In early Spring, the winds change gradually, a hint of warmth one day, rain the next. Sun for a few hours, then a chill breeze. The leaves start to show, and then it snows. It's hard to know when Spring actually begins, when it's here to stay.
The same with summer. Warm Spring days and cool nights gradually shift to a little drier, a little warmer. More and more leaves, flowers, insects, until one day we wonder how the summer flew by so fast. It's impossible to set a date, a time, for when we knew it was really here.
Not so, Winter.
I woke up this morning, and there it was.
I don't care what the calendar says.
The frost on the windshield, the freeze-killed plants, said all that needed to be said.
This blog started out with a long list of things I wanted to write about, thoughts I wanted to share.
I discovered not too long after I started that the most interesting things to write about, and to read, are the more personal ones, and that the more personal things are often too much to share. A dilemma.
That said...
I meet a lot of people in this tiny town. Often, when they are having a difficult time of some kind. Sometimes, I RE-meet them on those stressful days. People I've known for years, but not well, suddenly thrown in together as they face a difficult event, and I do my best to help ameliorate it.
Sometimes it's great. We reconnect, and I walk away feeling like I was able to be some help to them.
But sometimes, it's a harbinger of times to come, when things will not end well.
A while back we had a call for an older man who had fallen. He wasn't hurt. Just needed a hand up.
This was a patient I had seen before. The last time, at his house when his wife was ill.
I had not heard at the time, but she passed away shortly after that.
So this time, at his house, she was not there.
It was heart wrenching to see how much he has changed in so short a time. His caregiver said simply "He is dying of a broken heart."
It will likely not be long before we are no longer called to that address.
That is the reality of this job.
We do the best we can to help, and then comes a time when we can do no more.
When I was younger, I had very little contact, very little realization of death. My grandparents died when I was fairly young, but I did not know them well, so it didn't have much effect on me. I knew one or two people in my first three decades who died in accidents. I was, I guess, fortunate in this.
Now, I am closer to Death. My own, as I grow older, and other people's as my calling brings me to their doors. It is nearly every day that I recognize a name in the obituaries. A patient. The mother of a friend. Someone I went to high school with. The woman down the road.
It is an interesting thing, this specter called "Death."
Everyone's final act, if rarely their goal.
I wear a pager on my hip. Much of the time, I leave my pager "open," that is to say, so I can hear calls for other fire departments in the county, not just my own. I do this partly because I'm as curious as the next person, but also because I know a lot of people in the fire service now, and whenever there is a call, it is likely friends of mine who are putting themselves in danger.
Whenever there is an emergency that requires either firefighters or emergency medical services, the information that tells them where they are needed is preceded by tones on the pager. Listen to these tones often enough and you begin to recognize them before the dispatcher says anything. There is a department near here that has a tone that is distinctive, and is used when they need to alert off-duty personnel that they may be needed. My family calls this the "shit hitting the fan tone."
Whenever we hear that tone, we stop and pay attention. Likewise, whenever any area department is called to a structure fire. Often, when it is a real emergency, or even when it's clearly not, someone will suggest that it's "the big one."
It's sort of an emergency services in-joke. Most of the "big ones" out here in the middle of nowhere aren't really big. Big for us, or for our neighbor departments, maybe. But not much compared to a lot of other places. Some departments, a cat in a tree might be their "big one." And that's not a complaint, at all.
The thing is, whenever anyone says that, there is an underlying suggestion that it COULD actually be "The Big One." Anything can happen. Anywhere. You just never know.
I can't help but think about what must have gone through the heads of all the FDNY responders on 9/11.
It's the big one.
The REALLY Big One, no joke.
That thing, that specter in the back of everyone's minds, this is really it.
And yet, as big as it was, each individual firefighter, each EMT, each person, what they needed to do, their job, was quite simple. One thing at a time. The same as always. Set up water supply. Pull hoses. Make entry. Search and rescue. Triage. Patient care.
And that's what they did. In impossible circumstances, a situation so beyond the ordinary that there is no way to train for it. They went to work, did their jobs, and were there to help people they had never met.
Only the world came down around them.
I will never forget the moment I saw the first tower begin to fall. Slow motion. Looking exactly like one of those planned demolitions of the old casinos in Las Vegas that there are documentaries about.
Except.
Except.
My mind froze the moment I realized.
There are people in there.
People who had simply gone to work as usual that morning.
People who could not possibly escape, and who likely had time to realize that.
People with families. Husbands. Wives. Sons and daughters.
And heartbreakingly, sadder than sad, those who had gone to rescue them.
