By Kevin Milan
Published Monday, January 7, 2013
From www.firefighternation.com
Before earning the first bugle, a fire officer gains vast experience in consuming and delivering firefighter training. Prior to becoming an officer, NFPA 1021: Standard for Fire Officer Professional Qualifications requires that fire and emergency service instructors master the capabilities described in NFPA 1041: Standard for Fire Service Instructor Professional Qualifications. This isn’t a coincidence. Our industry recognizes the most important training officer in the fire service is the company officer; they are the keystones of training, closing the gap between theory and application of knowledge skills, and abilities (KSAs). As such, officers have a great responsibility to the fire service. Most importantly, they must be brutally honest when evaluating the KSAs of their firefighters.
It’s All about the Weakest Link
This responsibility is not to be taken lightly. Many officers seek to be popular by handing out glowing performance appraisals; unfortunately, popularity doesn’t save lives. Performance of a crew, and possibly their survival, hinges on KSA mastery. It isn’t an average of the crew, or the abilities of the highest performer that matters. Although it sounds trite, it is the weakest link on the crew who determines overall performance.
And the Nominees Are … Not
Feedback provided to a crew needs to be more than just “great job” or “nice work.” The post-incident analysis of the last fire sounds like the academy award nominations in far too many fire departments. Celebrate success, but don’t let it go to your head. I have yet to see a “perfect” fire or a flawless NFPA 1410 evolution. I’ve seen the good, the bad and the ugly. The takeaway is that evaluation—honest evaluation—must be engrained in the process. The company officer sits in the best spot to evaluate the crew.
Failure as Teacher
Think back to the times you’ve learned the most on the drill ground or emergency scene. Teachable moments don’t always occur on your best days. Often, failure teaches you more, and those lessons can last a lifetime. Nothing is worse than an evaluator who makes excuses for poor performance, such as the equipment or the exercise design set the crew up for failure. Good instructors and officers tell it like it is. Excuses for sub-par performance undermine learning.
Not Knots!
As a new volunteer firefighter, I learned my most valuable lesson from a dry-witted, honest captain. As a recruit, I often questioned why such an emphasis was placed on firefighter knots in my academy. It seemed that I demonstrated these at every juncture, yet the instructors just kept asking for another knot. The only evaluation they offered was a nod or “good job,” no matter if the knot was sloppy or immaculately dressed. I developed a level of complacency that, had it not been corrected by my future captain, could have killed me.
I wanted to move beyond knots. I enjoyed bantering about smooth-bore vs. fog nozzles. I discussed the merits of vertical vs. horizontal ventilation and claimed to know when and how to vent. I knew stack effects, mushrooming and I even learned the basics of reading smoke. I liked ropes and I wanted to move beyond the basics and discuss mechanical advantage, ascenders and load sharing anchors—not knots.
Don’t get me wrong. I could, and did, tie knots for the simple tests given to all recruits. I could trace the rabbit out of the hole and around the tree. The family of eights was no problem with a pliable rope and my well-worn utility gloves. I even mastered the rescue knot, a knot that I can honestly state I’ve never used in an emergency setting. What I couldn’t do was tie these knots when it mattered: in zero visibility and under stress.
During one live-burn training exercise, I remember advancing a charged hoseline into the fire room where I saw my captain holding a section of rope. He casually tossed it to me and asked for a few knots before I attacked the fire. I was dumfounded. Why an experienced officer with active fire in the room would ask a rookie to set down a charged line and tie a knot was beyond me. It was miserably hot and visibility diminished with each passing moment. I froze; limited dexterity of my fire gloves crippled my abilities. I couldn’t see clearly and the rope was the rigid “gold line” that I knew we kept on the rig, but never used. Finally, I was able to get a series of acceptable knots tied for the boss, who then allowed us to attack the fire.
Learn How to Scream
I dreaded the trip out of the building. I knew possessing a valid certification was no excuse for poor performance. The captain obviously wasn’t pleased with my performance. His scowl was a dramatic change from the new-age instructor who taught my academy ropes class. To this day I’ll never forget the words that changed my life. He simply said, “Milan, if you keep tying knots like that, you better learn how to scream.”
That was it; I immediately understood the gravity of the situation. As a substandard performer, I put myself and my crew at risk. This simple, honest evaluation fixed me. At that moment, my emphasis shifted as did my entire approach to my job. I understood the importance of tying a knot one-handed behind my back in the dark. I knew that my personal responsibility, for every aspect of the job, was a priority.
A Changed Firefighter
The lesson: There are no unimportant skills. For me, that message came across via the honest feedback I received from my captain. It was simple, but it made all the difference. I no longer tolerated the “’at a’ boys” handed out in training. I wanted to know how I could do it better. I sought out the critical eye of every company officer I worked with. After all, they had the best seat in the house to view my performance.
Looking for a New Year’s Resolution?
If you’re looking for a New Year’s Resolution, try this one: Put on your thick skin and ask for the feedback that you need to improve. Similarly, don’t be afraid to dish it out; I encourage you to be brutally honest as a student and an instructor.
It’s said that a firefighter has an ego that’s a mile long and paper thin. Honest evaluation can tear a paper-thin ego, but it’s a small price to pay for excellence. Honesty is incredibly important in our work.
Given a hard choice, I never learned how to scream very well. My captain taught me my greatest lesson in that burn house, and as you can see, I’ve never forgotten it.
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