Magdalena Pedraza’s favorite color is pink. Freddie Lopez was a minister in Ecuador, where he led a church with over four hundred people. Although you may not realize it, you already know both Ms. Pedraza and Mr. Lopez. They are two members of Choate’s maintenance staff- or as they are euphemistically referred to “environmental service people.”

In 1999, Magdalena moved from remote Michoacan, Mexico to Wallingford, Connecticut. She misses her family the most, and then Mexican pozole (a corn stew), which she cooks with American ingredients for her two toddlers. She has never managed to achieve the same taste in the recipe as she did when she cooked the dish in her native land. Freddie Lopez is from farther south in Ecuador. He still preaches, but now to a congregation of four—his wife and three children. He is starting a new congregation in Wallingford and invites you all to his home to join.

Before this week, I couldn’t have told you much about Ms. Pedraza or Mr. Lopez. It’s not hard to understand why. While the cleaning staff is a ubiquitous presence on campus, they are often unseen. When we go to class, they clean our dorms and when we sleep, they clean the classrooms. They work behind the closed doors of the kitchen and their base camp is at Brownell, seemingly football fields away from the center of school. And when we do see them, we bend our heads just low enough to appear apologetic and to miss the eagerness of their gaze.

My connection all started with “perdon.” I had intended to apologize for the trail of mud I was leaving on the floors of the Day Student Lounge, look guilty and ashamed for a few moments, walk away, and then resume to muddy the rest of Hill House without so much a worry. But, between pausing to pick between the ud versus tu form of address, and wondering why the man holding the mop looked so delighted at the mess I was causing (both linguistically and on the floor), I couldn’t finish my sentence. My confusion at his expression was resolved when he interrupted my awkward silence with “¡ me hace tan feliz oir mi lengua nativa!”--what a joy to hear my own native tongue!

My introduction to Freddie taught me how much he and his colleagues appreciate personal connections with students. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that despite the counter-cyclical scheduling and language barrier, many Choate students have formed relationships with Freddie, Magdalena, and the team. Of course there are students who ignore and overlook the cleaning crew. Others are unintentionally inconsiderate, such as guys who use the urinal while female staff clean the bathrooms. (Now you know.) Fortunately, the force of considerate students leaves a larger impression. Some students clean up their tables after meals, while others leave small presents at the end of each term as tokens of their appreciation.

You can make a difference in a staff member’s day without realizing it. Richard Rodgers, who cleans the Library and Spencer explains, “it always lifts my spirits when I see students smiling or even fooling around and having fun.” Galadis Barranecaen, who cleans Squire, agrees that there is nothing that brightens her day quite as much as a smiling student. It doesn’t get much easier than that.

And we can do more. We can all make an effort to acknowledge their presence on a deeper level than eye contact. If the smiles and laughs that we share amongst ourselves can make a difference, imagine the power of these same actions shared directly with the staff. A conversation isn’t too scary either. It provides a jetlag-free opportunity for you to practice your Spanish, rid yourself of that pretentious Madrid accent, and get a genuine south-of-the-border sound.

Hearing what they have to share is even more valuable. You’ll learn moving accounts of their passage from South America- and other parts of the world- to the United States. You might get some good dirt on campus, such as which dorms house the messiest kids. This year’s prize goes to Logan Monroe—you know are who you are.

You may find it awkward to jump from muttering apologies while you step on the floor they just cleaned to asking what aspirations they have for their children—but don’t let this get in the way of giving conversation a shot. Think about it this way, worst case you call yourself pregnant (embarazada) when you meant to say you were embarrassed (estar avergonzado). But now that I’ve warned you, you’ll be spared from those embarazada moments. Next time you see Magdalena, Freddie, Galadis, or Richard, nothing stands in your way.