I was running the loop around Wascana Park last weekend when I heard a sound that made me catch my breath. No it was not the music on my iPod that my husband hates so much, but the sound of Canada geese. Now, those who have been to Regina will not find the sound of honking geese to be out of the ordinary. But the way it sounded above the music made me stop and take my earphones out. It sounded exactly like a sound I heard while watching coverage of 9-11.
You may remember hearing a high-pitched squealing in the background of the shots of people fleeing, or wandering in a daze after the towers fell. Many reporters at the scene were talking about the car alarms that were going off. It was eventually reported that the sigh-pitched noise that underscored everything else on that horrible day was the personal alarm system that warns when a firefighter is motionless for a predetermined amount of time. That is the day I realized what the word cacophony really meant. What the sound of those alarms really meant. When I heard that noise again on Friday, it first made me remember those that died, and how possible it actually could be for those close to me. Then it made me think about how we romanticize the profession of firefighter, and of police officer, too. Which led me to think about teachers, and how unromantic that job is. (I need to point out here that I know I think too much-my mom told me so!)
I recently read a book called Working Fire - The Making of an Accidental Fireman by Zac Unger. It’s about a young, well-heeled child of Berkley professors who decides to chuck his Masters and his stimulating work watching birds mate to become an Oakland firefighter. Unger writes of the way civilians romanticize the Job. Then he goes on to describe things that I have rarely heard my dad and brother discuss-the hell of training, CPR on dead people, sitting with a woman, her legs trapped in her car, while his crew uses the Hurst tool (Unger says a fire fighter would never call them the Jaws of Life-that’s romanticizing civilian talk) to extricate her. He talks to her, all the while knowing that once they peel back the metal that is pinning her legs, she will likely bleed out before she gets to the hospital. He talks about his screw-ups, and hierarchy and AIDS and crackhouses. And yet, in the end, through all the shit, he is still a hero.
Coming from a family “steeped in the traditions” of the fire service (wow, could barely say that with a straight face), I have always been curious about what drives firefighters to choose the job, and what it’s really like on the inside. It is very hard to discuss these things with my brother and dad, because generally, what happens in the hall stays there.
I know other firefighters of course, and we all have seen TV shows and movies that portray the exciting and heroic life of a firefighter. I have a very clear memory of my dad bursting into laughter when he watched parts of the movie Backdraft-not just the pyrotechnics, but the shot of Billy Baldwin making out with his girlfriend in a bed of hoses on the back of an engine (and there is a difference between truck and engine, apparently), had my dad really rolling his eyes. But that could just be from watching a sex scene with his teenaged daughter in the room.
So talking with my dad this weekend, I wondered about the police’s thin blue line and the firefigher’s code, and why teachers are so different. Why can cops and firefighters put aside the bullshit and save the life? Why can those departments make good cases for getting budgets passed? Why do people get excited and choked up when the flashing lights appear in the rearview mirror, then pass by, on the way to save the day?
I wondered if maybe it is the immediacy of the save. The imminence of the danger. And maybe the uniform. Don’t get me wrong, I am not at all saying those heroes don’t deserve honour and respect. They do. They save lives, they protect us. They put their lives on the line, and maybe that does some romanticizing.
Teachers, in my humble opinion, are mandated to save lives, too. It is like saving someone from drowning in a slow leak, rather than the flash flood. Ask any parent whose child has learning issues, or social issues...they will no doubt feel anxious immediacy - save my child - but our school systems are not set up to respond and save those lives quickly.
Lack of communication at a fire or a hostage-taking would result in inquiries and finger-pointing. Lack of communication in the education system, well, that’s par for the course...we have, after all, twelve years to get it right. Maybe.
Teamwork is crucial at an accident scene - egos aside, you do your job for the good of the person in danger. Some teachers (some!) hide themselves away, do not join the team, just put in the time, and protect their fiefdom, their domain. Their egos.
Police officers and firefighters will back each other up, sometimes blindly. What someone does to one of their own, is done to all. What if teachers backed each other the same way?
What if the result of a teacher not putting his or her all into the lives that are entrusted to us was immediately apparent-the death of self-esteem, the death of love of learning, the death of self-confidence, the death of decency. Would that move us to take our jobs as seriously as a “first responder”?
What if teachers could inspire that sense of respect, awe and gratitude? And why don’t we? What would change for us, for our students, for the future, if we did inspire those things...
Book of the Week - Working Fire by Zac Unger
City of Yes by Peter Oliva
Song of the Week - New Shoes - Paolo Nutini
A Man Can’t Lose - Paul Young
