Like most of us, I try to be mindful of food that goes to waste. The arugula (芝麻菜) was to make a nice green salad, rounding out a roast chicken dinner. But I ended up working late. Then friends called with a dinner invitation. I stuck the chicken in the freezer. But as days passed, the arugula went bad. Even worse, I had unthinkingly bought way too much; I could have made six salads with what I threw out.

In a world where nearly 800 million people a year go hungry, "food waste goes against the moral grain," as Elizabeth Royte writes in this month's cover story. It's jaw-dropping how much perfectly good food is thrown away — from "ugly" (but quite cat able) vegetables rejected by grocers to large amounts of uneaten dishes thrown into restaurant garbage cans.

Producing food that no one eats wastes the water, fuel, and other resources used to grow it. That makes food waste an environmental problem. In fact, Royte writes," if food waste were a country, it would be the third largest producer of greenhouse gases in the world. "

If that's hard to understand, let's keep it as simple as the arugula at the back of my refrigerator. Mike Curtin sees my arugula story all the time — but for him, it's more like 12 boxes of donated strawberries nearing their last days. Curtin is CEO of DC Central Kitchen in Washington. D.C., which recovers food and turns it into healthy meals. Last year it recovered more than 807, 500 pounds of food by taking donations and collecting blemished (有瑕疵的) produce that otherwise would have rotted infields. And the strawberries? Volunteers will wash, cut, and freeze or dry them for use in meals down the road.

Such methods seem obvious, yet so often we just don't think. "Everyone can play a part in reducing waste, whether by not purchasing more food than necessary in your weekly shopping or by asking restaurants to not include the side dish you won't eat." Curtin says.

Peer (同伴) Assisted Study Sessions (PASS) is a peer-facilitated learning programme available to students enrolled (注册) in most core units of study in our business school.

PASS involves weekly sessions where you work in groups to tackle specially prepared problem sets, based around a unit of study you're enrolled in.

PASS doesn't re-teach or deliver new content. It's an opportunity to deepen your understanding of the key points from lecture materials while you are applying your skills to solve problems.

You work interactively with your peers. As a peer group, you decide what is covered in each session. That way, PASS directly responds to your needs and feedback.

Registration in Term 2 will open at 9 am, 21 September 2022.

Waiting lists

If a session is full, you can register for the waiting list. We will email you if a place becomes available or if a new session is to be held.

When you are placed on a waiting list, we will email you a number which tells you where you are on the list. If you are close to the front of the list, you have a good chance of gaining a place in the programme in the near future.

Deregistering

If you miss two PASS sessions in a row, you will be deregistered and your place will be given to someone on the waiting list. Make sure you fill in the attendance sheet at each session to record your attendance.

You'll be informed by email if you are being deregistered as a result of missing sessions. If you believe you have received the email in error, email the PASS office at passoffice@umbs.edu.

About five weeks ago, I noticed the skin of our pet lizard was growing dusty. It worried me. I reported the strange surface on the skin of the lizard to my husband and children the next morning. Seconds later, our lizard emerged from its tank with its old skin flowing behind it.

I didn't think about it much until a morning last week when I knocked my favorite teapot off the table. It burst into hundreds of pieces. As I swept up the mess, I wondered why we had been breaking so many things over the months.

The destruction started three months ago. It was my husband's birthday. He had just lost his job. The uncertainty was starting to wear on us, so I wanted to do something special.

"Let's make a cake for Dad" I cried.

My kids screamed with joy. We baked, iced and sprinkled for most of the day. Candles on the cake! Balloons on the walls! Flowers on the table!

Two hours before my husband came back home from another job interview, my daughter climbed up to grab a glass vase from a high shelf. It fell and crashed beside the cake. Tiny pieces of glass were everywhere. She sobbed loudly as I threw the cake away. My husband had banana pudding for his birthday.

Three days ago, the light in our living room suddenly went out. After several frustrating hours of unsuccessful attempts to fix it, my husband suggested watching the Michael Jordan documentary series The Last Dance.

The poignancy of Jordan retiring from his beloved basketball to play baseball and what had pushed him to make such a tough decision took me by surprise. As I watched him take off his basketball uniform and replace it with a baseball uniform, I saw him leaving behind the layer that no longer served him, just as our lizard had. Neither of them chose the moment that had transformed them. But they had to live with who they were after everything was different. Just like us. I realized that we have to learn to leave the past behind.

Humans do not shed skin as easily as other animals. The beginning of change is upsetting. The process is tiring. Damage changes us before we are ready. I see our lizard, raw and nearly new.

Jordan said that no matter how it ends, it starts with hope. With our tender, hopeful skin, that is where we begin.