PITTSBURGH — As college dorms empty for summer, and students quibble with their winded parents over what will fit in the family car for the ride home, weighty questions inevitably arise:
"Seriously, what would you possibly do with a full-body hot dog suit?"
"Do you really need the dinosaur mask?"
Not to mention the microwaves, mirrors, mini-fridges, lamps, and a zillion other objects large and small, from new clothing and shoes with price tags still attached to baby pools — good, perhaps, for a dorm room swim or for keeping on ice certain ... ahem ... beverages.
At the University of Pittsburgh, Erika Ninos and her colleagues know how the argument ends. In fact, they could give a dissertation on what these left-behind items say each year about campus decorating and lifestyle trends.
Years ago, this refuse — tons worth — would be destined for landfills. But Pitt, like other colleges and universities, now employs an elaborate student and staff system to divert much of it for resale at greatly reduced prices, or even for free, to campus peers unable to pay full price and to the general community.
Schools are responding to a generation arriving on campuses more attuned to sustainability and recycling objects once routinely tossed.
"They understand the social justice components of this," said Ninos, sustainability coordinator with Pitt's Division of Students Affairs. "They understand the climate components of this."
Beyond environmental good and helping those less well-off, the campaign dubbed "Clutter for a Cause" gives work experience in inventory management and even operating a pallet jack to student volunteers at Pitt, many of whom eventually want to work in the area of sustainability, anyway, officials said.
Plus, it eases the load on crews across Pitt's sprawling Oakland campus who must clean up after nearly 8,000 students turning in their room keys in approximately 20 buildings, many of them high-rises.
"If they leave it in their room, it's considered unclaimed property or lost property. And then it has to get bagged and tagged," said Nick Goodfellow, sustainability coordinator with Pitt's Office of Business, Hospitality and Auxiliary Services. "There are laws covering unclaimed property. One of our staff has to call the students and say, 'Did you leave this? Do you want to come pick it up?'
"A big part of this is encouraging them to bring their stuff down."
It would seem they get the message, judging from nearly 11 tons dropped off this spring.
The haul included:
— Non-perishable food and hygiene items donated to Community Human Services and Pitt Pantry (2,825 pounds);
— Dorm essentials saved in trailers (mirrors, lamps, kitchen items, coffee pots, microwaves, etc. (7,150 pounds);
— 42 mini-fridges (1,974 pounds)
— Textile recycling (bedding, towels, clothing, etc. (8,224 pounds);
— University of Thriftsburgh Textiles (clothing, shoes, accessories for resale (1,516 pounds)
Nationwide, colleges and universities employ various methods to discourage waste.
At Penn State University, an annual "Trash to Treasure" event at Beaver Stadium gave shoppers access for a nominal fee to bags full of belongings benefiting United Way of Centre County. It was suspended during the coronavirus pandemic and has been replaced by a new effort with Goodwill.
Even on campuses with less tonnage, crews make surprising finds.
"Several basketball players left behind pairs of sneakers, still in their boxes," said Robert Morris University spokesman Jonathan Potts, recalling one such discovery years ago.
State-owed Pennsylvania universities are working to reduce waste, too, including California University of Pennsylvania.
"It means a lot that students, even in high-stress times, are willing to give back," said Diane Hasbrouck, Cal U associate director of student development.
Even if some items are not suitable for donation, she said, "They did it with good intentions."
Some discoveries made by cleanup crews are for the ages.
Many years ago, a facilities worker at Carnegie Mellon University came face to face with a coffin. An art student had decided that the soft-lined pine box would be a nice alternative to his university-issued bed.
Pitt's "Clutter for a Cause" program debuted in 2016. Each year, it draws upon student volunteers and staff from various university departments, including student affairs and hospitality, surplus property and Pitt police, whose yearly effort to gather unused, nonperishable food items predated the program.
Planning for spring begins in the fall. This year, the donations kicked off Wednesday of final exam week. Large drop-off locations were set up in areas including Schenley Quad, as well as satellite locations.
On a recent weekday, items cleaned and in good working condition filled three 53-foot trailers in the East End, while other articles including clothing and textiles were staged elsewhere for resale, reuse and donation.
"People sometimes give us things that we can't take," Goodfellow, one of the sustainability coordinators, said. "We can't resell or clean upholstered furniture, rugs, as well as mattress toppers. Erika has searched high and low all over the state, all over the country, for a place to recycle them. It's just not possible."
But if there is a potential use for the belongings, from books to bracelets, they find it.
The donations themselves are a study of what's in and out, fashion-wise.
"A couple years ago, we were getting a lot of shag rugs, really brightly colored shag rugs. This year, there were more muted tones, right for coming out of the pandemic. People want to relax and feel like they're in a spa even in their dorm room," Ninos, another of the sustainability coordinators, said. "I actually enjoy that part of it."
What do the items assembled in mass, from plates to rugs, look like? Goodfellow likened it to walking through a retail store.
"Think Target," he said.
There are granola bars, sometimes jostled and pulverized to the point where they are just granola. And stuffed animals, often oversized bears.
"So many stuffed animals," Ninos said. "It's shocking how many."
And, of course, convenience food is big item, especially that collegiate staple ramen.
"The hotdog suit was a full-size/full-body replica of a dog in a bun with catsup and mustard. It had a hood — so the only visible part of your body was your face," Ninos said.
"We had a staff member who helped us sort all the rest of the textiles wearing it the entire time," she said.
"He's a riot," she added.
"We get some strange things, but my favorite was a few years ago. We kept getting baby pools donated," Ninos said.
One looked like a doughnut with sprinkles.
Other left-behind items, from a T. rex mask to a Hofbrauhaus Pittsburgh server uniform, have potential for reuse as Halloween getups.
Many donations end up at Thriftsburgh, a student-run outlet on the Oakland campus where used items are resold at sharply reduced prices. The modest storefront is part of the O'Hara Student Center and holds events including a rummage sale as new students arrive on campus in August.
Nicole Marchese,19, of Buffalo, New York, a student employee at Thriftsburgh and rising junior who is a marketing major also studying sustainability, recently walked among the cut-rate jewelry, shoes and clothing. Signs on the walls have environmental reminders, such as: "The average T-shirt requires 700 gallons of water during manufacturing."
She pointed to the store's popularity, with bargains such as microwaves priced between $10-$14, and mini-fridges, $20 or $25 this year, officials said.
The university also works with groups including Pitt Pantry, the Oakland Planning and Development Corp. and Goodwill.
Even students passionate about reuse, Ninos said, can get sidetracked during finals and may need a reminder.
"If you've got a chem final, thinking about where you're taking your microwave isn't the first thing on your mind," she said.
