Why George should have been cast in "Good Will Hunting" or How to become friends with your custodian even when he's terrifying

To lead a happy, carefree life of teaching, one must IMMEDIATELY get on the good side of the custodial staff. And believe me...I've tried. But George continues to elude me...staunchly refusing to fall for my winning ways. He's a bit intimidating. Equal parts Gandalf the Grey, Ted Kacznski, and a Santa who has been through a pretty rough Christmas, George does not suffer small-talk. And I am the Queen of Small-Talk!

But there is something magical about George. Who wouldn't adore a man who adorns his cleaning cart each year with a hood ornament? One year, I'd tossed the ratty old Halloween crow that I'd used for my Edgar Allen Poe unit away. The next day...it had been refurbished and was guiding George's cart like a rancid replica of Rudolph. This year, I had to tragically retire my sling-shot pig because its rubber-band arms dry-rotted. Again, George swooped in to save the day. Outfitted with a little cape, the pig has been cast in a new role.

See what I mean? George has a fun, whimsical side! And while he does his best to avoid me, he is inevitably drawn into my little life dramas. He's had to comfort me when it turned out that I was an utter failure as a baby chick mom. He made himself intimidatingly present when a student's dad dropped by my classroom, way after teaching hours. Before the door even had time to close behind the parent, George was propping it open with a door stop. "I'm cleaning right across the hall," he said gruffly. My uninvited guest was gone in mere minutes. I'd even catch George glancing out the window when I'd leave after dark to make sure I got to my truck alright. "I was just hoping that if there was a hit-and-run in the parking lot, I'd get to witness it," George told me. He's such a sweetheart.

 This morning I walked into my classroom and went about my normal routine until I noticed that I'd forgotten to fill out my "Morning Work" agenda last night. Fortunately, George stepped in to help me out. My 4th graders stared, horrified at the "Good Will Hunting"-style equation written out for them. "George must have a lot of confidence in your math skills," I laughed. And then, to my amazement, dry erase boards were whipped out and students began trying to solve the problem. I solved it on a calculator and let each mathematician know if their solution was correct or not. Two students successfully cracked George's code!

Later, when some 7th and 8th grade students popped in for a visit, they, too, noticed the challenging (Some would say smart-a$$) math problem on the board. "That's not the correct answer," I was told, "because they didn't follow the order of operations." I sighed. I could have cared less about the order of operations because I was just tickled that I had eager students who wanted to solve George's crazy equation. But never mind...here we go again. My older scholars also got busy calculating and soon produced the "correct" answer.

So even when he acts like he's not interesting in building fun friendships with those around him, George cannot help himself. He is just so utterly lovable and kind. My yard-sale goal this summer is to locate a Gandalf the Grey figurine for his cleaning cart next year.