People often say that a firefighter is "willing to die for others." That they "rush into burning buildings."
Like hell.
No sane person is "willing to die."
No sane person rushes in without considering the circumstances, the risk/benefit ratio.
They may choose to take a calculated risk.
And they may underestimate the risk, for whatever reason.
No one knew what the risks were that day.
No one could imagine them.
They can, now.
Since that day, I have met people who were there. People who have stories to tell, about how they were able to survive when others didn't make it. Stories they don't often tell. It isn't about them.
It's about those who can no longer tell their stories.
We lost a lot of good people that day.
Let their sacrifice inspire you to make a difference in the world. We're left with a lot of catching up to do, to do all the good they might have.
Do something in their memory today.
EVERY day.
As of today, there have been 1040 residential fire fatalities this year, compiled by the US Fire Administration's Quick Response Program. This list is compiled from the media, meaning that there are undoubtedly fatalities that aren't on the list because they didn't make the newspaper. You can see the list here.
Three years ago today, our house burned.
Last year, I posted a description of the events of the day.
Today, we still have not gone through all the boxes of stuff that was packed up by the cleaning company, but we have gone through a lot of them. We have donated, given away, and thrown away a lot of it. While not down to the level we hope to eventually reach, we have far less "stuff" in our house now, and that's a good thing.
As of last month, when my daughter joined, we now have three of the four of us in the fire service. While I had been interested in the fire service for most of my life, and my oldest had some interest before our fire, there is no escaping that the fire was quite... motivational.
It is the beginning of the school year, of the academic semester at local colleges, and this means that a lot of people are going to spend their days in large buildings with crowded conditions, and a lot are going to be living in dorms, also often crowded, or at least, high occupancy.
Take fire safety seriously.
While the most common causes of residential fires may be unattended cooking or that all-too-famous "carelessly discarded cigarette," causes that might be avoidable, they do not all begin that way. Sometimes, there is no warning.
What happens is this: an emergency, by its nature, happens suddenly. You don't have time to think, to decide, to make rational choices. You may be in an unfamiliar building. You may be asleep. There is no way to know.
Make your plans NOW, before things go wrong. Practice them.
You may want to make changes in your house. More smoke detectors. Fire extinguishers. Escape ladders. Furniture arranged so that windows are accessible. Less clutter. Care with the placement and loading of outlets or extension cords. Appliances unplugged when not in use.
If it feels like you are so prepared that no matter what happens, escape will be easy, so you don't need to worry about it- that would be great!
I guarantee you that you do not want to suddenly find yourself inside a burning building, with no protective gear, holding an empty fire extinguisher, facing a fire that is growing exponentially, hoping that your children and pets are already outside. You do not want to hear the fire destroy everything it reaches, or see your house full of smoke down almost to the floor. You don't want to stand in your yard, waiting for help to arrive, wondering if you will have anything left, or where you will go, what you will do. You don't want to hear the firefighters with a chainsaw on your roof.
Trust me on that.
In the past few years, I've had some financially difficult times. More than once, online friends- sometimes people I barely know- have come forward to help me out right when I needed it most. A miraculous save. Appreciated far more than I could ever express to them.
I have an opportunity to pay some of that forward, and I'm asking anyone reading this to consider helping, too.
One of the blogs I read is written by a fellow EMT-B who goes by the name of Epijunky.
Contrary to the sound of her name, she's more than a trauma junky, for sure. Her heart is in great patient care, whether it's an emergency or a transfer, and she expresses it with soul and wit, even when she's sometimes a little crispy around the edges. She often brings tears to my eyes, and she reminds me why it is that I do this.
Since I started reading her blog, she has more than once mentioned wanting to be a paramedic, and recently, she passed the entrance exam to be accepted to the school near her. She was worried about the exam, but those of us who have gotten to "know" her online had no doubts at all.
Then the bad news hit, and she was going to have to call it quits for financial reasons.
Fortunately for all her future patients, one of her blogfriends has put together a donation account on paypal so everyone who cares about her and/or thinks she would make a great paramedic, can chip in a little to help make it happen. It only takes a little from each person to help her out a whole lot.
So I'm asking you to consider it. Go on over to Bernice's blog and look for the donation button.
I know how hard it is to need help. And I know it's even harder to ask for it. I know Epi would never ask for herself, so I'm joining the group of people asking on her behalf.
And Epi, if you read this... I also know how hard it is to accept help. Just do it. It's not really for you, it's for all the people you will be able to help. They need you.
I learned something today.
I recently took a class at the state Fire Academy, certifying me as a Fire and Life Safety Educator. This is a subject very near and dear to my heart, for a variety of reasons.
