Thursday, August 28, 2008

Training, and a funny story

The field training program is the backbone of the department. At least that is what they told me in the field training instructor class. The field training supervisor at my station had asked me a few times to be a trainer, but I had always declined for a few reasons. First, since the department took away take home cars for the trainers, training just did not seem worth the hassle. Second, three weeks (the length of a training phase is 15 working days) can be a long time in a car with someone that you might or might not get along with. Third, I was content with being a patrol officer and I liked my routine. Well, my Maxima is 13 years old and might not make it another 13 years, so I decided to say yes when I was asked to be a trainer this past Spring. As a trainer we do get some incentive pay, so I thought that would help to off-set the future car payment.

After taking the field training instructor class and training some probationary officers (rookies), I am glad that my field training supervisor was persistent and/or desperate for trainers. So far I have enjoyed training. Which makes sense because I have always enjoyed teaching. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to teach a few undergraduate classes while I was in graduate school and I have taught some Bible studies over the years. All of my teaching experiences have been positive and fulfilling. Which is not to say that I think that I am a good teacher, in fact I always think that I have done a poor to mediocre job.

My first rookie was challenging. He is a good guy and passed evaluation, so he is now off probation and patrolling the streets on evening shift. However, he had a very difficult time with directions. Our first night, I asked what direction (north, south, east, west) we were going fifteen times and he got the answer correct once. Even just guessing he should get the correct answer 25% of the time with four choices. Not this rookie.
I tried a few different strategies with teaching him directions, and by the second week he was getting the correct answer 90% of the time. However, this did not cure all of his directional shortcomings. Every night after roll call and loading up the patrol car with out gear, we would go to the local Stop-n-Rob for a diet coke. From the station to the store there are two turns. Guess how many times he was able to drive straight to the store without needing help, yup, zero times. I am not sure how he makes it back to the station at the end of his shift by himself.

If the directionally impaired is my biggest challenge, I have it made.

Now on to the funny story. My current rookie, (well educated, 27, graduated high in her class, has been through 6 weeks of training so far) my first female rookie, and I answered a call for a possible counterfeit bill being passed at a Blockbuster Video store in our beat. We arrived and went inside to talk to the manager. He showed us the ten dollar bill. The rookie felt the bill and stated that it felt "wrong". The manager told us that his employee, after accepting the bill and after the customer had left the store, decided to try the marker on the bill. The employee said that the bill "felt funny" and the store has had problems with this customer in the past. The employee marked the bill with the marker and it marked brown on the bill. The marker will mark yellow for good currency and brown or gray for "questionable" currency. So the rookie thinks that we have counterfeit currency and starts asking the manager for his information and the suspects information for the report. I am thinking that none of us are experts on United States currency, but I know who is, the Secret Service. I asked the rookie whom she should call to find out what to do in this situation. She gave me a blank look which said enough for me. I told her to "go out to the shop (patrol car) and to call the Secret Service". She gave me a strange look and went out to the shop. About a minute later, she called my cell phone. That conversation went like this:

her "What did you want me to do?"
me "Type phone and then secret service into the MDT (mobile data terminal, the computer in the car) and then call the number." I can hear her typing.
her "Oh, there is a secret service." She thought that I was joking with the "Secret Service".
me "Yes, there is."
her "They are not very secret if they have a phone number."
me "No, they are not very secret."
her "Who do I ask for?"
me "The on duty special agent."
her "What do I ask him?"
me "Tell him what you have and what has been done and then ask him if he thinks that you have a counterfeit bill."
her "That is a good idea."
me "I know."

That reminded me of conversations that I have had with my seven year old.

She comes back into the store, picks up the bill in question, and calls the secret service. The phone call lasts a few minutes during which the manager and I talk about video game sales and recent robberies at other Blockbuster stores. After the call, the rookie triumphantly announces that the bill is in fact good currency. She then explained what the secret service agent told her to look for and how to hold the bill up to the light and what things in the bill you can see to tell if the bill is good or counterfeit. The manager then apologizes for wasting our time, which he did not and we returned to the shop. The rookie then asks what the secret service is and what they do. I asked her "who protects the president?" She says "the CIA". After I finished laughing, I went on to briefly explain to her what the various federal law enforcement agencies were and what they were tasked to accomplish. This call definitely helped to fulfill Rule #2 of policing, "you have to laugh".



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