Trainers, Check Your Ego At The Door
21 August 2006
I recently had a "discussion" called to my attention that was on-going between two prominent trainers in the military and law enforcement industry. From one trainer's perspective too much training was developed and delivered specifically tailored for the "lowest common denominator" - those students who might not be as highly motivated, as capable of grasping concepts, or as coordinated in their thought/action abilities. From the other trainer's perspective training that was developed and delivered to push students beyond their capabilities was defeatist and left too many students feeling like failures, or unable to perform adequately. As an experienced law enforcement trainer who has also delivered training to Department of Defense and other military personnel (National Guard members), as well as State, County and Local law enforcement professionals, and having done so for more than 17 years now, I felt like I wanted to weigh in on the issue.
As a prior-service military veteran, there are two philosophies of training that I was made familiar with early on in my uniformed career:
1) Crawl, Walk, Run: What this means is that when you're learning a new skill, or teaching a new skill, the approach has to be slow. The student needs to understand each step and be able to perform it correctly before attempting the next step. This is especially important if the skills are foundational. In other words, if the successful completion of follow-on skills is dependent on the successful completion of the skill your learning first, then things can't be rushed. Making a mistake in the first, second, or third skill (and so on) will automatically dictate failure when the student attempts those follow-on skills. Just as a child first learns enough balance to sit up, and then crawl, and then stand up, and then walk and then (eventually) run, the student of combat arms needs to learn slowly at first and then develop follow-on skills. Crawl... Walk... Run.
2) I do. We do. You do: As an instructor this means that I need to demonstrate the skill, or collection of skills, first and in such a manner and at a particular pace to insure that the student can observe in detail what I'm doing, the order I'm doing different steps in, and what the desired outcome is. Sometimes this has to be repeated. This is the "I do" step. Then "we do" the skill together. That means the student carefully steps through the process of completing the skill(s) at whatever pace he is comfortable with and with me coaching him along as his trainer. Then, when necessary corrections have been made, he demonstrates his ability to complete the skill(s) at a faster pace and without mistakes, and therefore without correction.
When you combine these two philosophies you get a good idea of what is required to teach new skills to students coming into the tactical environment. For the purpose of this article, a "tactical environment" is any environment wherein the surrounding circumstances may present high risk, or unknown risk, and each action has to be calculated to minimize that risk to the operator. Simply put, high risk conditions.
As a trainer, I should demonstrate the skills being trained slowly at first, and then at a moderate pace and then at the desired target speed. I do. Crawl. Walk. Run. Then I coach the student through the skills, slowly at first and with increasing speed as he masters them. We do. Crawl. Walk. Run. And finally, he demonstrates the skill(s) by himself at the desired pace, or until he can perform them at the desired pace. You do. Crawl. Walk. Run.
This seems so simple, but I've noticed - and this was made clear in the recent discussion noted in the opening paragraph - that some trainers are so busy showing off how good they are that they forget the main purpose of training: to pass along those skills. Why? Because they failed to Check Their Ego At The Door.
As an operator - in my case, as a law enforcement professional - my skills are at a certain level. There are definitely people more skilled than I and I'm pretty confident that there are people whose skills are not equal to mine... they are less than mine. As a veteran law enforcement trainer I've delivered training to classrooms full of people - groups composed of people from both categories: more skilled and less skilled. As the trainer responsible for teaching skills in that group, rather than trying to prove than I'm better than everyone in the room, it would makes sense for me to leverage the skills of those who might be better than me, and gain their coaching assistance in developing the rest of the group.
Two things I have to be sure not to do:
1) I have to make sure I don't waste the group's time, and mine, trying to prove that I'm better than all of them. Whether I am or not is irrelevant. I don't HAVE to be better than everyone to teach a particular topic. All I have to do is meet the criteria set by the State of Maryland to be an instructor and then be assigned as an instructor for my police agency. Is it silly for me to try to teach, say, Advanced First-Aid to a cop in the class who I know is a volunteer paramedic at the local firehosue in his off-duty time? Yes. But rather than bowing to my ego and trying to show how much more I know than he, it would be much more beneficial if I were to use him to assist me with demonstrations, clarifications, etc.
