Recycling and Reusing for a Better Tomorrow

The best thing about Earth isn’t something I can hold. It’s something I feel. It’s when my feet sink into the sand and the ocean breeze hits my face. It’s the rhythm of waves echoing in my ears and the sun wrapping me in its warmth. My favorite thing about this planet is the coastlines, their calm, their beauty, their role as a barrier and a lifeline. But those coasts are disappearing, and I’m not just watching it happen. Growing up in Massachusetts, I’ve always lived close enough to the ocean to feel its pulse in my daily life. But I’ve also seen that pulse weaken. Plastic is tangled in seaweed. Discolored water after heavy rains. Storms are getting stronger, tides reaching farther, and erosion stealing inches of shore every year. For me, environmentalism isn’t abstract, it’s a matter of protecting the places that raised me. My work began locally. I volunteered with Green Lynn, a city-led initiative that cleaned up parks and waterfronts. Every weekend, I collected litter, logged data on waste types, and educated younger kids about plastic pollution. I was part of a campaign that successfully pushed for more recycling bins along our beaches and nature trails. Later, I joined a student coalition that petitioned for our school to stop using Styrofoam in the cafeteria. It worked. We transitioned to biodegradable trays by the end of the year. Then I took things further. I helped design a climate education workshop for middle schoolers through our city’s youth commission. We broke down big concepts like carbon footprints into everyday choices, bike rides over car rides, plant-based meals, and reusable bottles. Watching kids teach their families what they learned was the most rewarding ripple effect. It proved that change starts when people feel like they have the tools. As I plan to study biology and environmental science in college, I carry these lessons with me. I’ve learned that science isn’t just found in textbooks; it’s on the ground, in neighborhoods, in policy changes, and in community efforts. My ultimate goal is to develop climate adaptation strategies for vulnerable coastal communities, especially in places like the Dominican Republic, where my family is from. Many of those communities face climate threats with fewer resources, less infrastructure, and little international attention. I want to be part of the solution that makes their future more livable. I’ve also realized that protecting my favorite part of the planet means more than picking up trash. It means fighting for environmental justice. The beach doesn’t feel like home if the families that made it vibrant can no longer afford to live nearby due to climate gentrification. That’s why I hope to research ways environmental policy intersects with social equity and economic development. The coastline is where I feel most alive, and where I first understood the planet’s fragility. But it’s also where I learned that small actions, when done consistently and collectively, can hold back tides of destruction. Whether I’m organizing a cleanup, mentoring younger students, or planning to develop sustainable solutions in the future, I’m committed to keeping those coasts alive, for me, for my community, and for generations to come.