Winter | 2026
The Last Late Shift
"I like knowing that when I leave here, the building's clean and ready for them to come in and do what they do."

Kevin Warrington has spent more than two decades making sure Monmouth-Roseville's schools are ready for the next day—often after everyone else has gone home. It's not glamorous work, and he's the first to say so, but it's work he's taken pride in for 21 years. When he retires this June, he'll leave behind far more than clean floors and orderly hallways. He'll leave a place shaped by consistency, care, and a steady presence that rarely asks for attention.
Kevin began working for the district in 2005, hired by the Roseville School District just before consolidation officially made it Monmouth-Roseville. At the time, the job appealed for practical reasons. The hours matched what he was earning at County Market. The pay was the same. And it was only three blocks from home. What he didn't expect was how deeply he'd come to enjoy the work.
He started as a night custodian at Lincoln, a role that suited his temperament. These days, he works largely on his own, coming in mid-afternoon and moving through the building in a carefully choreographed routine. He sweeps the gym while it's empty, sets up for games when needed, and works room to room—often adjusting to avoid practices, teams, or the everyday chaos of a busy school.
Summers surprise people most. While students and teachers are away, custodians empty entire classrooms, scrub and wax floors, and put everything back together. Kevin tells new custodians what to expect: teachers walk in, notice the shiny floors, and that's the first thing to be worn down again. He laughs about it. "They're not intentional," he says. "It's just the rhythm of a building meant to be used.
Early in his career at Lincoln, he grabbed a young girl's hair and backpack as she stepped toward traffic, pulling her back from an oncoming semi. He apologized; her grandmother thanked him. Kevin asked administrators if they could add flashing signs. He became a crossing guard for a time.
When buildings closed, and positions shifted, Kevin stayed by subbing, mowing, plowing snow, and performing building checks—whatever was needed. Eventually, he worked nights at the high school, then days, and later chose to return to nights so he could retire the way he started. There was symmetry in that decision.
Kevin is a Monmouth-Roseville graduate himself, Class of 1989. He's watched the district change over decades—class sizes shrink from packed classrooms to just 13 students in his sons' cohort. He lived through the consolidation and acknowledges that while it was difficult for some at first, it ultimately strengthened both communities.
Family is central to his story. Kevin and his wife have raised two sons, ages 29 and 22, both Monmouth-Roseville graduates now working at Lowe's—one in Burlington, one in Galesburg. His oldest is engaged. His youngest graduated in 2020, the Covid year, without a real ceremony. Kevin speaks with pride about their work ethic and shares the advice he's lived by: attitude matters. You make a job what it is.
When his younger son complains about a manager, Kevin's advice is direct: just listen, nod, and walk off and go do it. That's ego, he says. You've got to let that go. It's the same principle Kevin applies to work: smile and wave. You don't know what they're going through.
Kevin doesn't believe in the perfect job. He's watched people chase one opportunity after another, never settling. That perspective has carried him through long shifts, injuries—including a serious shoulder injury from throwing out a trash bag that sidelined him for nine months—and the quiet grind of daily responsibility.
He sold his Jeep on Marketplace and never replaced it. Now he walks about six blocks to work. He doesn't really want another car payment or to pay for gas, he says simply.
As retirement approaches, Kevin is looking forward to projects of a different kind—restoring a 1967 Camaro and possibly a 1972 Volkswagen Beetle that his wife wants him to restore. Rust color, he jokes, though it's just surface rust. But he'll miss knowing that when he locks up and turns out the lights, the building is ready for morning.
For more than two decades, Kevin Warrington has helped keep Monmouth-Roseville running smoothly, one evening at a time. It's work that rarely draws attention—but it's work that matters.
