You see them everyday on campus.
They are everywhere — the quad, building hallways, dining halls and occasionally your dorm and locker room.
Maybe they’ve cleaned the office you work in or take you to school and back every day.
But have you actually paid attention to them? Can you put a name to any of these faces?
Our campus thrives on the work of our faculty and staff. The maintenance and facility services staff at LSU are some of the most dedicated people on campus. They are part of the backbone of this university, working hard everyday to maintain each aspect of a lively, functioning campus. They represent this university in ways none of us can because they leave their fingerprints on every surface of campus.
Sometimes, you hear them before you see them: the wheels of carts as they turn against pavement or linoleum floors, the revving motors of leaf blowers and lawn mowers, their hammers banging away the loose ends of a problem. When you do see them, they smile, greet you, and go back to work, tending to the needs of our campus.
Jackie Pooler is one of these workers.
Pooler flits from table to table, picking up after hurried students on the second floor of the Student Union. A closer look makes it clear this woman has life experience beyond her years. She laughs often, speaks in quick bursts and never skips an opportunity to share her story so others may learn from it.
Pooler began working at LSU in 1998. Before cleaning the second floor of the Union, she was a server at the Pentagon, now called The 5, and later moved to Outtakes.
After being an LSU employee for 17 years, Pooler prefers what she does now.
“I like cleaning up better than serving food because I don’t have anybody looking over me,” she said. “I know what to do.”
Though Pooler now finds more than enough enjoyment in a warm bubble bath at the end of a long day, she hasn’t always valued the simplicity of her current position.
“I used to live a wild life,” Pooler said. “I was out there in the world, drinking and drugging. And I had fun, but I save a lot more money now.”
Students who have worked with Pooler describe her as hilarious, real, and wise.
“The students and me are cool. I mean, I don’t know them by name, but they know me…probably because of the nametag,” Pooler laughed.
Pooler is mostly satisfied with her work environment. However, she had one confession. Pooler crossed her hands atop her lap. Her tone became careful as she mulled over her thoughts.
“If I could change one thing about this job, I would ask for more help,” Pooler said. “Chick-fil-a’s open till 10 and we all get off at 6, and the next morning I have a lot of cleaning to do. It’s not a big deal or anything, just a pain.”
Pooler has two grandchildren, 11 and 13.
“I have a daughter who stays with me, and I pay the bills,” Pooler said matter-of-factly.
She regained her jovial demeanor to offer some advice to the students of LSU.
“Believe me, I know they’re fun,” Pooler wagged her finger, “But don’t do drugs.”
There’s always something about the quiet ones which draws a person in. It seems people of few words are often enveloped in the comfort of constancy and a soft, yet confident spirit. Talana Jones exudes both —she has been an LSU Campus Transit bus driver for seven months.
While management expects Jones and her coworkers to offer pleasantries to their passengers, Jones is the type of woman that would have made this choice regardless.
“I’m kind of a quiet person, but I tell everybody that gets on, ‘Hey, how you doing?’ and everybody that gets off, I tell them, ‘Have a good day,’” Jones said as she instinctively accomplished a tight turn.
Jones knows she has the power to impart a positive influence on the moods of her passengers, so she ignores her inclination to stay reserved.
On the surface, bus driving seems far from the common definition of glorious. Taxiing hundreds of sweaty, droopy-eyed, earbud-donning students complaining about their scatterbrained professors is certainly not a job for those lacking patience, but Jones sees a need for herself.
She savors the moment she notices her riders’ appreciation, however subtle it may be.
“When they see [bus route] ‘purple’ coming, everybody piles up to the road, like ‘Yes!’” Jones said. “When they get out of class, they’re looking for their bus, so I feel like I can make these students’ day brighter simply by showing up.” Jones laughed. She knows happiness can be as mundane as the collective relief felt when a bus arrives on time.
Bus driving may be her only source of income, but Jones holds many important positions for the people in her life.
“I’m supporting four children at home, two sons and two daughters,” Jones said, her voice shaking.
