Pamela Gill Alabaster

“It occurred to me then that corporations were no longer going to be judged solely on financial performance,” she says. “There were new dimensions emerging—behavior, responsibility, impact.”

That realization marked a turning point. Without a scientific background, she made a bold decision: return to school. While working full-time, raising three children as a single mother, she enrolled in Columbia University’s first Master’s program in Sustainability Management.

It wasn’t easy, but it was transformative. “When you go back to school later in life, you connect dots differently,” she reflects. “You’re not just learning; you’re understanding.”

Today, Alabaster sits on the other side of the classroom teaching the next generation of sustainability leaders. But what she brings isn’t just academic knowledge; it’s lived experience.

“One of the biggest gaps in education,” she explains, “is the difference between theory and practice. Students can learn everything from a book, but real-world application is where the truth reveals itself.”

She recalls conversations with highly accomplished academic researchers who, despite years of study, had never navigated the realities of the corporate world, questions about workplace norms, expectations, even basic professional dynamics.

It’s a stark reminder: knowledge alone isn’t enough.

Experience, context, and human understanding are just as critical.

But perhaps the most striking shift Pamela observes isn’t in curriculum—it’s in the students themselves. Today’s younger generations—Gen Z and Gen Alpha—are fundamentally different in how they see the world.

“They’re more aware. More conscious. More connected,” she says. “Sustainability isn’t a topic for them, it’s embedded in how they think.”

This generation doesn’t separate business from ethics, or profit from purpose. They expect both. Even in a climate where ESG (Environmental, Social, Governance) initiatives face political resistance, Alabaster sees something remarkable: resilience.

“They are undeterred,” she says. “They still believe they can create change—and they want careers that reflect that.”

One classroom example captures this shift perfectly. During a case study on the diamond industry, Alabaster posed a simple question: given the choice between a mined diamond and a lab-grown one, which would students choose?

The response was immediate and unanimous among the women in the room.

“Lab-grown,” she says. “No hesitation.” Younger consumers are not just evaluating products, they’re evaluating impact. The history of “blood diamonds,” environmental damage from mining, and human rights concerns all factor into decision-making.

And lab-grown diamonds offer an alternative: identical in composition, but created with renewable energy and significantly lower environmental cost.

“The data supports it,” she adds. “Younger generations care deeply about the ethical implications behind what they buy.”

This shift signals something profound: value is no longer defined by rarity alone, but by responsibility. This evolution extends beyond products to the brands themselves.

“You can’t just be a good product at a good price anymore,” Alabaster says. “That’s not enough.”

Today’s consumers—especially younger ones—are asking bigger questions. What does this brand stand for? What impact does it have? Does it align with my values? Brands that fail to answer those questions risk becoming irrelevant.

“People are drawn to authenticity,” she explains. “To companies that demonstrate purpose beyond profit.”

And while experimentation still exists loyalty is earned differently now.

Part of this transformation is driven by access.

Unlike previous generations, today’s students are not limited by textbooks or libraries. Information is instant, global, and constant.

“They have everything at their fingertips,” Alabaster says. “AI-enabled, digitally connected—more access than any generation before them.”

But with that access comes complexity.

Students often turn first to social media for news—then verify through more traditional sources. It’s a layered approach to truth, shaped by both convenience and skepticism.

And while this creates challenges—misinformation, overload—it also creates opportunity.

“The possibilities are endless,” she says.

At the heart of Alabaster’s philosophy is one core idea: interconnectedness. Sustainability is not a single issue. It’s a system. “You can’t separate human health from environmental health. Or the economy from natural systems,” she explains. “They’re all intertwined.”

Yet one of the biggest barriers to change is perception. Climate change, for example, often feels distant, something that happens “somewhere else. We experience it through extreme events,” she says. “But we don’t always connect our daily behaviors to long-term impact.” That disconnect is what she hopes to change. Because once you see the connections, you can’t unsee them.

When asked what single change could have the greatest global impact, Alabaster’s answer is striking in its simplicity. “Listen to the science.” Not opinion. Not politics. Not convenience. Science. “It gives us the roadmap,” she says. “But it has to be paired with empathy, the ability to understand how our actions affect others.”

In a rapid-fire moment of reflection, Alabaster describes herself as a bridge. “Everything is connected, and we need to bring people together to move forward.”

Despite the scale of the challenges ahead, Alabaster remains optimistic. Not because the problems are small, but because the response is growing. “I draw courage from young people,” she says. “They are fearless. They’re moving forward in a positive direction.”

They are informed. Engaged. Unwilling to accept the status quo. Perhaps most importantly they believe change is possible. If there’s one takeaway from this conversation, it’s this:

Sustainability is no longer a niche conversation. It is the defining conversation.

And the next generation isn’t waiting for permission to lead it. They already are.