My Plastic Confession

March 24, 2015

My confession:

It is such an arduous beginning to the day, waking up in a state of disorientation to the alarm chiming from my smartphone.  The realization of the morning that I face and my responsibilities is all that compels me out of bed and to my feet.  And even after all of the rushing around, the shower, the pungent smell of my deodorant, the blood trickling down my neck from a bad shave, and the rampant and invariably frustrating ritual of tying my tie (...again, and again), I still feel like going back to sleep.  

As I walk out the door, the thought that permeates my consciousness is that of coffee, the nectar of the beans, my escape from the doldrums of monotonous mornings, my cheap ticket to perceiving reality in a better frame of mind.  

I continue down the soi towards work, just like every day.  I have ulterior motives other than just getting to my destination this morning, however.  I study the knife on the table by the lady selling chicken, then pause for a few moments. Then I stalk down the market, observing the unsuspecting people as they engage in their daily routines.  I spot the coffee stand, and slowly approach it.  I look behind my shoulder both ways to ensure that there is no one looking.  I am hesitant, embarrassed, maybe even a little nervous. I slowly approach it. Slowly, because I know that my students and I are studying plastic, so I try my best to resist, but I tell myself that sometimes, only baby steps are possible.  So I do the deed.  I order my iced coffee, served in a plastic cup, because I feel myself itching my skin for it like a heroine addict on methadone.  I refuse the bag that was offered, and try to justify my purchase by thinking that instead of adding a plastic cup to the world, I prevented one plastic bag from choking a sea turtle or leaking BPA into a school of fish.  

I must have really wanted that coffee, because after that first sip, my guilt gave way to pleasure as the taste hit my tongue and the caffeine jolt stimulated my brain.

Sometimes, we pay for convenience, but forget the inconveniences that it causes downstream of what we thoughtlessly acquire, of what we desire.  Yes, I wanted that coffee.  

But did I need it?  

To what extent must we avoid plastic? Sometimes, it is a necessary evil.  Should we draw the line behind IV and AB negative blood bags, prosthetic legs and lighter and more fuel efficient cars?  Plastic has its uses that cannot be substituted with other materials. It has a foothold in the important, but unfortunately, it also is ubiquitous in the the unnecessary and the frivolous because it is so inexpensive and easy to manufacture.  

So what is our duty when it comes to plastic, or reducing our dependence on it?  Does it mean ceasing to store blood for hemophiliacs or those in need of transfusions, driving old steel framed, fuel inefficient cars, or banning plastic child seats to keep kids safe in cars, and hardhats for construction workers?  
Being plastic conscious is a start; reducing is step one, and eliminating the unnecessary plastic is step two.  I am still on step one, as you might have already realized.

As I walked into the school with my plastic cup full of iced coffee and feeling like a hypocrite, I could at least take some solace in the thought that I am conscious of the plastic that I use.  Entering TCIS, I began devising the scenarios that I would tell my students after I am confronted.  I would say that I refused the bag, using less plastic than the uninformed consumer.  Or, that the coffee will spur my ability to teach them of the evils of plastic as the caffeine promotes higher brain function and diminishes my sleepiness.  “This cup of coffee will allow for a longer term and much more impactful good because the coffee will make me a more effective teacher”, I would tell them.  “This cup represents the millions that you, your children, and your grandchildren will not use that would otherwise wind up in landfills or the ocean because of what you will learn in class”, I would say, and sip my coffee as they all roll their eyes at me.  

Yes, I am human, and I love my coffee.  This morning, I am not proud of myself.  And now, as I finish this blog, I realize that my coffee is gone.  What should I do with this plastic cup?  

--David Jolly, environmental science teacher and hypocrite