Shout Out to the Janitors!

Names are fictional because of privacy.

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When 2024 came around, I wanted to announce my New Year's resolution around January 12th because it's my birthday. Yeah, no. I’m tossing that aside. I can work on that piece later. This essay is the most overdue assignment. I worked as a Custodial Aide for my school over two summers when I was fourteen and fifteen. This was before the path as a future writer was evident. I was just an odd girl who kept to herself. My peers called me weird or smart (leaving out the bullying) and probably never saw me as a fantasy-horror writer. In my state, you can work at fourteen, but there are limitations on what you can and can’t do, such as not working with heavy machinery. The work hours should not exceed 40 hours per week. I was also in a job program to help me get a part-time job over the summer to gain experience. All staff members should be congratulated for their hard work during the school year. This includes teachers, the school board, counselors, students, the principal, and the ones often in the background– the janitors and mechanics.

The teachers share their strengths, pride, and regrets about teaching students. Kids are great, but they can be a floor full of LEGO play materials. I’m still close to some of my teachers to this day. When I worked as a Custodial Aide, my respect for janitors grew. I did many tasks while working there: cleaning classrooms, lockers, libraries, buses, bathrooms, and gymnasiums. We also had to lift books and furniture around (the non-heavy ones). This school had an elementary, middle, and high school built into it. It wasn’t technically small, and the cleaning may feel overwhelming; however, I got into the rhythm, making it less stressful.

Being a janitor requires physical and mental labor. How does a school get cleaned overnight? How does it get cleaned over the summer? Does a genie from the Sims 3 magically clean it? Pretty sure we wouldn’t have jobs. It was janitors cleaning and helping to prepare for the next school year. There are also janitors in other buildings, like hospitals, apartment complexes, law firms, and any place people go to. Their shift times mostly change between school and summertime. There would be a few working on shift during school hours while the rest do their shift around the evening (approximately 3:00 p.m.–11:30 p.m.). In the summer, I go in around 7:00 a.m. and leave around 2:30 in the afternoon. The adults had another hour left to go.

The most physical labor came from cleaning the buses. We cleaned multiple buses per day. We do this after finishing numerous sections of the school. Summertime often gets hot and humid. Thank goodness that my IBS and GERD didn’t make themselves known during this time; otherwise, I would never function. We lifted down windows and emergency doors, only getting the A.C. once the bus was on or in the garage. We were allowed to bring water bottles inside the buses. We had to remove the seat cushions, clean all the muck, secure the cushions back on (you don’t want to get ejected from your seat if the bus driver slams on the brakes), sweep, vacuum, and clean the exterior in the bus garage. A lot of steps. The positives? Our supervisor, Jordan, was not heartless and would bring us sweets and drinks to amp up the mood. The seats also had free coins, so I used them to buy something from the vending machine. The negatives? Rotten food, lost school supplies, menstrual products, sexual protection, and items that shouldn’t be there. Dylan, a co-worker who also worked over two summers at the school, and I found a lighter with fluid inside. We showed it to our boss.

“It takes two to three minutes for a bus to be engulfed in flames,” Jordan said. She was a bus driver as well. Another reason why we do bus drills. The kid who brought the lighter onto the bus was unknown. We didn’t know if the fluid could be just water. There was no way we would investigate it, not even now. It was disposed of.

Bus cleaning was not the most painful part of the experience. It was cleaning the auditorium. It was a tight, dim room with crimson-cushioned chairs and a stage. We only used this during my middle school years or Model UN, a unit where we roleplayed as countries and talked about worldly problems for the whole day. My co-workers and I had to clean the chairs too. There were tight spaces to get into, and rubbing my knuckles against the cushion created blisters and rashes on my hands. My gloves didn’t prevent the sting I felt while using washing chemicals to clean the lockers. I think it was my fault since my co-workers didn't get any blisters or rashes, and my method was trying to get everything wiped down. These blisters and rashes lasted for like a week, much longer than the blood blister I got for walking seven hours daily during this job or the pain from sunburns. It involves a lot of walking and a lot of hand movements. Take the props out, and you will be viewing a mime sorcery.

Of course, we did have tools that we used to our advantage to help swiftly lift up regular school desks. The science desks require two people to lift them. Wade, a middle-aged male employee I met during my second summer, didn’t want me to lift up the science desks because he noticed I didn’t have a lot of muscle and didn’t want me to get hurt. I stuck to cleaning the desks and floors. I was still a contributor. When the next time a science class came around, I lifted them up without being a burden. Ms.No-Muscles got to try her Ms. Endurance.

