Droplets of blood red algae dance in a bubbling beaker in a Wai驶anae High School classroom, as Leih艒k奴 Elementary schoolchildren huddle around. 

Recent Wai驶anae graduate Hyrum Tom and teacher Tyson Arasato tell the visiting children all about the algae, limu kohu, a popular edible species native to Hawai驶i. The algae population is declining in the wild,  to feed the community and help the wild limu recover.

By next year, Arasato said, the school hopes to scale up from beakers to large tanks full of algae for the community to consume.

鈥淚nstead of them having to go out and pick it, where it鈥檚 not found as much, we鈥檒l let it restore outside in the wild,鈥� Arasato said. 鈥淭hen we can actually supply people with the food that they need 鈥� that鈥檚 the goal of aquaculture.鈥�

The Marine Science Learning Center is the only dedicated high school aquaculture center in the state, and it鈥檚 been expanding its operations in recent years to give students more hands-on experience cultivating and caring for species many believe could become the lifeblood of Hawai驶i鈥檚 food system and economy.

The state鈥檚 aquaculture industry is expected to boom from a $90 million a year industry to $600 million a year in the next decade 鈥� according to the Department of Agriculture 鈥� and researchers say it will soon face a dearth of workers, which needs to be addressed if the industry is going to reach its full potential.

But it鈥檚 something of a Catch-22: despite predictions of workforce shortages and future growth, few of the students who have gone through the Wai驶anae center have found jobs in the field.

Part of the challenge is that many of the existing jobs require college degrees, something that . A bigger issue is that jobs at any level of experience are limited at the moment.

鈥淭he big bottleneck is not that we can鈥檛 do workforce training,鈥� said Maria Haws, an aquaculture professor at the University of Hawai驶i Hilo. 鈥淚t鈥檚 that we need to grow the industry.鈥�

But the state has done little to invest in the industry in recent years and lawmakers have yet to heed calls from local industry leaders and researchers to encourage growth through regulatory reform or investments in infrastructure.

Now, as a major aquaculture producer shutters on the Big Island and another sues the state for crippling its business, concerns are growing over whether Hawai驶i can actually achieve its potential. 

Despite the uncertainty, leaders and students at the Marine Science Learning Center are continuing to build upon the center鈥檚 decades of research.

The school is now using grant funding to expand its footprint with new tanks, as part of its ultimate bid to boost Leeward O驶ahu鈥檚 food security and establish a hatchery for native fish to reestablish throughout the state. Those species include Wai驶anae鈥檚 namesake 驶anae 鈥� native mullet.

Restoring mullet鈥檚 place on the Westside is intended to help students connect with their heritage and sense of place, but also as a way to boost food self-sufficiency and address the region鈥檚 food insecurity, which is among the worst on O驶ahu.

鈥淲e need to get our fishponds functional again,鈥� learning center coordinator Dana Hoppe said. 鈥淵ou want to talk about food security? That鈥檚 food security right there.鈥�

Addressing Industry Challenges

Industry leaders have long said aquaculture is the most promising sector of agriculture for Hawai驶i, a claim in line with global trends that show  for farmed fish and other marine species is accelerating.

Hawai驶i, they said, has a key role to play in the U.S. and global aquaculture industries 鈥� but the state has to address multiple obstacles for that to happen, according to .

In addition to building a workforce pipeline, the state needs to simplify the regulatory landscape, to attract entrepreneurs and encourage more private and public investments in the sector.

, completed by an international aquaculture consultant group hired by the state, noted that the state needs to invest more in infrastructure to help foster that development, such as land and processing facilities.

But the workforce was a key issue, one nearly every aquaculture business surveyed noted. They struggled to find well-qualified candidates within the state, while also finding it difficult to attract out-of-state talent.

Without fixing the apparent workforce deficit, the report said, the state鈥檚 aquaculture outlook would only worsen.

But the state has yet to show substantial support for the aquaculture industry and workforce development, according to Sen. Glenn Wakai, a longtime proponent for aquaculture in the Legislature.

The industry鈥檚 potential to grow to $600 million a year by 2034 requires dual efforts, happening simultaneously, to ensure jobs are there for young graduates, Wakai said. One idea is to build spaces for budding aquaculture entrepreneurs and businesses, like agricultural parks, while also attracting established businesses to conduct research in the state.

But the model for such an effort 鈥� Hawai驶i Oceanic Science and Technology Park in Kona 鈥� has run into problems with water supply and tenants are suing the state for damages related to water quality.

