Ever since I got to Berlin, I’ve been hyper-aware of my waste habits. From my sit spot, I can see the expansive garbage disposal system in my courtyard: surrounded by trees and blooming greenery, an array of color-coded, descriptively labeled trash bins lies at the center of the yard. Back home in the United States, I got used to lowest-common-denominator approaches to waste management. Single stream, comingled recycling was a norm. At the school where I taught for the past few years, a Hebrew school in Natick, waste separation was encouraged but not strictly enforced. As long as the garbage made it into the appropriate bin, there were no significant consequences for errors or oversights. In Berlin, I quickly learned that harsh consequences await for those who dare to improperly dispose of their trash. The city takes waste management seriously, and there is a zero-tolerance policy for violations. This became evident to me when I heard from my neighbor that she had been fined for placing a piece of bag with plastic waste in the paper recycling bin. The meticulous separation of recyclables and organic waste enables the city to divert a significant portion of its waste from landfills, thus conserving resources and mitigating environmental harm. Living here has led me to consider whether a Laissez-faire approach to waste management is indeed ideal, or if perhaps I can emulate the same stringency I’ve experienced in Berlin once I return to the United States. I’d like to hope that this increased consciousness of my waste’s impact, and the necessity of my action in organizing waste to ensure it remains out of a landfill will be a long-lasting remnant of my time abroad.