The confusion of composting

If Middlebury has taught me one thing, it’s that this planet is absolutely mind-blowing incredible. Think about it: Earth has created and supports countless forms of simple and complex life, including humans, which are (most likely) the most intelligent beings within five light years in any direction. In addition, it has the Amazon, Niagara Falls, the Alps, the Great Barrier Reef and this fantastic fall foliage. We absolutely need to protect this awesome and beautiful planet, and there is a whole lot more we could do than we are doing now.

However, one thing gets in the way of these good intentions: some of us are just a little bit lazy. For some reason, the ideas of ditching the personal printer, boycotting solo cups and hanging clotheslines across the room do not sound very appealing to everyone. Middlebury has ways to deal with these people and coerce them to partake in more Earth-friendly practices. Unfortunately, collateral damage in the war against environmental laziness comes in the form of environmental awkwardness.

Undoubtedly the most disruptive environmental initiative was the elimination of trays from dining halls. None of us, except for a few super seniors, have ever held a tray on campus, and we have all adapted surprisingly well to carrying all of our food in two hands, two forearms, two armpits and one set of teeth. It’s ironic if you think about it: the one skill Middlebury teaches to all of its students is the ability to wait tables. But it can turn awkward really fast when gravity wins; there’s no better way to capture the attention of hundreds of judging eyes than to drop a plateful of falafel in the entryway of Ross. I will surely never forget the infamous tower-of-ceramic-bowls incident of a couple years ago, nor will I forget the person responsible.

Other issues with environmental policies stem from confusing trash-sorting bins, the champion of which is the Grille. Dealing with a leftover food plate or fresh Odwalla is pretty self-explanatory for the average lazy environmentalist, but it’s the paper cups and napkins that cause problems. The sign above says that they go in the compost. That makes sense, because paper is biodegradable. But why don’t we just put them in the paper bin, then? And why can’t we put other paper in the compost if it’s biodegradable? I sometimes peek into the compost bin in an attempt to justify my confusion, and I am rarely disappointed.
Notable finds have been packets of ERes notes, small books and, my personal favorite, a ghastly number of Peeps. I guess the Peeps were in the correct bin, but the image of a little boy morosely relieving himself of about 300 tiny yellow marshmallow chickens is too much for me to handle.

Middlebury’s greatest environmental assets, however, are its students — particularly the not-lazy ones. These people will take any amount of awkwardness for the good of the environment, and we need them to whip us lazy folks into shape. We need them to loudly remind us how much starving children in Burundi would appreciate the tofu scramble we are about to throw away. We need them to sneak into our rooms when we’re away to turn out the lights and make sure the trash is properly separated from the recyclables. And, without them, we would never know that an eco-friendly, packaging-free hair conditioner can be made by mixing simple ingredients such as avocado, honey, raw eggs and yogurt.

So thank you, Middlebury College, for your devotion to protecting this wonderful planet, and we will do our best to deal with all the humiliation, confusion and weirdness that goal entails.