Al

Last week, my pal, Dawn, wrote a slice called “A Constant” about our beloved custodian, Al. Al will retire at the end of this month. Last year, when our school came together to write in March, Al’s Slice of Life was the most-read piece of the entire month. It’s not surprising. He’s loved by all. Dawn’s piece, combined with Al’s own writerly life, gave me an idea. I immediately texted Dawn. “We can invite the staff to write Slices of Life for Al and Jane (our school nurse is also retiring). It can be a gift.” The next day, Dawn sent out the invitation. What better gift than a story? Here’s mine:

This month will not only mark the end of a calendar year, it will also mark the end of a remarkable career for the head custodian at our school. Al has taken care of more than just our school building in the years he has led our custodial team. He has cared for us all, in ways big and small. Al has been a friend and a model for what it means to have pride in your work.

I knew Al before I officially began working at Saugatuck. Way back when, I was a freshly graduated college student, trying to land my first teaching job. I took a summer job teaching special education with a group of students with profound disabilities. Summer school just so happened to be housed at Saugatuck that summer.

When I found myself in a tricky situation, after a student had a medical episode, I was in tears in the hallway, on a mission to find a handwritten permission slip signed by a parent. Al spotted me and told me that the trash had already been emptied. He led me out to the dumpster, where we both got to work digging through the trash trying to find what I was looking for.

I don’t think we ever found the piece of paper, that in the moment felt so important. But I did find support, a kind face, and a friend. It was in those early years of teaching that I learned just how much those three things mattered. In the years since that dumpster incident, I’ve come to find comfort in Al’s quiet presence, his willingness to lend a hand, and his bright smile. I’ve never known Saugatuck without him. Something tells me, the school will lose a bit of its sparkle without him.

Published by Jessica Carey

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I'm a mom of three daughters and a literacy coach in CT. I love to learn and share with others.

9 thoughts on “Al”

  2. So much joy and gratitude here. I love the Slice gift – – very personal, and you’re right – – stories are the best! Al will truly be missed, and what a blessing that he will be able to retire to write more. I’d love to read some of his stories. I’ll bet he’s got quite the unwritten book.

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  4. Clearly, Al is a beloved fixture in your community who will be sorely missed.
    BTW: Melanie and I just recorded our SOLSC podcast episode. We mentioned Al in it. You’ll have to get his email address or number so you can text him once the episode drops on 1/21/24.

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  5. Stories as gifts! That is a gift worth keeping to remember. My favourite part of your slice is the casual observation that you didn’t find the lost paper – what had upset you was not retrieved, but the connection with Al, the support he gave you was the gift that helped the loss. What a lovely idea as gift and a lovely slice for the day!

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  8. Wonderful idea, to give stories as retirement gifts. They will be treasured I am sure. In my writing group we encourage each other to give our writing as gifts, and we are always glad when we do. I recently sent a piece I wrote about my grandfather to my cousin and it started a wonderful sharing of memories, because at 11 years apart in age we had known our grandparents in different ways. My friends have written “the day you were born” and family books for grandchildren. We may not be published or famous but our writing can matter 🙂
    And I just love your dumpster-search story. That warmth and solidarity you felt from Al comes through.

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