Letters to the Editor | July 18, 2025

Three cheers for Adam Bailey, who in his recent op-ed examines the city’s waste management system and finds it to be neither financially nor environmentally sustainable. In fact, it appears that Mayor Cherelle L. Parker’s “green and clean” initiative is only surface deep. Once the trash is gone, and she can see some green, she really doesn’t care what happens to that trash, what the cost is, and what it does to the environment.

“About 47% of the materials the city collects are compostable,” writes Bailey, “yet no citywide program exists to divert that material from the waste stream.” How revolutionary it would be if that trash could be guided to local composting companies who would turn it into sweet-smelling compost that would enrich the soil in our local parks, urban gardens, and farming communities. How revolutionary it would be if we had a trash collectors’ strike without those nasty smells from the garbage.

New York has made it illegal not to compost, and, while it has postponed monetary fines to educate the public about how best to compost, sanitation officials there recently collected a record 3.8 million pounds of compost in one week. In the building where I live, residents deposit their food scraps almost 24/7, and report that composting has lowered the amount and weight of trash left for the trash chute. What does clean and green really mean to Parker?

Jean Haskell, Philadelphia, [email protected]

The end of the workers’ strike is reported as a win for the city, but it’s really a loss for all of us. Last month, our elected leaders gave tax breaks to big corporations and billionaires. The rest of us will face cuts in essential services, and our workers still don’t have a living wage. The new contract with the city didn’t fix that. Many workers will still have to rely on SNAP to put food on the table, even when working full time. Folks need to know how we got here. In June, in the middle of contract negotiations, City Council voted to eliminate the Business Income and Receipts Tax. This reckless choice will cost the city $102 million a year by 2030. Imagine the consequences this will have for our city. We must hold our leaders accountable.

The Rev. Dr. Gregory J. Edwards, executive director, POWER Interfaith

David Hardy, president of Girard College, a private boarding K-12 school in Philadelphia, wrote in an op-ed that more funding won’t help failing Pennsylvania schools. He writes: “But money isn’t the issue. Pennsylvania spends about $22,000 per student.” The keyword is about, which is another way to say “on average.” The problem with an average is that it erases disparities. The Commonwealth Court declared that the state school funding formula was unconstitutional. According to U.S. News and World Report, per-pupil spending in Philadelphia is around $15,000, while in Radnor, an affluent suburb, it is nearly $24,000. That’s a difference of almost $10,000, where students coming from wealthier households are going to the schools with more funding. We don’t need credits to send more children to private schools; we need a fair funding formula where Radnor isn’t the exception, it is the rule. But please, tell us about how more funding won’t help. I’d like to see Girard College run on $15,000 per pupil. Then, maybe Hardy will gain insights into what Philadelphia schools are facing.

Jennifer Rock, Philadelphia

David Hardy, president of Girard College, wrote an excellent op-ed on why throwing more money at a failing public school system will not solve the problem of why children, largely in Philly, don’t have reading or math skills appropriate to their grade level. He didn’t address why the Catholic schools (and many charter schools) are able to educate kids of all races with only a fraction of the per-child cost. It’s because the Catholic schools have one thing the city public schools lack: discipline. One violent or disruptive child could prevent the entire class from learning. The Inquirer has previously reported that city high school kids were cutting classes or wandering the hallways instead of being in the classrooms. Yet, despite these reports, nothing is done.

I suggest that The Inquirer request the incident reports from all the city high schools for the last year or so. I reviewed them many years ago, and was appalled at the level of violence taking place in and around the public schools — most notably the high schools. Aggravated assaults against both students and teachers, arson, robberies, thefts, etc., made some schools very dangerous places. No child is going to learn when he or she doesn’t feel safe. Unless this seemingly intractable problem is addressed, all the money politicians continually throw at the public schools will be wasted.

Charles Brennan, Philadelphia

Wherever my mother traveled, if she saw grass, she looked for a four-leaf clover. From my earliest years, I realized her search was symbolic. What she yearned for was a different life, a different husband, freedom. That was not to be, but she kept on looking for hope, for magic. She died more than 15 years ago after a valiant battle with cancer. Her last words to me were, “To be continued.” The source of my mother’s vicious adversary was never medically found, but to me, it was her broken heart. As I stood at her grave, I promised I would find a four-leaf clover and bring it to her.

My mother died a few days before a long-scheduled trip, but I felt compelled not to cancel. In profound mourning, I endured events feeling like I was not really there, only watching myself. But one morning, I spotted a four-leaf clover among the weeds. As a caretaker haphazardly approached, pushing his lawn mower, I asked if I could take the clover home with me, very briefly explaining why. At lunch, one of our hosts asked me to pass the clover to her, assuring its “safe return to me.” As days passed, my low-key requests for this promised return were ignored.

When Jewish family members visit the grave of one beloved, we note our visit by leaving a small stone at the graveside. My plan was to place the clover beneath a stone, where it could remain until it was no more. The next time I visited my mother’s grave, as I left the stone, I shared the story of the missing clover and said I would keep on looking. Inside of me, I felt the words — spoken by my mother once again — to be continued. Life has taught me everything is … until or unless, mercifully, some things are not.

SaraKay Smullens, Philadelphia

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