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1981 to Present

Forty-Six Years in the Field

Every catalog we ever printed.
Every year we said what we believed.

The Collection

Becoming SFS

Nearly a half century since the dream began. One argument made over and over, in different language each time: that the world itself is a better classroom than any building, and that the best way to learn about an ecosystem is to live in it alongside the people who already do. The catalogs are where SFS worked that argument out: conservation urgency in the eighties, the decision to stay in places in the nineties, systems thinking in the 2000s, applied research in the 2010s, reciprocity and identity in the 2020s. Each decade contributes a frame the next inherits and refines.

Reading them in order is a strange kind of time travel. You know which bets pay off. You know which ideas turn out to be the durable ones. The people who put these pages together had none of that: they had a typewriter, a P.O. Box, and a conviction that what they believed was worth putting in print. And somewhere in the reading you realize that one day someone will read the 2026 catalog the same way you’re reading the 1981 one (with the same unearned omniscience) and find parts of you quaint, parts of you right, and the whole of you earnest. The best any era can do is what the first one did: say clearly what it believes, put it in print, and go.

Taken together, they show what we have consistently valued: living in the places we study, staying long enough to build relationships there, and treating fieldwork as the core of the education.

1980s

Nine expeditions in 1981 become five permanent research centers by decade’s end. Underneath it ran a conviction: fieldwork teaches what classrooms cannot. In 1984, we invent the twelve-week semester abroad in environmental science, and coin “The World Is Your Classroom,” a line we have kept for forty years.

1990s

Permanent centers settle into the places around them. Faculty become residents, not visitors; students become crew, not passengers. Kenya, Australia, Costa Rica, the Turks and Caicos Islands: long relationships with long-studied landscapes. The catalogs in this decade answer a simple question: what happens when a school decides to stay?

2000s

Twenty-five years in, we start sounding sure of what we believe. Twelve thousand alumni, and a vocabulary that now includes environmental justice, systems thinking, and climate. The catalogs stop describing courses and start articulating beliefs.

2010s

Six new centers open: Bhutan, Tanzania, Panama, Cambodia, Peru, and Chile. By 2019 the catalog lists ten field centers, double digits for the first time. “Applied, user-inspired research” names a new idea of what the science is for, and a ground-up redesign that year places Rachel Carson across the opening spread.

2020s

The 40th anniversary lands with an expanded sense of purpose: diversity and inclusion reframed as a generative force, student voices on the cover, climate as the central frame. Croatia and Italy open as our first European centers: twelve countries, the widest map since the 1990s. In 2025, the catalog says what the whole archive has been saying: “The World Is Alive. Step Into Its Story.” A year later SFS goes back to 1984 and swaps a single word. “The World Is Your Classroom” becomes “The Field Is Your Classroom.”