The mental stakes are involved in janitorial service. One of them is when you have to do repetitive tasks for hours. When my first day during my first summer began with cleaning lockers in the seventh-grade wing, Nigel joked, “If I clean this up every day, I feel like I’ll end up murdering someone.” He was looking at his hands, already shaking a bit. We have thousands of lockers left in this school. Of course, it would drive us a bit crazy. We all snickered and got along pretty well. We were also close in age. That year, my co-workers and I did a productive and superb job. We went by fast and efficiently. It was a fun group. Everyone made it to the last day of work.

The following summer, some co-workers experienced troubles. I have seen one of them, Jack, giving Jordan an attitude. He often turned his head around and was like, “Hell no.” He did his work and was okay talking to us; his compliance with the boss and the employees was difficult. I had never seen my boss ready to scream before. He left around the first two weeks. I noticed my co-workers' attendance lowered as the weeks went by. On the last day, it was just Cathy and I. Cathy was the person who told me about IBS after not feeling well while doing our work. The heat and humidity were bleeding into that school on that day. She also had a consistent attendance. I showed up to work every day, sometimes wondering what would've happened if I was the only kid who was present during the day. Being optimistic, childishly blight, and a solitude-lover, I imagined it as paradise.

What else comes with a lot of cleaning? Making sure we get it done as best as possible! Slack off or do a horrible job, and we had to do it again!

“If you do your work right the first time, you don’t have to do it again,” Wade told Cathy and I. We chilled in the stairwell, waiting for Jack and Christian to finish redoing their section. I remember redoing some of my sections in my first summer because I missed something or there was streaking, which happens if your cleaning rag, towel, or sponge is too wet. Cathy became my partner-in-crime for the rest of my summer job. I adapted a cleaning style– taking my time. This process could be slow; however, I wanted to ensure the lockers were in good condition. The high school lockers were dusty when summer came around. It was hard to check to see if they were clean or not, so I went through them thoroughly.

“Why does Ace have less lockers done?” Cathy asked Jordan. I wasn’t offended by it. I didn't realize I was being slow because I wasn't concentrating on her work. Lockers get checked after we finish cleaning them.

Jordan replied, “She is taking her time, making sure stuff is done right. It’s not a bad thing.”

She’s right– it’s not a bad thing. Around this time, my mother revealed to me that I was autistic. I never remembered being told at the age of three that I had autism. I could also be oblivious to hints (and warnings), such as separate test locations and extended time. I heard about autism but never thought I had it, just some kid with developmental problems. There were subjects where my memories were more clueless than a malfunctioning AI. I had to study and take my time so I could pass. It also goes to everything I do– I take my time and don’t like to rush. Rushing screws up my quality much worse than a game running on 2 FPS.

I had a few brain farts. It was a rainy summer day, around lunchtime, a few weeks into the job. Kathy and I stared at the bus garage across the football field from the exit door. We were unsure that Jordan would pick us up because it was raining. We ended up walking in the rain. At least it wasn’t lightning or thundering.

When we got to the bus garage, we had enough water to grow our own plants. We later learned that Jordan was going to pick us up after lunch by bus. “You guys are braindead,” she said to us. I just laughed.

Another mental challenge was that kids could do stupid things, and you couldn’t let their actions get to you. Summer school still happened while we were there. I shouldn’t let their messes and life make me miserable. Gum on the table? Nasty, but I could scrape it off. Sketches of human counterparts in your locker? An easily-removable biology lesson. That challenge also came into play when teens from my grade (that I knew) went onto the buses at night, partied, and some of them hopped on the roofs. They got caught because it was posted on social media. I wasn't a major social media person at the time, so I didn't see it. They had to do community service. Some part of me got agitated– I cleaned those buses, and I have to do it again? Gladly, not. I wasn’t deeply mad though. It was not the end of the world, and they were placed in our shoes for a day or so. My supervisor did get a chuckle out of what they did. Nowadays, I do too. No buses were damaged, no one got hurt, and no underage drinking. The boss at the bus garage was not pleased, but he dealt with it firmly.

