College students are often quick to point out—correctly—that they are not the primary drivers of climate change. Corporations, governments, and fossil fuel industries bear the greatest responsibility for rising emissions.
But that reality does not mean student behavior is irrelevant. On college campuses, everyday choices made by thousands of students add up, shaping both a university’s carbon footprint and the culture around climate action.
Universities contribute to climate change through several types of emissions, often grouped into three categories or scopes.
There are Scope 1 emissions, which come from on-site fuel use, such as heating systems or university vehicle fleets. Along with these are Scope 2 emissions, which include purchased electricity that powers classrooms, dorms, and labs.
The largest category for many campuses, however, is Scope 3 emissions, indirect sources like commuting, air travel, food purchasing, waste, construction materials, and the goods students consume.
It is in this third category where student behavior matters most. Scope 3 emissions are shaped by daily habits: how students get to campus, what they eat, and what they buy.
While students often have lower per-person emissions than older adults due to smaller living spaces and fewer long-distance trips, those advantages can disappear quickly through heavy car use, fast fashion purchases, takeout packaging, and dorm-related waste.
Just as importantly, the habits and norms students develop during college often carry into adulthood. Choices that feel minor now can shape long-term patterns of consumption, transportation, and environmental responsibility, increasing the likelihood of higher-impact behaviors later in life.
At Purdue University Fort Wayne, this issue is especially visible. PFW is widely considered a commuter-heavy campus, with university leaders estimating that roughly three–quarters of students commute instead of living on or near campus.
Transportation alone becomes a major climate factor under those conditions. Using EPA averages: A student commuting 10 miles one-way, 4 days/week, over two semesters produces = 1 metric ton of CO₂ per year. When multiplied across thousands of commuters, even modest individual changes begin to matter.
Consumption patterns compound the problem. Overconsumption among younger generations has become normalized, fueled by social media trends, influencer marketing, and constant product cycling.
Trend-driven purchases, whether they be clothing or collectibles like Funko Pops (an especially wasteful product), may feel harmless, but they carry real environmental costs.
Electronics tell a similar story. Many students upgrade phones, tablets, and gadgets frequently, often without properly recycling old devices. Surveys show that a majority of Gen Z and Millennial consumers do not fully understand what electronic waste is, and many throw devices directly into the trash. This creates one of the fastest-growing waste streams in the world and embeds additional emissions into mining, manufacturing, and shipping replacement devices.
What makes this issue particularly frustrating is that students are not indifferent to climate change. Surveys consistently show that a majority of young people are deeply worried about the climate crisis, with many reporting anxiety that affects their daily lives.
Yet awareness does not always translate into action. Research has identified a persistent attitude–behavior gap: students may understand the environmental harm of fast fashion or excessive consumption, but continue to indulge in these habits because they are cheap, convenient, and socially reinforced.
This gap is not simply a failure of personal responsibility. It reflects structural pressures—limited transit options, affordability constraints, and digital ecosystems designed to encourage constant consumption.
As long as trend culture and algorithm-driven marketing dominate student spaces, climate concern alone will struggle to turn into consistent behavior change. However, institutional support—especially around transportation and food systems—can help shift habits in areas where students have the greatest opportunity to make lower-impact choices.
There are, of course, simple ways in which students can adjust their lives to reduce impact. Carpooling, combining errands, adjusting class schedules, or using transit where available can reduce emissions. Small energy habits, such as turning off lights, lowering the heat or air conditioning when away, and using energy-saving device settings, also add up. Choosing plant-forward meals occasionally, reducing food waste, and reusing textbooks or dorm goods can lower emissions without demanding major lifestyle overhauls.
Beyond individual choices, students hold real influence over institutional action. Universities often respond to student pressure, whether through climate action plans, renewable energy targets, or improved transit and recycling infrastructure.
On many campuses, including this one, students are already working, formally and informally, to push sustainability efforts forward, demonstrating that change is possible and that individual involvement contributes to a broader, ongoing movement rather than starting from scratch.
Student organizations, campus committees, and student government all offer avenues to push for transparency and accountability. Civic engagement, such as voting and participating in local community and governmental planning extend that influence beyond campus borders.
Students are not the villains of the climate story. But neither are they powerless bystanders. The reality lies somewhere in between. Our daily choices shape campus emissions, signal our climate stance values, and influence whether our climate concern becomes real action. At commuter-heavy schools like PFW, those choices matter even more. Climate progress does not begin and end with students—but it does pass through them.