I am working on organizing a class in the Fall for middle school aged kids, and will undoubtedly write about that here off and on. As part of my preparation for that class, I have been researching a variety of fire safety issues, including what is taught to what ages- and what is not.
One of the things that is fascinating about fire safety is that even people who know better, often don't act on what they know. For example, one might think that firefighters are the most safe people, as far as making sure there are not hazards in their house, that they have enough detection devices, and that they practice what they preach.
Not necessarily so.
At our house, we are pretty paranoid about it, having had a serious fire. We have more smoke detectors than you can shake a stick at, of various types. We have Carbon Monoxide detectors. We have escape plans and fire drills, and talk about it all incessantly.
Even so.
There are a variety of things we could do to make our house safer, that we somehow don't manage to get done.
And if WE don't, as paranoid as we are, I can only imagine what other people do- and don't do.
I read some statistics yesterday that said that according to the National Fire Protection Association (NFPA):
Fire is the third leading cause of accidental deaths. Residential occupancies account for most fire fatalities and most of these deaths occur at night during the sleeping hours. 1.5 million Americans are injured by fire each year. It is estimated that each household will experience three (usually unreported) fires per decade and two fires serious enough to report to a fire department per lifetime.
This means that most people, at some point in their lives, will have a fire.
The most common cause of home fires is unattended cooking. Food left on the stove while the person leaves the room to do something else.
I've been guilty of this. If the heat is turned down low, I know the food won't burn, and there isn't anything near the burner that might catch fire, then what's the danger?
Well.
This evening, I was cooking pasta. Boiling water, basically. What's dangerous about that?
When I turned the burner on, it lit as usual. A few seconds later, for some unknown reason, the fire went out- but the gas was still on!! If I had left the room, I would not have known this happened. And if the gas had built up, and found an ignition source...
Have any of you ever seen a building that has had a gas explosion? Probably some of the folks reading this have. Hopefully, most of you have not, and never will. Let's just say that being inside that building would be a most unpleasant experience.
I'm cured, that's for sure. I will NEVER leave the room with the stove burners on again. I strongly encourage you to do likewise.
We're almost to the end of the semester. Soon it will be time for the evaluations again. I can't wait!
We did a couple of things a little differently this semester, so it will be interesting to see what, if anything, that changes in the reviews we get.
The main things I've been thinking about:
How much does someone need to know in order to be able to do the things they need to do?
How much intellectual understanding is necessary, and why?
How does the progression of the class change, depending on the goal of the class?
What level of precision is reasonable to expect in 12 weeks, and how is that affected by whether or not the student will be continuing?
The university PE classes have always been sort of the "odd man out" in our overall program. These people will almost all NOT be continuing students. They take one class, for a semester, get their credit, and move on. They aren't really dedicated to the sword, and most of them don't want to put in the effort such dedication would require. They want to pass the class, maybe. They want to be able to say they "fenced in college."
For the most part, that's fine. In the fire service, this class would be at the "awareness level." Learn enough about it that you can recognize it, know what it is, and know who to call for additional help, but no real training to deal directly with the situation. These students will have seen a little fencing, learned a little about it, tried it on for a day or two (like a level A hazmat suit) to see how it feels, but they aren't likely to ever need to use it.
We show them a lot of things, but don't expect much, if any, technical precision in any of it. Enough that they aren't an immediate danger to themselves or others, but not enough that they can perform any of the techniques at anything close to what they would need to defend themselves. We simply don't have the time to do that, nor do they have the interest, most of them, to sustain that level of training.
Our introductory class elsewhere has a slightly different purpose. It is designed to give the student enough exposure that they can decide whether or not this is something they are interested in enough to continue. It is also designed to support and be preparation for the continuing classes that follow it.
What this means is that we require a higher level of precision, right from the start. We introduce things more slowly, giving more time to work on each skill before moving to the next. If we didn't do that, we'd have people slogging through a bunch of uncoordinated movements, none of which would build towards the goal of learning to fence. We still need to have things move along relatively rapidly, in order to reach that goal of helping people decide whether this is for them. It is a different balance of information/precision than the PE classes.
Once a student finishes the introductory class, and chooses to continue, indicating that they have made a commitment to fencing, the continuing classes move at a MUCH slower pace than any of the introductory classes. NOW, we're trying to gain skill. This requires much repetition, and time to integrate each skill. There is no point to moving ahead more quickly, since the results would be counterproductive.
Back to the classes this past semester and my questions.
How much does a PE student need to understand, in order to do what they need to do?
