Bryan Horst, as a precocious fourth grader forty-some years ago, asked his mother to take him to the courthouse to legally change the spelling of his first name. He’d grown tired of classmates and even teachers misspelling it as “Brain.” For seven dollars, his mom helped him swap the “I” for a “Y,” borrowing the style from his favorite hockey player. It was a small act of control, but it revealed something that has followed him into adulthood: ownership matters. To Bryan, names, jobs, and responsibilities are things you stand behind.

That sense of accountability shows in his role today as facility manager at Centralia High School, where he’s spent 15 years making sure everything runs as it should. Born and raised in Centralia, Horst graduated with the Class of 1990. He started at the school as a night-shift custodian, working a decade of long evenings before moving to days and then onto the grounds and athletic fields. When the longtime facility manager retired, Horst’s dependability made him the natural choice to step in. “I don’t know how I drew the short straw,” he said with a smile. “Dependable, I guess.”

Dependability is the currency of the work. With a team of about a dozen custodians and maintenance staff, Horst oversees everything from keeping classrooms spotless to managing snowstorms, preparing the football field, and occasionally handling raccoons or snakes that wander inside. “One cool thing about this job is you never know what’s going to happen during the day,” he said. The variety keeps him sharp, but it also underscores the invisible nature of the work: school can’t happen without it.

“You don’t get school if you don’t have a room that’s safe and clean, if the lights don’t work, or if people can’t park safely,” Horst explained. “But you don’t want people to make a fuss over it. You want it to be invisible.” That humility also reflects his leadership philosophy. Before coming to CHS, he managed a department in industrial painting, where he learned the simple truth that leadership isn’t about sitting back. “Nobody outworks you,” he said. “You model what you’re expecting. You’re not going to ask them to do something you’re not going to do.”

For Horst, the school is more than a workplace. His four children all came through CHS, and his oldest son, Brendan, now works on his team. “Sometimes he probably feels like I’m on him too much, and sometimes I worry I let too much go,” Horst admitted. “It’s a fine line you gotta walk.” The line between father and manager isn’t always easy, but it’s one more example of his commitment to both family and the job.

That family atmosphere extends to colleagues as well. Horst graduated alongside Reid Shipley, now principal of CHS, and works with other classmates and their spouses who returned to pour their lives back into the school. “It’s just a hometown kind of feel here,” he said. “So many people who work here went to school here. It’s a family-type environment.”

Horst now has six grandchildren—one more on the way—and he expects they’ll eventually walk the same halls he has helped care for. To him, that’s the real reward: the chance to contribute to something that outlasts any one generation. “I’ve enjoyed being part of it,” he said. “Seeing all these kids come through, including my own—and now my grandkids.”

From changing a single letter in his name as a child to managing a campus where no two days are alike, Bryan Horst has always believed in taking responsibility. At Centralia High School, that belief translates into a quiet, steady kind of leadership—one that makes it possible for the lights to come on, the games to be played, and the learning to never miss a beat.