“Next time you do something stupid, don’t get caught,” she told the students doing their community service on a Monday. It was the two girls that I liked in my class. Most classmates I knew during community service were friendly, athletic, and intelligent students. I put my blinders on those whom I was indifferent towards. It was also nice to talk to the girls while helping us clean the air-conditioned library. It gave us more helping hands since it was just Cathy and I. Everyone does bad deeds, including me. A kid might still pull something despite having good parents. The thing is that it shouldn't let it become a repeated or escalating behavior. You also need to be aware not to push and break the laws. And if you get caught, accept punishment.

The best part was that the principal told them not to get caught after they did.

Another mental factor was the teachers and staff. They had their own things too, and it could get frustrating. When we were home, a bus driver came onto her bus and saw what we hadn’t finished. She took pictures of this ‘mess’ and showed it to the boss. Our supervisor responded with, “They’re not done.”

In my second year, the janitors instructed the teachers not to move something on the second floor in the middle school area. Either they were cleaning something, or something was being worked on because some janitors were mechanics. It was moved, and an argument ensued, wondering who the culprit was. Penel, my former neighbor who worked as a janitor, asked my dad to ask me about where we were.

“Were you in the middle school area of the school?” He asked, not accusatory.

I shook my head. “I was working on the buses,” I replied. He took my side.

There were cameras, and this was before the school upgraded its tech and gave every student and staff Chromebooks. Sigh. When I returned to high school (from a college program that I quit), I saw surveillance in the main office that constantly ran, which I had never seen before in middle school. The janitorial staff were mainly middle-aged to older people and rarely on phones. I rarely use my phone during my job. This was also a complication that didn’t need a security camera– there was no fight, no crime, and no violence.

Another critical factor that made my experience memorable was the community. It was small, which made it easier for me to adjust. There was no 'teacher’s lounge' for janitors; they had a break area and offices in the basement, where we went before our work started. The employees I worked with were relaxing and a pleasure to talk to. I met ones who meditatively focused on their work, used humor to make the day worth it, were punctual, or mixed. My nickname was “Twinkle Toes” due to my upbeat persona. I also got closer to Penel. We worked with the adults sometimes and got to know them better. When she still lived by me, we always waved hi when she entered the driveway while I was swinging outside.

I also got to know my main bus driver. I saw him cleaning his windows or checking files at the bus garage. Instead of the regular “thanks” and “see ya” exchange on the bus, we engage in a small conversation. I try to be friendly to my bus drivers, especially as a kid– never thinking I would get on good terms with the one who took me to school during my middle and high school years. I saw him more often than my elementary ones after graduating.

When the workday went by smoothly, we tended to chill in the classroom or a stairwell, sitting down and talking. This was when Jordan was away or when it was too hot. I was an antsy kid who didn’t know when to stop. I was just washing the desk chairs in the technology room in the eighth-grade wing. “Relax,” Amber told me while gesturing for me to sit down. She appeared close to Wade's age and was pretty chill.

“We got a to tie her down to the chair,” Tilly teased. She was an older employee and was loved by all of us. I set my things down on a desk and sat down after that, hopping my legs.

I had seen their serious side, such as cleaning the art room and the bathrooms in the eighth-grade wing. I was doing my business, wiping down a table stained with paint and powdered clay. The art tables were folded, and I observed Tilly wiping them down. Two of my peers behind me were not in the mood to do anything and still had the morning slug. She looked at them and said, “Hey, I’m working on my ass off over here.”

I worked my butt off there and built connections with the janitors and staff, and they wanted to steal me back.

I have changed since this work experience. I had a higher tolerance for cleaning. It doesn’t stress me out as much since I am mostly home alone. I put on my music and get to work. It is therapeutic once I see clean plates, bowls, and silverware. It can also be frustrating if someone else washes the dishes and doesn’t do a thorough job. I washed the dishes and kitchen regularly. I do the bathrooms occasionally, mostly when guests are coming over. I cleaned my room more efficiently than just picking stuff off the floor; I washed the sheets of my bunk bed, organized my shelf and desk, swept, and put things back. My room stayed clean for longer than in years past. My mother appreciates this when she comes home from work, showing my responsibility that I can manage the interior of the home.

Over the years, I finally have the time to reflect and connect on how a seasonal cleaning job became a character arc for my life. Like a writer, it’s best to give credit when it’s due. For the janitors out there, you are important in maintaining a clean atmosphere inside a building. Pushing through what you guys do daily takes physical and mental guts. We get through it. I thank you for preparing the school for the year and cleaning it out when we leave.