelling academic success. “People might say this is just another student group, but no. This is not the frosting; this is the cake. If you want your students to stay in school and do well, you need recovery supports.” 

Back in Minneapolis, Ms. Badboy has found a new home for the destructive puppy and her kids are settled in good schools and daycares. She’s thriving in her classes and expects to graduate in 2025. The balancing act of family, school and recovery, for now, is stable.

Recovery is painstakingly hard, she says. But her journey – more than 12 years sober after nine bouts of treatment – has created a firm structure in her life that supports college success as much as it supports her well-being. Her peers in the program understand that in a way few others can, she says, and she feels accountable to them. 

“It’s made it so that I really want to do this – almost that I must do this, I have to do this,” she says. “Because other people like me, who’ve felt the same way about themselves, need to see that this is possible.”

This story about collegiate recovery programs was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. The piece is also appearing in the MinnPost, in Minneapolis. 

Before South Carolina women’s coach Dawn Staley won her third national title on Sunday afternoon, and before Iowa’s Caitlin Clark took women’s college basketball by storm, there was a cultural shift in how the world viewed female athletes. The best way to describe that change in perception could be found in a four-word phrase on various types of apparel: “Everyone watches women’s sports.”

I attended one of South Carolina’s 38 wins that constituted its undefeated campaign – the 10th in the sport’s history. It was perhaps the most stressful of the lot and came down to the final shot – a stunning three-pointer by Kamilla Cardoso at the buzzer. The exultation reminded me of some of my favorite moments in women’s sports.

Last year’s Final Four matchups between Iowa and South Carolina, and between Louisiana State University and Virginia Tech were a commercial revelation that put the sport on the map. This year’s Final Four matchups were the sequel that delivered beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, including a women’s viewership record of 18.7 million for the championship game. This came days after Iowa’s matchup with traditional power University of Connecticut had set its own record (most-watched ESPN basketball game of any kind) with 14.2 million viewers.

The Iowa-South Carolina matchup wasn’t just a rematch but also an opportunity for redemption. At the center of the game were the sports’ two biggest figures – Ms. Staley and Ms. Clark. It seems inadequate now to ask who’s the epicenter, the “GOAT” or greatest of all time. Ms. Staley won and did the familiar – uplift the game and its participants.

“I want to personally thank Caitlin Clark for lifting up our sport. She carried a heavy load for our sport, and it just is not going to stop here on the collegiate tour, but when she is the No. 1 pick in the WNBA Draft, she’s going to lift that league up as well,” Ms. Staley said. “So Caitlin Clark, if you’re out there, you are one of the GOATs of our game. We appreciate you.”

Kirby Lee-USA TODAY Sports NPSTrans toppic/AP

Iowa Hawkeyes guard Caitlin Clark shoots against South Carolina Gamecocks guard Raven Johnson (25) during the championship game in Cleveland, April 7, 2024.

The Lady Gamecocks’ mode of operation? Leading with love. It’s why their journey back to the Final Four was a redemption tour and not a revenge-filled run after last year’s loss to Iowa. Sophomore guard Raven Johnson, who was famously waved off by Ms. Clark the year before, was one of Sunday’s heroes for her defense on the Iowa star. First-year players such as MiLaysia Fulwiley and Tessa Johnson sparked the team in the final game, clearly motivated to win it for the “freshies” – the acclaimed 2019 freshman class led by former Lady Gamecock Aliyah Boston that took the program to untold heights before graduating last year.

Where does the game go from here? The seasonlong celebration around Ms. Clark is a guide. When Ms. Clark broke the Division I scoring record in Iowa’s season finale against Ohio State, casual observers learned about the exploits of players such as Lynette Woodard and Pearl Moore. Ms. Woodard, who formerly held the all-time Division I women’s scoring record, was a gold medal-winning Olympian and the first female Harlem Globetrotter. Ms. Moore, a native South Carolinian, scored more than 4,000 points during a career at a smaller college, before women entered the NCAA. One might wonder what would have been had she been born during Ms. Staley’s era of recruiting.

Ms. Clark’s childhood idol? Maya Moore, the former University of Connecticut and Minnesota Lynx great whose passion for social activism was on par with her basketball talents. During her playing career, she brought attention to police brutality and wrongfully detained people, years before George Floyd’s murder and Black Lives Matter galvanized the United States.

