Dean Craig Pelton might not have been the best dean, in terms of organization or money management or what might be considered proper administrator behavior. Some probably found his bubbliness intimidating or annoying, and his outfits and antics absurd and over-the-top. He was a bit of a pushover sometimes and often his efforts to do good were less-than-perfectly executed. He wasn't perfect. At all.

By no means, though, did any student or faculty at Greendale have a shred of doubt that the Dean absolutely loved his school. He wanted the best for it and its inhabitants, and though he knew it wasn't exactly anyone's first choice college, he wanted each and every one of them to feel like they belonged there.

Because he knew what it was like to not belong, to feel as if the pressure to conform and succeed by standards that weren't his own suffocated his desire to express himself and pursue what made him happy. He'd been bullied and trodden on and stuffed into boxes that he really didn't fit in, been cut down and pushed aside and had his opportunities and choices kept at a minimum. He'd been there, and he'd be damned if he was going to let Greendale make anyone else feel that way.

So he threw dances, hosted puppy parades and talent shows, allowed the construction of pillow forts and widespread, chaotic, hardcore games of paintball that, despite the seriousness it developed and the state in which it left the school, kept the students passionate and excited about something.

Greendale was their home, and that made everyone there his family. The Dean took that to heart, and his heart is what he poured into it.