Forget about the local oaks, there's no gratitude in that. We need to spread Long Term Fear - something more along the lines of Ailanthus altissima. People will accept the cute young plants called "Tree of Heaven". And it won't matter how they nurture them; they are like the Jar in the Wallace Stevens poem, set them anywhere and watch them take dominion. They require nothing to grow, not even soil; and once they take over, they are ruthless.
A few years of that reign, and people will celebrate the arborist as a kind of Moses figure, come to relieve the plague. We will cut them down and recommend "more suitable" varieties of shade trees. We will be heros; committees will form and request we march in parades. We will wear our climbing saddles in public and cut ribbons when new schools open. We will be champions . . . like nothing else in Tennessee