Written by Mary Schneider, Operation TRAP’s Spring 2025 UF Undergraduate Gulf Scholar

Thoughts from Operation TRAP’s UF Undergraduate Gulf Scholar: Mary Schneider

During my internship, my primary role was cleaning out storm drain traps—an experience that, while physically demanding, dirty, and strange, became an unexpectedly reflective and rewarding task.

Each day began with the simple but labor-intensive task of removing the heavy traps from the drains. I would lean in, lift them out, and then begin the slow process of sorting through their contents. Using tweezers, I carefully sifted through layers of damp leaves, dirt, and debris, searching for small pieces of plastic. At first, it felt like meticulous work for minimal results. But over time, the routine revealed itself to be something more meaningful.

There is a quiet peace in this kind of labor—the kind that comes from focusing entirely on a task and knowing that your efforts are in service of something larger than yourself. Cleaning storm drains is not glamorous work, but it is essential. These hidden systems play a vital role in protecting our waterways from pollution, and by helping to maintain them, I felt a direct connection to the health of the community and the environment.

One of the most thought-provoking aspects of the project was the process of trash sorting. As we cataloged the waste collected from the traps, we paid particular attention to brand names and packaging materials. It was startling to see how many familiar products appeared again and again—fast food wrappers, snack packaging, plastic bottle caps. These weren’t just anonymous pieces of litter; they were reflections of everyday habits, including my own.

What I’ve learned during my internship

This process prompted me to think more critically about consumption and waste—about the foods I eat, the things I buy, and where those items end up after I’m done with them. The brands I encountered in the storm drains were the same ones in my own pantry. That realization was humbling and, frankly, a little unsettling. It made the environmental impact of plastic pollution feel much more immediate and personal.

I also came to understand Pasco County and Cedar Key in a new way—not through its landmarks or its streets, but through its refuse. There is something revealing about what gets left behind. You begin to notice patterns, see traces of community life, and appreciate the complexity of the systems that keep public spaces functioning.

This internship taught me a great deal about environmental responsibility, but it also gave me a deeper appreciation for the value of unseen labor—the kind of work that often goes unnoticed, yet has a profound impact. There is dignity in doing something small that contributes to something much bigger. In the slow, careful sorting of debris from storm drains, I found a unique perspective, and a quiet kind of fulfillment I didn’t expect.

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