I started teaching this week. If you didn't know, I just graduated and I'm now teaching junior high out in West Jordan. Well, because of my beginning here in the educational world, I looked back on my educational career in the public school system and I found some consistencies.
Every janitor I ever had k-12 was named Ron.
The janitor in elementary school was a balding brunette with a hangover stomach and a funny smile. I don't remember him well -- I was a young child -- but I do remember that his red "Hillview Huskies" shirt had "Ron" stitched across the front of it in that crappy embroidering. I rememeber because I thought Ron was a funny name.
Well, then on to junior high. Ron at the junior high was a different Ron. This Ron was a hippie. He looked stoned all the time and I was scared of him. I thought he was a pedophile. He had a greasy moustache and looked like he didn't know how to shower himself. Yuck. Well, they fired him. And hired another Ron. This Ron was short and graying and grumpy and didn't like kids. I never understood how you could hate kids yet apply for a job with the worst of them at a junior high. It was beyond me.
At last, I came to high school. And lo and behold, another Ron! This Ron was slow-minded and slow-moving. I felt bad for him. He had the same shirt as Elementary Ron, but he was taller and had a hard time talking to people. I'm not sure his bottle of industrial strength vomit cleaner was 100% full, if you know what I'm saying.
How interesting, that so many Rons have been in my life. I was talking to a friend about my Ron situation, and he informed me that the man who is a janitor at the business he owns is named Ron. This Ron is a bow maker by night and is missing his left hand. But, nonetheless, his name is Ron.
At this point, I had to wonder: "Is it a requirement to be named Ron if you are a janitor?"
Today I met the night janitor. A friendly, short chap by the name of -- you guessed it -- Ron.
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