Without the park, or more like it, graduates and the workforce will have nowhere to go but outside Hawai驶i, Waikai said.

鈥淜udos to Wai驶anae,鈥� Wakai said. 鈥淏ut when the kids all want to go to college, what kind of job opportunities will be here for them?鈥�

Teaching Rigorous Skills

Hoppe and learning center staff, including former students, recently picked up a shipment of speckled and colorful tilapia for a senior capstone project. 

The tilapia will continue to grow in their tanks as students adjust the level of salt in their water tanks, to gain a better understanding of how water salinity affects flavor. Hoppe said she鈥檚 hopeful that fish raised at the school will soon follow the path of ogo, a seaweed the school provides 鈥� about 250 pounds per month 鈥� to the community鈥檚 elderly through the 鈥�. 

Students learn to monitor water quality, salinity, fish health and a long list of complex tasks as part of their work. And they also pass on their knowledge to visiting school groups, Hoppe said.

“We make sure that the curriculum is rigorous science,鈥� Hoppe said. 鈥淏ut the skills are universal: Trying to teach them how to think critically, trying to teach them how to be responsible, trying to teach them values.鈥� 

Hoppe said the practical experience helps show students their own potential. 

And while students at Wai驶anae may not all make their way into the aquaculture industry, the education is not wasted, Hoppe said, nor does their final career destination matter that much.

鈥淭he skills are universal,鈥� she said.

Wai驶anae High School鈥檚 work has found support from lawmakers and state agencies, which fund many of the center鈥檚 projects, including the upcoming expansion.

The center is poised to begin work Thursday, installing new tanks and increasing the center鈥檚 footprint on campus, which will allow for more research in coming years.

Past students have investigated everything from raising shrimp, mullet and tilapia within one system, to an upcoming project focused on how salt levels in water influence the flavor of tilapia. The school is also part of a research collaboration with Big Island biotechnology firm Symbrosia on raising limu kohu.

Wai驶anae High School鈥檚 center is already unique from every other school in the state, with the only secondary learning center dedicated to aquaculture, uniquely positioning the roughly two dozen students enrolled each year to learn highly technical aspects of fish and algae farming.

In addition to Wai驶anae, four other schools statewide have learning centers focused more broadly on food and agriculture.

Waipahu High School is one of those schools, with brand new facilities dedicated to natural resources and agricultural education. Aquaculture is part of that, led in part by former shrimp farmer and Waipahu teacher Jeff Garvey.

Garvey has developed a workforce program to help build interest in aquaculture, alongside the University of Hawai驶i Hilo, which is the only college in the state to offer a full, four-year bachelor鈥檚 degree .

But even with a new 鈥渇ancy and chic鈥�  at Waipahu High School, Garvey said, it can be difficult to attract students to the field.

For many students, attaining a college degree is out of reach, according to marine center coordinator Hoppe. So getting a job in an industry that wants certain qualifications is difficult, despite their years of experience, making jobs in the trades more attractive and attainable.

But even college graduates are suffering. Some are forced to take other work due to a lack of opportunity within the industry, according to Maria Haws, a UH aquaculture professor and director of the Pacific Aquaculture and Coastal Resources Center.

One recent college graduate has just become a firefighter, Haws said, planning on saving money to later start her own farm due to the cost of getting started in Hawai驶i.

鈥淚f we cannot set up farms, and if families and small businesses can鈥檛 set up farms because of regulatory inhibitions, what鈥檚 the point of producing a bunch of well-trained students that will just go somewhere else and get paid a lot more?鈥� Haws said. 鈥淭here鈥檚 not enough business here to absorb them.鈥�

And while some students end up in research roles or as educators, Haws said,  on academic funding may also compromise that pipeline, too.

Haws said she hopes more lawmakers step up to address the shortcomings in the industry, in light of climate change, movements at the federal level and for the benefit of the state in general.

鈥淚f we have to import 80% of our seafood, yet we consume almost twice as much per capita as other states,鈥� Haws said, 鈥渨hat the heck are we really doing?鈥�

鈥溾�� is funded in part by grants from the Stupski Foundation, Ulupono Fund at the Hawai鈥榠 Community Foundation and the Frost Family Foundation.

McCORMICK 鈥� Cows compose the greeting committee at the Governor鈥檚 School for Agriculture, flocking to the fence just past the entrance to watch visitors drive past.

Established in 1797 as a farming school for poor and orphaned children, the campus known for centuries as John de la Howe has changed missions several times. The latest turned it into the nation鈥檚 only residential public high school providing an agricultural education.

