A group of students separates to make way for the large green 4-wheel Gator that has come to a squealing stop to avoid hitting them.  As it proceeds through the crowd, the man driving becomes clear.  He is neither in the driver’s seat, nor the passenger’s seat but lounges in some middle range with one foot dangling out of the vehicle, dragging ambivalently along with the Gator’s progress.  His gaze seems focused on nothing in particular as he stares somberly over the one hand he is using to steer.  Blond chest hair pokes out from behind  his green unbuttoned janitorial uniform.  He looks comfortable at Tam, like it’s his natural environment, and that’s probably because Garrett Eckelhoff started working here a few months after he graduated  with Tam’s class of 1983 and is still working here as a member of Tam’s janitorial staff today.

     There are few people left who remember Eckelhoff as a student. One of them is his former teacher Miguel Campas, who now is a substitute assistant principal for the district.  “He was just a nice kid,” said Campas. “He was then and he is now, always around the campus being friendly.”
     “I was the typical practical joker.  I would go into the classrooms and hold the door shut so the teacher couldn’t get in,” said Eckelhoff. “Probably shouldn’t tell you stuff like that though.  I just always wanted to be the center of attention.”
     Eckelhoff was never fully comfortable in the academic classes at Tam, and found his niche in classes based less on books. “My favorite class was auto shop.  I like working on stuff, you know,  like where the final is taking something apart with my hands,” said Eckelhoff. “My favorite school class was a history class where the teacher would sit and just tell old war stories.  I liked classes where I could just sit in class and never have to open a book.”
     Even before he finished high school, Eckelhoff knew academics was not his path.  “I had a lot of teachers I liked and they liked me and we both knew my boundaries, but they’re all gone now,” said Eckelhoff. “I wasn’t really a college-bound person.  Schooling wasn’t my thing.  Maybe junior or senior year,  I just wasn’t real good at testing and had a private tutor to help me.  Being a custodian isn’t a challenge for me.  It’s easier to do this work than buckle down and study.”
     Senior year, Eckelhoff made a decision, one that would stick with him for the rest of his life.  He did not apply to college and instead decided to enter the green-collar world of Tam’s janitorial staff.   As his peers moved on to college orientation, Ecklhoff revved up his Gator.  “After graduating, I realized I needed a job rather than college, because my mother was a single parent of five and she struggled to raise them on her own.”
     Eckelhoff looked out for his mother because she was always looking out for him.  “I knew his mother personally because she worked at the post office,” said Campas. “The first thing she always asked me was how Eckelhoff was doing.  She was always very concerned about her son.”
     Since he took the job in order to help his struggling mother, little has changed.  Eckelhoff is still the same man.  Riding the same green Gator.  In the same green shirt, with a few buttons undone.  Cracking the same jokes.  The only difference is, he’s not a kid anymore. While the campus remains in a perpetual puberty, Eckelhoff has slowly aged beyond it.  “I just like being around the kids,” said Eckelhoff. “People wanna know why I’m 45 and don’t have any kids.  I don’t have kids of my own because I have 1,300 here.”
     Eckelhoff is reluctant to talk about life outside of Tam, and mostly dodges questions with a joke and a chuckle that seems to come from somewhere inside his thick neck.  “Don’t ask me about all the women I’ve had,” said Eckelhoff. “That would be too long of a conversation.”
     “This fast.” said campus supervisor Wil Owens, butting in as he snapped his fingers;  it was hard to tell who is whose sidekick.
     “What can I say?  I'm just a magnet to the females,” Eckelhoff continued as if he hadn’t heard Owens. “I'm walking down the street and they're just falling out of windows.  I stretch out my hands like this,” Eckelhoff spreads he’s arms wide, like some sort of green bird, “And they reach out just to get a little touch of my fingertips.”
     Eckelhoff got married last year in the only place he belongs in more than Tam.  "I got married at the NASCAR Track on February 26, 2009,” said Eckelhoff. “And that was a sad day for all the females, because I became unavailable.”
     Eckelhoff’s obsession with NASCAR is borderline unhealthy.  It’s how he starts almost every conversation and it’s written across the matching jackets he and his wife sport in their honeymoon photo. “We got married and there was a race that weekend, and we went,” said Eckelhoff. “I’ve gone to this race in Vegas--it’s called the Shelby 400--every year for 10 years.  My wife doesn’t care about NASCAR too much, but she goes because I go.”
     He’s even paid top dollar just to grasp at a NASCAR celebrity.  “I met Jeff Gordon.” said Eckelhoff. “I won’t let you how much that cost me.  I had 15 minutes with him,” said Eckelhoff. “I got pictures of that.  I was a celebrity for a good 15 minutes.”
     At Tam, Eckelhoff has aquired an aura of his own, though he’s riding a fine line between celebrity and notoriety as a joker.  “He just seems really, really friendly,” said senior Claire Courtney. “And when he’s not talking to students, he’s getting a job done. Otherwise, Tam would stop running.”
     Eckelhoff acknowledges that Tam needs him, not only for the job he does, but also for the spirit he brings. “Tam without me would be like Cornflakes without the milk,” he said. “I’ll tell you how it would be, it would be like a church.”
     Eckelhoff’s work ethic and familiarity with Tam make him valuable.  “He’s a hard worker,” said head custodian Pat Gannon. “He’s been here the longest of anyone and he knows every nook and cranny of this place.”
     The school has provided the niche in which Eckelhoff flourishes.  “Going right to work was much easier for me.  I’m much more of a hands-on person,” said Eckelhoff. “If you give me a book though, I find it hard to tell you what I’m reading.  That’s my stuff, I’m just hands on and always liked to tinker with stuff.”
     Eckelhoff needs this school, and the school needs him.    “When you’re around here as long as I have been, you just sorta are friends with the place,” said Eckelhoff. “I grew up with Tam and I know just know it.  I drive the green golf cart around.  That’s what the school knows me for: the big blonde guy in the green golf cart.”
     They need each other, the school and Eckelhoff. And that might be the reason he couldn’t bring himself to leave. “Garret twas just always hanging around the campus,” said Campas. “Always just around, always friendly, and he still is,.It’s almost like he never left.”

This article originally appeared in the April 2010 issue.