That has to start with an agreement of what they need to be able to do, and the answer is... not much.
What I would like the class to be able to do:
1. Not hurt anyone.
2. Have some semblance of moving without undue distress, and without falling over.
3. Try a few things with the blade that suggest the skills of fencing.
4. Have fun doing it.5. Gain an appreciation of what is involved in being able to do this at a high level of skill.
Some of these are easy to evaluate, others take some consideration.
The first one- not hurting anyone - is easy to evaluate.
The second one takes some decisions about what that means. At what level will I make corrections, and what will I "let slide"?
As we introduce each skill, we give a lot of feedback, both to the group as a whole (because they all make similar mistakes) and to each student (to point out to them specific things they need to focus on). We describe and demonstrate each skill, facilitate practicing it, and keep reminding them of the details. Most students, after some practice, will begin to incorporate the skill, and begin to self-correct. But not all of them. Some will, even at the end of the semester, still make fundamental errors, things we have pointed out and corrected over and over and over, either unwilling or unable to make any changes.
In the PE classes, as long as they aren't dangerous, we don't care. We don't have the time to continue to give individual corrections to someone who is not invested enough to make changes. At that point, people who are making an effort- and that is easy to see- will continue to get as much individual feedback as we can provide. Those who are phoning it in can do whatever they do, as long as it's not a safety issue. They will get reminders, but they will be broad concepts, not specific details, since they can't process any details for skills they aren't even beginning to do.
In the other intro classes, we continue to try to give a lot of feedback, to a point. Some students will clearly not be making an effort- but they also usually stop showing up to class. In these classes, they aren't concerned about a grade, so if they decide they aren't interested, they just quit. Anyone who still shows up is making at least that much effort, and almost all of the time, will be making improvement in each class. Those who are not- and there are usually one or two- are probably there because their parents make them go. We'll give them some reminders in each class, but if they don't respond, then they just don't.
Once we are past the intro level classes, we give individualized feedback for all students, as much as we can, with the expectation that they will focus on the feedback and make corrections.
When I was a student, rather than teaching, I was hugely impressed by the Master's skill at being able to give individual feedback to every student, at exactly the level they needed in order to work on exactly what they needed to work on. Turns out that although it certainly takes effort and energy, it isn't hard to do, with a body of knowledge that has a clear progression of skills.
The third class goal- trying a few things. That's simple. We do that.
And the fourth, have some fun, that's pretty clear, too.
But the fifth one... gaining an appreciation of what is involved. I'm not sure we ever really meet that goal. Some appreciation, sure. Real appreciation- I don't think it's possible at this level because there is no frame of reference. I need to think about that one some.
This semester, one of the things we did differently has to do with how much theoretical knowledge we presented in the PE classes. We skipped some stuff we have introduced in all the previous semesters, information that is critical to understand if you really want to learn to fence. It was an experiment. It felt... awkward. Odd. Incomplete. But that is probably because I have ALWAYS had that included, whether in a class I've taken, or one I've taught. Force of habit, or of expectations. My question became whether the CLASS missed that material, or if only I did.
The answer surprised me somewhat.
Looking at their level of understanding, compared to previous years, they clearly understand way less. We didn't teach it to them.
But looking at their level of physical performance... it was the same, and in some cases, slightly better. Granted, "slightly better" is probably a score of 5% rather than 4%. They don't have any real skill to speak of, so there is not a lot to compare. The important thing is that their skill level was NOT worse. This suggests- but does not prove- that the information we omitted was not necessary at this level.
I suspect that their level of enjoyment of the class is unchanged. They can't miss what they don't know exists. I will be interested to see if we get any clues from the evaluations about the overall level of enjoyment of the class, compared to previous semesters.
It might be worth continuing this experiment. Do they actually enjoy the class more, and feel like they have gotten more out of it, if we don't clutter their brains with too much theory? Do they WANT to understand more (quite possible), but need to understand less? Is it more important for them to experience the scientific nature of the way everything works together, theoretically, or is it more important that they make some broad movement attempts, and feel how that feels?
They answer, of course, is yes. Or no. Or it depends. All of the above, and none of it.
It's ALL important, and necessary, for someone who wants to be able to fence at a high level of skill- and why would anyone want to do it any other way?
But it is, perhaps, not all important for a PE class.
I need a larger sample size to begin to evaluate this.
And I need to get past my own biases and preferences and intellectual overattachments, too.
I mean, really. Look at this overly long vomitosis of wordiness. I overanalyze everything.
Maybe, just maybe, NONE of the theory, none of the explanation, is really important, in the grand scheme of things.
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