Pastures of horses, sheep and cows dot the 1,310-acre property tucked off a rural road in McCormick County inside a national forest.

The campus鈥� dozen residential halls are full, and for the first time since the new mission began, officials are having to turn away prospective students because of a lack of space, said Tim Keown, the school鈥檚 president.

Two more halls sit mostly empty as they await decorations from the school鈥檚 alumni committee and, next year, a new batch of students to fill them.

After a rocky start, including findings of ethical and financial mismanagement during the school鈥檚 first year after the change, things are looking up, Keown said.

Last year, the school regained the accreditation it lost in 2016. And for the first time in 25 years, auditors last year found no problems, a rare accomplishment for a state agency, he said.

Driving through the expansive campus, where classrooms abut greenhouses and open pastures, Keown described a vision for the school鈥檚 future, including continuing to expand its capacity and offering more classes to cover the full spectrum of agriculture.

His ideas have gotten support from the House of Representatives鈥� budget writers.

That chamber鈥檚 state spending plan for 2025-26, , includes $2 million for continuing renovations and $4 million for a new meat processing plant.

鈥淲e don鈥檛 expect (students) to all go back and be full-time farmers,鈥� Keown said. 鈥淏ut there are hundreds of thousands of jobs across South Carolina that need young people to enter those jobs.鈥�

Becoming a school for agriculture

The mission adopted in 2020 is a return to the school鈥檚 roots.

Dr. John de la Howe, a French doctor who immigrated to Charleston in 1764, that he wanted the farm he had purchased to be an agricultural seminary for 鈥�12 poor boys and 12 poor girls,鈥� giving preference to orphans, Keown said.

For years, that was what the school was.

During World War I, John de la Howe became a state agency and a home for orphaned children, which it remained until the 1980s. Then, as orphanages waned in use, its purpose adjusted again to become a public residential school for sixth- through 10-graders with serious behavior problems.

That, too, fell out of favor over the years, as more counties established programs that kept troubled teens closer to home.

Attendance dropped, and costs per students skyrocketed.

In 2003, then-Gov. Mark Sanford recommended, without success, closing the school and sending its students to a military-like public school in West Columbia for at-risk teens. In 2014, Gov. Nikki Haley recommended putting the Department of Juvenile Justice in charge.

, with the school鈥檚 accreditation on probation, House budget writers recommended temporarily transferring oversight to Clemson University.

Weeks later, the the school鈥檚 accreditation. Deficiencies cited by inspectors included classes taught by uncertified teachers, the school not meeting the needs of students with disabilities, and the lack of online access.

That forced the Legislature to make a decision.

Legislators eventually settled on creating a third residential high school offering a specific education. The agriculture school joined existing governor鈥檚 schools for the arts and for science and math.

The year the school was supposed to open its doors to its first new class of students, the COVID-19 pandemic began. Distancing restrictions meant students could no longer share rooms, so the school halved its capacity and began its first year with 33 students.

The next year, the school鈥檚 population doubled.

At the start of the 2024 school year, 81 students were enrolled, and another 81 had graduated. Once renovations in three dorms are complete, the capacity will increase to 124, plus day students, Keown said.

鈥淚t鈥檚 been like putting together a huge puzzle with many missing pieces over the last couple of years,鈥� Keown said. 鈥淏ut we鈥檙e finally finding all those pieces, and it鈥檚 all making more sense.鈥�

The new mission

Blake Arias knew he wanted to study plants. Other than that, he had little interest in agriculture when he applied for the governor鈥檚 school.

鈥淚f you looked at my application, it was very obvious that I didn鈥檛 have a background and that I didn鈥檛 know much,鈥� Arias said.

When he first arrived at the school nearly three hours from his home in Summerton, he wasn鈥檛 particularly interested in handling animals. And he really, really didn鈥檛 want to learn to weld.

Three years later, Arias, who graduates this spring, still focuses primarily on plants.

However, he also spends hours every day after class helping a rabbit, Chunky, lose some weight before he takes her to shows. He鈥檚 working on earning a beekeeping certification. And he even learned how to weld.

鈥淎m I the best welder? Absolutely not,鈥� Arias said. 鈥淏ut I really enjoyed it, and it taught me something new because they gave me the opportunity.鈥�

Arias is part of about half of the school鈥檚 population that comes in with little background in agriculture, Keown said. Applicants must have . The goal is to take all kinds of students, whether they grew up on a farm or in a city and show them all sorts of opportunities in agriculture.