2) I have to make sure that I don't select the person in the room who has what I perceive as the lowest chance of successfully completing the program, and "dumb the program down" for him. Again, the discussion I note above was all about this particular topic: training to the lowest common denominator. It's an "accepted reality" in police training that the course can only be as difficult as the least skilled student can successfully complete. Isn't that shameful? We alter our training to make sure the lowest skilled guy in the group can pass... but we never push the limits of anyone else. As the trainer, it's my job and my duty to push everyone in the class to improve the limits of their skills. To do that I have to figure out what those skills are and make sure I'm not competing with them.
The title of this article, "Trainers: Check Your Ego At The Door" specifically addresses the need to insure we, as trainers, don't compete with our students. Competition isn't our job. We always should be able to adequately demonstrate the skills we teach - as listed in the two training philosophies above - but we should never be busy trying to make sure we're always better than everyone in the room. All we succeed in doing at that point is making everyone else in the room feel insulted... less proud... less capable...
Let me give you one specific example I can think of as it was related to me:
A class on low-light tactics is set up by a well-known handgun competition shooter. Knowing that he's not very familiar with low-light tactics, but is exceptionally well versed in managing a handgun, he contacts someone who does know a lot about low-light tactics and asks him to come help teach the class. He accepts. During the class, a field of barricades is set up so that the students in the class can try out varous tactics and team skills in a force-on-force paintball training environment. When the time comes to get the students out on the field, the competition shooter decides that rather than let teams go against each other - AS DICTATED IN THE CURRICULUM - he's going to go up against them himself. At times he's packing two guns and shooting plenty of paintballs as he faces teams of two, three and four trainees. As he's an exceptional shot and can shoot amazingly fast, he does a good job of mowing down the trainees. The problem is that, while he's proving to all of them how good he is, none of them are getting to try out and evaluate the various skills they'd been taught throughout the program. That trainer had failed to check his ego at the door.
Do you?
21 August 2006
I recently had a "discussion" called to my attention that was on-going between two prominent trainers in the military and law enforcement industry. From one trainer's perspective too much training was developed and delivered specifically tailored for the "lowest common denominator" - those students who might not be as highly motivated, as capable of grasping concepts, or as coordinated in their thought/action abilities. From the other trainer's perspective training that was developed and delivered to push students beyond their capabilities was defeatist and left too many students feeling like failures, or unable to perform adequately. As an experienced law enforcement trainer who has also delivered training to Department of Defense and other military personnel (National Guard members), as well as State, County and Local law enforcement professionals, and having done so for more than 17 years now, I felt like I wanted to weigh in on the issue.
As a prior-service military veteran, there are two philosophies of training that I was made familiar with early on in my uniformed career:
1) Crawl, Walk, Run: What this means is that when you're learning a new skill, or teaching a new skill, the approach has to be slow. The student needs to understand each step and be able to perform it correctly before attempting the next step. This is especially important if the skills are foundational. In other words, if the successful completion of follow-on skills is dependent on the successful completion of the skill your learning first, then things can't be rushed. Making a mistake in the first, second, or third skill (and so on) will automatically dictate failure when the student attempts those follow-on skills. Just as a child first learns enough balance to sit up, and then crawl, and then stand up, and then walk and then (eventually) run, the student of combat arms needs to learn slowly at first and then develop follow-on skills. Crawl... Walk... Run.
2) I do. We do. You do: As an instructor this means that I need to demonstrate the skill, or collection of skills, first and in such a manner and at a particular pace to insure that the student can observe in detail what I'm doing, the order I'm doing different steps in, and what the desired outcome is. Sometimes this has to be repeated. This is the "I do" step. Then "we do" the skill together. That means the student carefully steps through the process of completing the skill(s) at whatever pace he is comfortable with and with me coaching him along as his trainer. Then, when necessary corrections have been made, he demonstrates his ability to complete the skill(s) at a faster pace and without mistakes, and therefore without correction.
