On a recent spring afternoon on my way out of the building, I glanced out the glass paned door to the senior courtyard and saw a fellow member of the class of 2002 picking up our classmates’ leftover lunches. This was not occasional litter. Gatorade bottles, greasy napkins and half-pint milk cartons were strewn all over our little green refuge, leaving no room to walk, let alone lay down to bask in the sun of the approaching summer. It was too much. I went out to help. 

My fellow senior looked surprised when I offered my assistance, but of course didn’t object. The sooner we could get the job done, the better. I began to pick up the refuse. Most appreciated were the ketchup and mayonnaise-saturated napkins. Thanks, guys. After a minute or so, another student came out, observed for a minute and then chided "come on, do you know how long it took us to get it like this?" We were drawing attention now. A third girl popped her head out of the door and asked, "why do you guys have to clean this up?" Good question.

I’m not trying to be anybody’s mother here. My bedroom floor is as littered with random CD’s, school papers and clothing as anybody else’s. It’s organized clutter and I’m quite fond of it. The deal is, though, that my mess is a private mess. It doesn’t belong to the senior class, and neither should yours. This seems a little basic, sure, but so does picking up your trash right after you finish eating. A lot of seniors have complained that we don’t have enough comfortable spaces to eat, study and relax. This being true, let’s not mess up what little we do have for those of us whose definition of "comfortable and relaxing" is not " a garbage heap." Remember the words uttered by a former school security official. Friends don’t let friends leave trash. Let’s clean up, clear some space and soak in the rays of the new summer sun.