By first period, the hallway already smells like yesterday’s soda — sweet, sharp, a little stale. Fruit flies loop above blue rims scuffed white at the edges, and a ribbon of tea glints across the linoleum toward a poster that says “reduce, reuse, recycle.” The scene is loud without a sound: good intentions, rotting.
We didn’t lose recycling because the school failed us. We lost it because students kept tossing food and half-full drinks into the blue bins, contaminating whole bags, leading to them being sent to the landfill and covering special education students in filth. Until we change our habits, recycling can’t work here.
Years ago, former environmental science teacher Meghan Callaghan secured a Hubbard Foundation grant that covered the cost of the bins, provided liners, and funded a monthly recycling dumpster. According to Principal Aaron Bearinger, that seed money got the system moving and kept it afloat for a while.
But soon the workload outgrew goodwill. Having more than 100 classrooms turned a simple route for special education students into a daily marathon. The Alternative Curriculum Program (ACP) stepped in with carts, clipboards, and a rotation to make the rounds.
But contamination changed the job. Some rooms had clean paper and bottles; others hid half-full cups and food. When ACP students lifted a bag, the liquid pooled at the bottom splashed out or the bag tore, soaking their sleeves — and once a bag is wet, the whole load goes to the landfill.
This is where the cost became human. ACP teacher Alexa Ryan watched ACP students come back wet and sticky after collecting contaminated recycling bins, changing into new shirts, and missing instruction while classmates moved on. Pride drains fast when your afternoon is defined by someone else’s leftovers.
The toll piled up in quiet ways. A nudge about a bin that wasn’t pulled. A late arrival to class with damp sleeves and a shrug that says, “I tried.” A lesson lost to cleanup, then another to finding clean clothes.
The ACP students still chased pride where they could. They liked being useful, pushing a cart with purpose, and waving at students when picking up the bins. But that feeling is fleeting when a single careless toss can reroute your whole day.
While the human cost piled up, the financial one wasn’t far behind. The grant ended last year, and the dumpster bill landed in the school budget. Paying for pickups that might be mostly contaminated doesn’t feel like stewardship; it feels like a shrug.
None of this argues against recycling. It fights against a model built on heroics instead of design. The rebuilding of recycling starts with us students.
No student should be soaked in another kid’s drink to keep the building “green.” ACP students handle pickup and deserve clean, dry bags and respect. If the job leaves them sticky or embarrassed, the system has to change.
Changing the system means changing the details students meet at the bin. Start with design — bold, eye-level labels at every bin cluster, add “empty-liquids” stations right beside the bins, and create new lids that have narrow openings so trash doesn’t slide in and puddles don’t start forming.
But design alone can’t fix our recycling system — responsibility and work have to be distributed. We can do this by keeping ACP students involved without making them carry the building. Launch a student Green Team for training and spot checks, and select a bin captain in each classroom to catch contamination before it starts.
Mainly, we have to reinforce habits in ourselves and our friends. You can start with a simple mantra: empty, dry, in.
Measure what matters: how many bags stay clean, how many get tossed for spills, and how often we really need a pickup. Share the weekly numbers in the hallway and recognize the classes doing it right.
Most of all, center the people who do the work. The best days are when students feel capable and connected, not sticky and sidelined. According to Principal Aaron Bearringer, sustainability depends on shared ownership and a structure that survives graduation.
Ending a broken system is honest. But ending the idea of recycling would be a mistake. We have to take responsibility in order to bring the blue bins back. We start with preserving ACP students’ dignity, smart design next, and schoolwide commitment always — so the hallway finally smells like nothing at all.