The time had come when the faithful old school janitor needed to be replaced by a newer model. With considerable embarrassment, the superintendent undertook to break the news to the old man. In tactful terms he extolled the glories of social security, retirement, pension and a testimonial dinner. The janitor registered surprise, disbelief and indignation. "Durn it all," he said, "when I took the job in 1890, they promised me it would be permanent."—Frederick J. Moffitt, "Chalk Dust," Nation's Schools
Some aeronautic students designed a model of a new plane: The tryout of the model was a failure since the wings broke off at the fuselage. Later on a discussion was going on where the students were trying to learn just what caused the structural failure. The custodian happened by, listened to the seminar, and asked if he might make a suggestion. He was allowed to and he explained that they should drill some holes or perforations along the wing and fuselage where they met. This was done and another model was made which performed admirably. The amazed students asked the custodian how he got the idea. He replied, "I've been a custodian for 30 years and I've never known even paper towels to break at the perforated line."
In the educational world a school administrator knows something about everything, a specialist knows everything about something—and the custodian knows everything.
School superintendent to applicant for the position of custodian: "Most of all we need a thoroughly responsible man."
Applicant: I’m sure qualified—every place I've worked, when things went haywire, they never failed to tell me I was responsible."