Uprooted and Thriving by Bari Emam

Author:Bari Emam [Emam, Bari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780228809975
Publisher: Tellwell Talent
Published: 2021-10-18T10:29:47+00:00

My first day of training in police academy

It was during our first official day of class that I saw what they call a rigid drill Sergeant at work. Up to this point, I had only seen movies about this sort of a thing, mostly funny movies where a guy is yelling at the top of his lungs at a group of wide-eyed young men and women at some military facility to toughen them up. I didn’t think this type of thing happened, especially in a police training facility. Before applying for this job, I had educated myself on the function of police within Canadian society, so I expected that we would learn how to respectfully and effectively interact with people, solve problems, and build relationships with communities, among many other things.

Given the life I had been through this far, I was never one to sit stiff as a board, so I must have been looking too relaxed once the drill instructor walked into the class to give us the dress and deportment lecture. As a grown man sitting in a class full of other grown men and women, I was surprised that this instructor was talking to us like we were little kids. For the first bit of his lecture, I thought this was a joke and the guy would snap out of it and say something else, like: “This is an adult learning environment and if we are going to trust all of you to carry guns, make life and death decisions, and be responsible for affecting people’s lives in a significant way once you become police officers, then we trust that you know how to make your beds, iron your clothes and be respectful of others.” However, the drill instructor was not joking, so I began to worry a little about what the rest of the training might be like.

At one point during the drill instructor’s lecture, I smirked at one of his comments and looked around to see if anyone else felt the same way. He must have seen the look on my face. Minutes after, he walked up to me saying: “Elvis is dead, yes, he is dead. Did you get that? Elvis is dead.” I was about to say: “What is your problem and why are you telling me about Elvis?” My look of confusion got the attention of one of the instructors who was not a drill guy; he was a much kinder and more experienced and taught us legal studies and other theory-based materials. He caught my eye, then pointed to his sideburns. I quickly realized that the loud drill instructor was telling me that my sideburns were too long, and I probably should get a haircut to look the way they wanted everyone to look. I nodded my head in an effort not to upset the drill instructor anymore and he walked away.

He continued to go on about how, from this day on, we would do what we were told and when

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