I'm a good little faux new age hippie. Although I don't own Birkenstocks or Doc Marten's, I'm from Vermont, my family composts, I eat organic, I like the Grateful Dead and I think that new vegetable garden at the White House is rockin'. I always use canvas bags on my Co-op runs, I don't litter, I own a BPA-free Nalgene and I think every high school kid should watch "An Inconvenient Truth" in science class. Save the polar bears!
I am however, the worst recycler on the planet, and it is for this reason that I seriously doubt that Dartmouth students will ever truly "go green." I'm not saying our hearts aren't in the right place -- they totally are, and we even have the Carhartts and eco-mugs to prove it. However, recycling has proved a challenge that no number of Ivy League minds or sustainability events can overcome.
Alhough Dartmouth is one of the best institutions of private learning, this fact doesn't preclude its students from being kind of clueless sometimes. When it comes to organizational eating, this place is Lord of the Flies. Here, people throw out metal silverware, steal Food Court trays and can never figure out the tricky Home Plate system of separating forks, spoons and knives from the rest of the refuse you put through that window thing when you're done.
Do we honestly think that this type of population is going to sort their Odwalla, Red Bull and Honest Tea bottles into the requisite plastic, aluminum and glass containers? The system is pretty confusing.
In the room I'm in right now there are no less than four separate containers for different kinds of disposables: one labeled "Trash Only," one labeled "Glass," one labeled "Mixed Paper" and one labeled "Cans/Aluminum/Plastic Bottles." What's more, they all have that little recycling sign on them. My head is spinning already.
Although I, being the good Vermonter that I am, usually will stand perplexed for a few minutes in a hapless attempt at going green via my recyclage, the average Dartmouth student just doesn't want to give up that kind of time. Terrible, but true.
The situation could probably be helped if a few minor modifications were made to the recycling system on campus, but I still don't expect a miracle. For example, you know those gray, plastic recycling tubs that have the lids with the little holes in them? Those holes really need to be enlarged -- a slight increase in their radii, and woosh, seven Diet Coke bottles from your all-nighter would sail right through. As it stands, in your hapless, sleepless state, you attempt to do the right thing by cramming an ill-fitting bottle through the tiny little opening and wind up in tears, screaming "Why?" in Novack at 5 a.m.
Also, I really think people would recycle more if there were more alternatives to trash cans around campus. Seriously, I love the Earth, but when there's no recycling bin in sight, my old copies of The Dartmouth go right into the convenient trash.
Obviously, there is the occasional baby seal hater that will, due to some serious character flaw, throw something in the trash when the recycling bin is readily available, but we all know that's not the norm.
You may think I'm cynical or pessimistic -- a Hummer-driving Debbie Downer. False. We've already established that I believe in going green, but if you can't convince me that this can happen, you're going to be Truckin' for a long ways in your Tevas and tie dye. I wear organic cotton, do yoga and dream of moving to Costa Rica and opening my own surf shop -- I'm on your side, remember?