Hard times fell upon her in the summer of 2015 when LSU had no need for Jones’ services. Despite Jones’ best efforts, she couldn’t secure another job, and her situation grew dire.
She could no longer afford to keep a house of her own.
“Right now I live with my cousin, her three kids, and my four kids in a three-bedroom house,” Jones said. A tear fell down her cheek.
Despite these hardships, Jones always puts her family first. To say she only works as a bus driver would be selling Jones incredibly short.
“I’m also a girlfriend, a momma, a counselor and a cook for my kids,” Jones’ dewy eyes were interrupted by a smile. “My kids are my second job, and I love it.”
Even though Jones is content with her current position, she remains hopeful that one day she will climb the professional ladder.
“I want to have a higher position one day, one not behind the wheel so often,” Jones said, “Not because I dislike this job but because I want to give my own kids as big a head start as possible.”
When asked what advice Jones would give the community, she took a minute to think.
“Reach for the highest mountain,” Jones said. “Do what you need to and enjoy the ride.”
But she’s not the only one reaching.
Our custodial faculty plays a major role in keeping LSU beautiful.
Their work can be found everywhere from the smallest classroom to the dorms and dining halls. They take care of us in the greatest sense by simply cleaning up our messes.
Corey King is still getting used to his title as custodian. He was hired a few weeks ago.
King is a shy young man in his late twenties with a wide, welcoming smile and flicker of light in his eyes. He scrolls through his cell phone while sitting on a bench in front of Middleton Library.
“I want to have my own business one day and be successful,” King said. “Like a car wash and detailing business.”
He graduated from high school but decided to not go straight to college.
“I really didn’t know what I wanted to do at the time,” King confessed.
King carefully considers his responses before uttering a word. He keeps his answers short and simple as if wanting to keep an air of mysticism about him.
“I wanted to be a police officer,” he said, reflecting on his past and the options which lie ahead. “Sometimes I think about becoming part of LSU Police.”
King believes it is not too late to hit the books again and pick up where he left off. For him, college suddenly became an option.
“Not yet, I’m still thinking about though,” he answered. A little bit of doubt swiped over his face. “I’m not really sure about how the university will pay for it.”
Uncertainty doesn’t stop King from imagining he will be admitted into the flagship university. He already has an idea of what he would major in —business or marketing.
King works eight hours every day including weekends. He doesn’t have a significant other yet, but the workload has not prevented him from missing special family moments. King pays his bills and gives his close family members “a little something” from time to time.
Corey King is just starting to get a sense of the inner workings of LSU, but Zalarease Judson has been a university employee for eight years.
Judson’s nurturing personality is bright and infectious. Judson is a 50 year old mother of three with four grandchildren, but she speaks to everyone as if they were family. Though her children are having children of their own, Judson still wants the best for them.
“My hopes for them are to have a good career and be successful,” she said.
Judson graduated from high school and went straight to nursing school, but her education was cut short.
“I had to step out because a family member was sick,” she explained. “My mother. She has dementia.”
Like most college students, Judson would change her major if she returned to college.
“I would study in childhood development. My dream is to own my own business. In childcare,” she said.
Judson works 40-hour weeks and cares for her mother. She responded with a simple “no” when asked if her hours pull her away from her family.
“[I hope for] my mother to be better,” she said. Judson’s expression softened at the thought of her mother. Judson’s boundlessly supportive nature shines through her pride in LSU students.
“[They] try to build themselves a good career and I admire that they are trying to better themselves in life,” she said. “Looking at them makes me think of what I could [have been] doing when I was in college. So when I look at them, I know they [will] have a better future and won’t have to work so hard.”
Pooler, Jones, King and Judson are a fraction of the faculty and staff dedicating their lives, hopes and dreams to LSU. They are a vital part of the campus community. Some have watched thousands of students come and go. They are inspired by students and always ready to listen, but they also have their own stories to tell.
After all, the stories behind these faces aren’t so different from our own.