That鈥檚 not limited to farming.

The school offers four designated pathways: agricultural mechanics, horticulture, plant and animal systems, and environmental and natural resources. Students choose a focus, but they鈥檙e introduced to a sampler platter of what鈥檚 out there, Keown said.

鈥淚t really shows you all the possibilities that there are in each field,鈥� said Emily White, a senior from McCormick.

Day to day

The days typically begin long before students report to the cafeteria at 7:45 a.m.

Like on any farm, horses, pigs and rabbits need feeding and cleaning, and plants need tending.

Students take a blend of core classes, such as English, math and social studies, and classes focused on agriculture, Keown said.

Even the core classes, which are all honors-level courses, typically use agriculture as a touch point for students, said Lyle Fulmer, a recent graduate.

Math problems, for instance, might use real-life examples of balancing a budget on a farm. For students interested in agriculture, that adds excitement to what might usually be their hum-drum classes, he said.

鈥淓ven if it was frustrating and I didn鈥檛 know how to solve the problem, I would work through it and I would know that this was something that I very well could be doing someday,鈥� said Fulmer, who is now a freshman at Clemson University.

Once classes are over, students have the rest of the afternoon to do as they please.

White said she typically goes to the pig barn to clean, feed and work with Hank the Tank, a pig she鈥檚 planning to show.

Other students might practice rodeo riding or clay shooting, two of the sports the school offers. Some gather at the saw mill to help process trees salvaged when Tropical Storm Helene swept through campus last September.

By 6:15 p.m., students are expected to return to their residence halls or other communal areas for an hour of study time. Like college students, they have the run of their residence halls under the watchful eye of a residential advisor.

Along with accumulating credits to get ahead in college courses, the freedom Fulmer had as a high school student helped prepare him for living in the dorms and all the challenges that accompany that. He already knew how to keep his space tidy and handle disagreements with roommates, which many incoming freshmen don鈥檛, he said.

鈥淚t really did prepare me a lot for college,鈥� Fulmer said.

What the future holds

Standing on the front lawn of the president鈥檚 mansion, glimpses of the dining hall visible across an expansive open lawn, Keown described his vision of the school鈥檚 future.

In the next couple of years, the school will start offering classes in culinary arts and hospitality management, which will help students who want to go into the growing industry of agritourism that creates attractions out of farms.

鈥淥ur ag kids learn to grow (the food), our culinary students prepare it, our tourism hospitality students manage the banquets,鈥� Keown said of his vision.

Also in the near future is the meat processing plant, which Keown hopes to have finished in the next three years. That will give students skills to land high-paying jobs straight out of high school and fill a gap in the agricultural industry, Keown said.

A decade from now, Keown hopes to see 300 students roaming the grounds. He also wants them to grow about half of what they eat, compared with 20% now.

In Keown鈥檚 mind, the school presents a bright spot for the future of agriculture. While the number of farmers under the age of 35 has grown slightly in recent years, the average age of farmers is 58, according to the U.S Department of Agriculture.

Photos of recent alumni hung from flagpoles on campus. Driving under them, Keown named each graduate and where they went to school. Many go to Clemson, though some went to schools in other states.

Most are still pursuing degrees in agriculture.

鈥淭hey are making us really proud,鈥� Keown said.

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Lodi鈥檚 position as a region that grew and sold its grapes 鈥� rather than making its own wine 鈥� was solidified in the 1920s during Prohibition. When other winemaking regions crumbled, Lodi flourished by capitalizing on one provision in the Volstead Act of 1919 that permitted every head of household to make up to 200 gallons of fermented fruit juice for their own consumption. In the blink of an eye, Americans across the country all became winemakers. Lodi鈥檚 farmers quickly turned their businesses from growing grapes for local winemakers and co-ops to growing and shipping grapes to home winemakers across America 鈥� and the model stuck.

Over the past three decades the crop value has quadrupled in Lodi, and the number of independent wineries is edging up, in an effort to encourage wine tourism and local winemaking 鈥� and, in effect, creating a career pathway for area students. The nonprofit group San Joaquin A+ partnered with the Lodi Unified School District, Delta College and the Lodi Winegrape Commission to design a technical education curriculum and internship pipeline to prepare students for careers in the winegrowing, winemaking and hospitality industries. The program, Growing Futures, is now in its first year, and has been described as an innovative solution to the skills gap, a financially rewarding career path for many young people, and a much-needed economic boost for family farms.