When you combine these two philosophies you get a good idea of what is required to teach new skills to students coming into the tactical environment. For the purpose of this article, a "tactical environment" is any environment wherein the surrounding circumstances may present high risk, or unknown risk, and each action has to be calculated to minimize that risk to the operator. Simply put, high risk conditions.
As a trainer, I should demonstrate the skills being trained slowly at first, and then at a moderate pace and then at the desired target speed. I do. Crawl. Walk. Run. Then I coach the student through the skills, slowly at first and with increasing speed as he masters them. We do. Crawl. Walk. Run. And finally, he demonstrates the skill(s) by himself at the desired pace, or until he can perform them at the desired pace. You do. Crawl. Walk. Run.
This seems so simple, but I've noticed - and this was made clear in the recent discussion noted in the opening paragraph - that some trainers are so busy showing off how good they are that they forget the main purpose of training: to pass along those skills. Why? Because they failed to Check Their Ego At The Door.
As an operator - in my case, as a law enforcement professional - my skills are at a certain level. There are definitely people more skilled than I and I'm pretty confident that there are people whose skills are not equal to mine... they are less than mine. As a veteran law enforcement trainer I've delivered training to classrooms full of people - groups composed of people from both categories: more skilled and less skilled. As the trainer responsible for teaching skills in that group, rather than trying to prove than I'm better than everyone in the room, it would makes sense for me to leverage the skills of those who might be better than me, and gain their coaching assistance in developing the rest of the group.
Two things I have to be sure not to do:
1) I have to make sure I don't waste the group's time, and mine, trying to prove that I'm better than all of them. Whether I am or not is irrelevant. I don't HAVE to be better than everyone to teach a particular topic. All I have to do is meet the criteria set by the State of Maryland to be an instructor and then be assigned as an instructor for my police agency. Is it silly for me to try to teach, say, Advanced First-Aid to a cop in the class who I know is a volunteer paramedic at the local firehosue in his off-duty time? Yes. But rather than bowing to my ego and trying to show how much more I know than he, it would be much more beneficial if I were to use him to assist me with demonstrations, clarifications, etc.
2) I have to make sure that I don't select the person in the room who has what I perceive as the lowest chance of successfully completing the program, and "dumb the program down" for him. Again, the discussion I note above was all about this particular topic: training to the lowest common denominator. It's an "accepted reality" in police training that the course can only be as difficult as the least skilled student can successfully complete. Isn't that shameful? We alter our training to make sure the lowest skilled guy in the group can pass... but we never push the limits of anyone else. As the trainer, it's my job and my duty to push everyone in the class to improve the limits of their skills. To do that I have to figure out what those skills are and make sure I'm not competing with them.
The title of this article, "Trainers: Check Your Ego At The Door" specifically addresses the need to insure we, as trainers, don't compete with our students. Competition isn't our job. We always should be able to adequately demonstrate the skills we teach - as listed in the two training philosophies above - but we should never be busy trying to make sure we're always better than everyone in the room. All we succeed in doing at that point is making everyone else in the room feel insulted... less proud... less capable...
Let me give you one specific example I can think of as it was related to me:
A class on low-light tactics is set up by a well-known handgun competition shooter. Knowing that he's not very familiar with low-light tactics, but is exceptionally well versed in managing a handgun, he contacts someone who does know a lot about low-light tactics and asks him to come help teach the class. He accepts. During the class, a field of barricades is set up so that the students in the class can try out varous tactics and team skills in a force-on-force paintball training environment. When the time comes to get the students out on the field, the competition shooter decides that rather than let teams go against each other - AS DICTATED IN THE CURRICULUM - he's going to go up against them himself. At times he's packing two guns and shooting plenty of paintballs as he faces teams of two, three and four trainees. As he's an exceptional shot and can shoot amazingly fast, he does a good job of mowing down the trainees. The problem is that, while he's proving to all of them how good he is, none of them are getting to try out and evaluate the various skills they'd been taught throughout the program. That trainer had failed to check his ego at the door.
Do you?
