An Open Letter To My EMT Classmates
Hello Dear Readers, this post is not for you. That being said, you still might find some value here.
As of yesterday, I passed my EMT National Registry assessments. And I have to tell you, I felt good. In fact, I was more excited to hear 'Congratulations, you passed!' from the state man and walking out to see my proud instructor than when I walked across the stage at UW Madison. I wanted to give both the statesman and teach a big hug - but 'Rona reminded me to stand awkwardly with a big shit-eating grin. So I settled for that. But that excitement is not why I'm writing this - it's the reason behind the excitement. This post is about the months of preparation and the dysfunctional family that I've come to love. So if you're one of the members, thank you.
First off, anything worth having takes sacrifice. EMT cost me a lot of grey hairs over several months of class. Initially, I severely underestimated how much time I needed to dedicate to it. As a hotshot 4-year degree computer engineer, I thought I could just skate through this course. Nope. It became clear that was not going to work. So I changed my tactic. I vowed to myself that I would take it seriously and learn as much as possible so that I could lead the class by example. I ended up dedicating a lot of time to becoming an EMT, and like most things in life - you get out what you put in. My investment paid me back in full yesterday by hearing that not only I passed, but my classmates did as well. This leads me to the most important part of my classroom journey - the people.
I was the oldest in our class at the ripe old age of 25. At this point, it has been over three years since I've been in a classroom, and now I'm the most senior. How was I going to relate?! Well, after a while, it turned out to be pretty easy. Strike that, relating was hard, but it was extremely easy to get along. I became the dad of the class (well, co-dad, (co-mom?)). I knew that they trusted me, and I think they looked up to me. The course did not start out fun, but by the end, I was excited to come in every chance I could. And that wasn't primarily to hone my skills as an EMT - it was to be with, and help this lovable lot of misfits. I came to love these kids. Seriously. With 'Rona going on and me working predominantly on my own - they got me through a very tough, lonely time - and for that, I will always be thankful. I truly hope they all succeed in their future endeavors, and if they ever want, they all know how to get a hold of me.
I also wanted to quickly thank the instructors and staff as well - their insights have been paramount in our success. Thank you.
Alright, dear readers, this one is short and bittersweet, but I did want to leave you with a thought. How could I become this emotionally attached to a group that I knew for only a handful of months? Well, it's a principle that I've known for a while. When you fight in the metaphorical trenches with others, you get close to them. Through periods of pain, suffering, and relief, you see people at their most raw; their most vulnerable. And they get to see you. That cycle builds a level of intimacy and trust rarely found in the wild. So dear readers, if you genuinely want to love someone, fight in the trenches with them... or, at the very least, allow yourself to be vulnerable.
