Academics & Realities

Academics: Knowledge, skills and ability taught in a controlled learning environment.

Reality: Applying knowledge, skills and ability in the uncontrolled environment of life. 

I'm proud of my 9 children. They've been with me in the classroom, been patients for EMS practical exams, and been on the sidelines as I've taught for nearly 20 years. Shelley, the oldest, is a rising senior at UNC-Asheville. I visited her recently; she was hug (and cash) deprived.  We had an extended discussion about academics and "real life". I felt harsh as I tried to explain how her excellent high school education and three years at UNC-A hadn't really prepared her for the reality of spending her first summer off-campus.

We rely on the schools to teach our children reading, writing, math, science; yet as a parent we have to expand on that. Managing  money, finding a place to live, networking to find a job, how to stretch the last $20 in your pocket until your next payday.  We (hopefully) are responsible enough to fill in the blanks left by academics. Therein lies my topic for this month - how well do YOU bridge the gap between a controlled learning environment and the uncontrolled environment of life?

Some basic questions about the training we do in the workplace:

1. Who is ultimately responsible for bringing students from the academic or training environment forward through real-world application?
2. Does the curriculum you're using take real-world application into consideration? Were the "end-users" a part of the development process?
3. Does the curriculum allow reasonable latitude for instructors to bridge the gaps?
4. How do you allow instructional freedom yet retain instructional consistency?
5. Is performance of the training program actually measured against the end result, not just with regard to the training but in regard to the whole person and their job responsibilties?

In many ways, we are talking about outcome-based education. I've been hammered over my hard-headedness in this area.  To me, an "objective" means simply that you have achieved something specific and measurable at a moment in time. Most instructional programs use that word liberally. My favorite example of this is from a Fire Instructor text:  "The instructor candidate can identify three characteristics of ethical behavior."  Duh. It ranks right up there with "the student will be able to identify an instructor credential."  Let me see, that would be the one that has INSTRUCTOR written on it, maybe?

"Outcome" means that they have ownership of the major concepts and can apply them going forward; they can be just as specific but are often more difficult to measure. Nobody said training people was easy!  In the example above, I have no doubt the goal - the outcome - was for the Fire Instructor to actually BE an ethical instructor. Whether you met that outcome for your program can certainly be measured initially during the educational process using scenario-based questions or evolutions; but even more importantly it must be measured over time, after completion of the program.

Someone told me that outcomes were too academic a concept.  The fact is, outcomes are simpler and when constructed correctly, they should more accurately mirror the real world than a simple objective.  In one class, a list of about 30 objectives was replaced with five outcomes. Objectives are the academic throwback; outcomes are reality-based.

In fact, if you really want to know my opinion:  it doesn't matter what you call the statements you use to guide your program, as long as they are TRULY geared toward ensuring someone attending your training is prepared to function in reality.

I really wish somewhere in 15 years of schooling and 21 years of my parenting, I had helped bridge the understanding of the basic equation:
                  Income + Financial Aid = Expenses
Or maybe I'm the one being schooled in reality:
                  Income (Daughter) + Income (Dad) + Financial Aid  =  Expenses

Top-Down Training... Talladega Style

We often hear people talk about the importance of management not just providing, but being actively involved in training.  Like many training concepts, this can be difficult to illustrate and even harder to measure. This past weekend's NASCAR race at Talladega is an excellent example of how management's direct involvement pays off.

Here's a short clip showing a late-race incident involving Eric McClure (14).

Thanks to ESPN for the link to the video clip.  According to ESPN, an average of 3.5 million people were tuned in for the NASCAR Nationwide Series' Aaron's 312. That's a pretty large audience to have judging the effectiveness of your training. A couple of key points for anyone without an emergency services background:

1. The average "acceptable" response time to a 911 call - even a horrific motor vehicle collision - is under 8 minutes from the time of the call to units arriving on scene.
2. Medical personnel consider the first hour after a traumatic injury the "golden hour". Seriously injured patients delivered to a high-level trauma center within 60 minutes of injury have higher survival rates.
3. From the time of Eric McClure's impact until his arrival at the UAB Trauma Center was around 30 minutes. This includes the initial assessment, disincarceration/extrication, and aeromedical transport.

Talladega, in conjunction with NASCAR, provides training every year. A lot of people would call the emergency services and support staff there "volunteers" because they are not compensated as employees; in fact - the majority of the personnel are from career agencies across the southeast.  They are in every sense of the word, professionals. The individual providing medical care to a team member in the pits could have been answering 911 calls in Birmingham, Atlanta, or even Tallahassee the week before.

So why is this an example of top-down training?

First, look at Dr. Bobby Lewis, the track's medical director. Dr. Lewis is ultimately responsible for the medical care provided.  He participates in training each year, working with crews and conducting scenarios very similar to the one that played out during the race.  He knows virtually every person working both on the track and in the track's medical center, and responds to serious incidents.  He works with the staff to evaluate past incidents - looking for ways to improve. Dr. Lewis doesn't micro-manage; its about observation, support, intervention when necessary, and helping those around him improve.

To put that in perspective - it would be as if the Emergency Room physician personally trained the EMT and Paramedic on the ambulance that responds to your house for a medical call, responded to your house to assist in your care, then followed up with you a week later.

But it doesn't stop with Dr. Lewis. Jimmy McKee, the track's Emergency Services Coordinator and Andy McWilliams, the Director of Operations work directly with all of senior management. They train on everything from fence and asphalt repair to guest services and security.  The names are too many to list - everyone has a role with a specific job that they train for, and a role in supporting everyone else as they do other jobs.

Senior management doesn't just provide support in the form of a wink-and-nod.  When a place for training was needed due to a scheduling issue, they reached out to the Motorsports Hall of Fame and secured the building and grounds.

Their training isn't wasteful. They look for and take advantage of opportunities to turn a routine maintenance operation into a training evolution by asking "what if this was race day?"  They make excellent use of their institutional knowledge - the team that built the fence helps train everyone on how to fix the fence; Bob Harrington (NASCAR's Asphalt Guru and all-around super guy) trained the operations staff on care and repair of the asphalt after the track was resurfaced.

The fact that everyone in the media is focused on the fact Eric McClure was released from the hospital and this week's race in Darlington instead of on the performance of the Talladega crew is a testament to teamwork and top-down training. Great job, gang. Great job.