EDUCATION
Middle School Students Tell
LAUSD: No More Styrofoam!
• ALISSA WALKER
A writer, a gelato-eater and a walker in LA. Follow her at @gelatobaby
It wasn't until they dissected an albatross stomach that Ann
Holtzinger's sixth-grade students at Thomas Starr King Middle
School truly understood what was happening with the trash they were
throwing away every day at lunch. "We found bottle caps," a student
named Sook says. "We learned not to litter plastic because fish might
eat it. Once we eat it, we get the chemicals in our bodies." That is just
one of the reasons the sixth grader is a vegetarian, she informs me.
The lesson in ocean-bound plastic was a transformative moment for
most of the class at the Los Angeles school. "Everyone's concerned
about how it's affecting animals like seagulls and sea animals,"
Marisol tells me. "We want to show how you can make a difference by
volunteering or doing service." In their case, making a difference
meant collecting the used Styrofoam trays from their cafeteria and
stringing them up into 30-foot art installation in the center of campus
that they hoped would get their school's—and their district's—
attention.
The project is part of the curriculum at Farm King, the school's
garden, where Holtzinger's students go every Tuesday for duties like
harvesting cavolo nero kale and calculating the number of worms in a
square foot of soil. Volunteer and garden manager Brian Miller, who
runs a photography company when he's not elbow deep in compost,
came up with the concept because he wanted to give ecology studies
some real-world relevancy. "These students will be putting lessons
into direct action," he says.
After carrying their trash around for a week, the students visited the
Burbank Recycling Center, where they uncovered a horrific truth
about one of the most prevalent materials in their school: Styrofoam.
"They don't even recycle it!" a group of students answer in unison
when I ask what's so bad about it. "They don't collect it because it
turns into little bits," says Miya.
The students began camping out at the recycle bins after lunch to
intercept the Styrofoam trays, which they cleaned, brought to the
garden, and began stringing onto a rope, like a giant white necklace.
The garden itself is positioned in the center of the school, so their
highly-visible, large-scale craft project has been noticed by all
students (and teachers) as they change classes. But to reinforce their
message, the children spent weeks designing and painting signs to
encourage their fellow 2,000 students to monitor their own waste.
"Plastic is not fantastic!" one of the signs scolds.
Over the weeks, the Styrofoam creature grew, soon snaking through
the beds of broccoli and sweet peas that kids eat eagerly right off the
vines. And last Tuesday (aided by adults), the students looped a rope
over one of the tallest branches of the giant acacia tree that shades
part of the garden and hoisted it 30 feet into the air. As it hung
between the leaves like an awkward wind chime, the students gawked
at their creation.
The final count for the tower is a jaw-dropping 1,260 trays, which,
Miller reminds the students, is less than the 1,400 trays that are
thrown away at the school each day. For perspective, LAUSD operates
about 730 schools.
But the triumphant tower wasn't all that Miller had planned for the
students. As they stood in a circle, snapping photos of their styrocreation with their own cell phones, he presented them with another
gift: brightly colored, reusable plastic trays. "How many of you would
use this instead of a Styrofoam tray?" he asked. Their eyes lit up and
their hands shot into the air. "Yeah!" they cheered. "Me!" Believe it:
sixth graders, jumping up and down, shrieking with enthusiasm over
a reusable lunch tray. You would have thought it was autographed by
Justin Bieber.
It's not a perfect tray, Miller acknowledged, in that it's still plastic.
But it would make this class leaders within the school, allowing them
to tell the story to their fellow students about why they don't use
Styrofoam trays. "It's their own choice," he said. "They have the
experience and knowledge now, and we empowered them to make a
change."