Mary Altaffer/AP

Louisiana State University forward Angel Reese drives around Iowa forward Addison O'Grady April 1, 2024, in Albany, New York.

Women’s sports has been a case study in rewriting narratives about viability and visibility. In August 2023, just over 92,000 people attended a volleyball game at the University of Nebraska, a record-breaking feat in female sport attendance. The NCAA published a commentary about the “Caitlin Clark effect” in late February, but it’s important to remember the presence of another polarizing athlete, LSU’s Angel Reese, who bested Ms. Clark in last year’s NCAA final. Ms. Reese’s postgame press conference after her team lost to Iowa this year, where she tearfully discussed how she had been “sexualized” and mistreated, was a reminder of how race-based narratives can be good for business and bad for humanity.

Nevertheless, women in sports have persevered, and have carried themselves with such power and grace that they have demanded the respect of sports media and colleagues alike. At this hour, there may be no greater ambassador and defender of the game than Ms. Staley. The afternoon before the title game, she was asked about her views on transgender players in women’s sports. Her response was inclusive of transgender players and a rebuke to trollish online commentators: “So now the barnstormer people are going to flood my [social media] timeline and be a distraction to me on one of the biggest days of our game, and I’m OK with that. I really am.”

That stern picture was juxtaposed with pure bliss after Ms. Staley allowed herself to be consumed in pink confetti just minutes after her team avenged last season’s heartbreaking loss. Her team’s relentless rotations, her words of affirmation, and a willingness to be a spokesperson for the game upheld a familiar basketball adage: Defense wins championships.

Editor’s note: This article was updated to include viewership numbers from the championship game.

Reuters

An aerial view shows a deforested area during an operation to combat deforestation near Uruara, Para State, Brazil.

A few years ago, world leaders pledged to “halt and reverse” global tree loss by 2030 in response to climate change. Brazil and Colombia show how that might be done. The two South American countries slowed deforestation in the Amazon River basin between 2022 and 2023 by 36% and 49% respectively, according to new data from the University of Maryland.

Those reductions rest on the idea that environmental challenges are opportunities for renewing trust in societies torn by conflict or weakened by corrupt and distant governments. That represents a growing consensus among conservationists and peace-builders that their fields are inseparable.

Both Brazil and Colombia have tied environmental progress to local empowerment. In Brazil, President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva returned to power last year vowing to reverse the rapid acceleration of rainforest loss that occurred under his predecessor. He restored conservation regulations and bolstered law enforcement in the country’s forests. Perhaps more importantly, President da Silva, popularly known as Lula, has made Indigenous peoples in the Amazon basin key stewards of his conservation strategy.

In Colombia, where splintered guerrilla warfare has endured for more than half a century, armed groups have engaged in illicit deforestation to fund their causes. President Gustavo Petro has made forestry protection central to his goal of negotiating peace simultaneously with dozens of armed factions and criminal gangs. That strategy is similar to a community-based conservation strategy in Rwanda that draws neighbors together in mandatory local initiatives each month to encourage peaceful coexistence.

Colombian officials have traveled the country promoting a toolkit for local environmental action that emphasizes Indigenous rights, community leadership, and shared stewardship of natural resources. The country has reversed tree loss in part by encouraging armed militias to become partners in protecting biodiversity.

Such community meetings often entail a touch of humility on all sides. “Please excuse us for talking so long, but we’ve never had this opportunity,” one local leader told Colombian officials during a public gathering on peace and environmental issues that lasted three hours.

“The story of deforestation in Colombia is ... deeply intertwined with the country’s politics,” Alejandra Laina, director of natural resources in the Colombia office of World Resources Institute, told the BBC last week. “There is no doubt that recent government action and the commitment of the communities has had a profound impact on Colombia’s forests.”

In countries emerging from conflict or periods of political instability, environmental problems often exacerbate instability. Yet as the editors of the journal Environment and Security noted last month, “bottom-up initiatives that strengthen community cohesion while addressing climate impacts and environmental degradation” show promise. In Brazil and Colombia, progress in saving forests also marks progress in mutual respect and rule of law.