New Year, Same Trash: Solving UH Student Housing's Bulky Waste Issue

Bulky waste left by outgoing tenants of RISE in the summer of 2025, with items ranging from desks, lamps, fridges and more Courtesy of Lauryn Johnson

Late July, the balcony of Walter Dodds Jr. RISE Center looked more like a thrift store graveyard than a place to stargaze. From above, I spotted the heap: a generic Target mirror, to the left a lamp, a glance to the right a chair, and a laundry hamper teetering on top. All piled up, waiting for the garbage truck. I couldn’t help but think, “I needed this dumpster gold mine when I first moved in last year.”

Instantly, the pattern revealed itself. At the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa (UHM), students scurry like ants every August and May – move in, move out, and move on; Dole Street clogs with cars, parents unload carts stacked with storage bins, and new dorm residents arrive with their organizers, mattress toppers, hangers. But when the school year ends, the cycle lives on. A ritual of shop, use, and drop.

The move-out piles don’t just vanish. They accumulate, spill over, and remind us of our temporary approach to consumerism. UHM has public resources like Food Vault Hawaiʻi, but when it comes to furniture, decorations, and appliances, most items end up trashed.

“During the academic year, we have recycling bins in each of the building's lobbies for student use. We also have periodic donation drives during the year. These are communicated to residents via email and signage posted within the building and at the collection site,” David Akana, Interim Director of Student Housing Services at UHM, explained.

Even with these programs, the mountains of abandoned goods suggest that awareness and accessibility remain a problem. Posters in lobbies and mass emails don’t necessarily reach students in the chaos of finals week, when stress and deadlines take precedence over sustainability.

Even if students do stay up to date with their email, dumpster space is limited by off-campus individuals who illegally dump their large garbage in UH dumpsters.

Viviana Mugavero, a sophomore who lived in Hale Laulima, mentioned students often miss those efforts because of indifferent communication.

“Campus Center is where everyone passes through. If donation drives had pop-ups or gave out small keepsakes, people would actually notice,” Mugavero said.

Mugavero’s idea highlights a key gap: visibility. It’s less about students not caring, and more about students not being reached where they already are.

Student Housing partnered with Goodwill Hawaiʻi in May during finals, but only for residents in UH-managed dorms. That leaves out thousands of students in privately operated housing like Hale Mahana or RISE.

This exclusivity creates a two-tiered system: students in traditional dorms have access to donation resources, while those in private apartments are effectively pushed toward the dumpster. Ironically, these off-campus housing complexes often generate the largest items: couches, desks, and appliances, which are precisely the materials worth salvaging.

“[Donation collection] was definitely important to have, buildings that don’t have it will throw usable items away,” Mugavero reflected.

UH’s Office of Sustainability confirmed they don’t track data on abandoned move-out items at the moment. The lack of information makes it harder to understand the true scale of the waste problem, but such a gap in oversight highlights where solutions could take root.

This problem wasn’t born yesterday. Almost a decade ago, back in 2017, Student Housing Services diverted more than 14,000 pounds of clothing and goods from the landfill during spring semester move-out by partnering with groups like the Boys and Girls Club and the Kidney Foundation, according to UH News.

Since then, campus housing has evolved; refrigerators and microwaves are now provided in most dorms.What has not changed is the cycle of excess. Today’s piles look different, but they still spill out each May. And now, with more students living in private residences the waste stretches beyond UH-managed dorms, where donation programs are less consistent.

This detail illuminates the ripple effect of UH’s limited infrastructure. When formal systems don’t suffice, informal systems take over.

However, campus partnerships with organizations like Re-use Hawaiʻi, a nonprofit focused on waste reduction, have merit. This would offset the UHM waste stream and give students access to affordable, second-hand items; a “Retail Vault” to match the beloved Food Vault.

“Students would feel supported during the stress of moving out by knowing there’s a designated place to drop off furniture and reusable materials. UHM would be leading a sustainability campaign that helps students manage their belongings responsibly,” Renee Thorp, their Communications and Marketing Manager, stated.

UH leadership has begun to discuss the idea. Akana even reached out to Miles Topping, Director of Energy Management at UH’s Office of Sustainability, who explained that waste and donation projects face the same financial pressures as the university’s larger energy plan. With limited resources, new initiatives often depend on legislative support or outside partnerships.

The challenge, Topping said, is balancing ambitious sustainability goals with the reality of budget constraints. Partnering with groups like Re-use Hawai‘i could provide a pathway forward. Past and ongoing projects, like exploring how to salvage or repurpose old campus portables rather than demolish them show that re-use models can work, but only when UH commits to the logistics of collaboration with outside organizations.

For instance, last year Bottles4College worked with the UH facilities and sustainability department, along with the Hawai‘i Deposit Beverage Container Program (HI-5) to install recycle bins on four floors at Frear Hall as a small-scale trial for a larger, more lucrative can collection goal on campus.

Topping also acknowledged that the idea of a permanent donation site has surfaced in campus discussions amongst shifting leadership. But, questions of management, security, and operating hours remain unresolved. Without clear oversight and funding, such a site would be difficult to sustain year-round, even if student demand is obvious.

Other universities have filled in the blanks. The University of Washington’s “SCRAM” (Student Clean-Up, Recycle, and Move-Out) program funnels reusable goods away from dumpsters and into circulation. UW’s commitment to zero-waste isn’t generic – it’s structural, and it works. UH deserves the same.

There are moments at UHM when the glass ceiling shatters, like the Student Sustainability Councils clothing swap held at campus center in January of this year. Events like this prompt students campus wide to give where they have taken too much and to take where there's an excess in material production.

The Recycling branch at UW demonstrates how universities can systematically channel student turnover into sustainable practices. UH could adapt the model to local needs, but the message is clear: the waste cycle is solvable when treated as a structural, not seasonal, issue.

Every August, students arrive ready to start fresh. But too often, each fresh start leaves behind a trail of furniture, possessions, and wasted resources. We cannot continue to ignore this deadly, destructive cycle. Consumerism may feel like second nature, but its environmental impact lingers. It’s time UH gave students the tools to start the year without trashing the planet or their pockets.