I have noticed something over the last few years that has alarmed me. To be honest it has made me reconsider what I do for a living, and wonder whether or not I should get out of teaching all together. It started just a couple of years ago, and has gotten steadily worse until the new critical mass it has achieved now. What is this career ending problem you ask?

Apathy.

Recent students in my program have little to no interest in EMS. It took me quite a while to put my finger on it, but that is what it is. The bigger question that will take a few more blog posts to flesh out is, “How did we get here?” I do have some thoughts on that, but I have to prove that there is a problem first.

Not long ago, I was teaching to a rabid audience of pro-EMS people who were chomping at the bit to be in the field. They were going out of their way to read extra books, and understand their assignments. I never had to push them to maintain interest. It was truly a joy to be a part of any paramedic class.

Then it started. Little by little.

I think I first noticed it during a class I taught in 2007 when a few students would actually raise their hand in class and ask, “Do we really need to know this?” I was confused by this question at first, and taken aback. I actually found myself taking time out of a lecture to explain why what I was teaching was important. To my amazement, the students pushed back and tried to convince me otherwise. I got pretty short with them, and tried to move on, but it became a regular question in every class.

Finally one day I blew up and went on a 15 minute rant. I won’t bore you with the whole thing, but it went something like this:

“Yep, that’s who I want coming to work on my family, a medic just like you.”

“What do you mean?” he asked defiantly.

“I want a medic that wants to know just enough to get by. I want a medic who is more concerned with what is on the test than what he needs to know. I want a medic who spent his whole time in school aiming for a grade of 80%, making sure that he knew just enough to get by. Do you want that kind of medic? Do you? Do you? I tell you what, I don’t even want anyone like that graduating from my class. If you feel like squeaking by in life, stop wasting my time and go flip burgers or sell used cars for a living.”

As you can imagine, that speech did not go over well. Since I originally gave that speech, I have started three other paramedic classes. The situation has now gotten so bad that I now give the speech at orientation. All my students are now told when class starts that the only stupid question a student can ask is, “Do I need to know this?” Any student who utters that phrase is met by an angry stare and my retort, “No, you don’t need to know that if you drop out of my class. Look behind you. There’s the door.”

But even though I have regained the semblance of respect in the classroom, I know that it is an act. They could really care less. They just know that the question angers me. I am a very introspective person. When problems like this come up, the first place I look for blame is the mirror in my bathroom. So I looked inward to see if I could relate to the experience. To my amazement I could almost immediately. I was like that right before I got into EMS. I was like that before I found a profession in which I was happy.

In a previous life I majored in English. In the pursuit of that degree, I had a bunch of jobs in other fields. One that was particularly painful was a job at a college textbook publishing house. I was the Ancillary Project Editor of a bunch of workbooks to other texts. It was common to show up to my cubicle and find a 1200 page manuscript piled upon my desk, covered in sticky note pads that represented changes in copy that I had to make. I hated that job. I hated it with every fiber of my being.

But there were those who loved it. Have you ever met a book worm? You haven’t until you have been in publishing. There are people that revere books. It is like entering a religious cult. There are editors that can tell you what page in the Chicago Manual of Style contains the rules for crediting a trade periodical in a bibliography. There are people who can read three to five manuscript pages per minute while accurately editing for typos. This person was not me. I did not care.

During the course of that job I often found myself asking, “Do I need to know this?”

Our profession has been invaded by a bunch of people who don’t really want to be here. With that in mind I searched back in my brain to see if it was the fire based personnel who mostly do this. I had to admit, it started with them. But it is uniform across the board now. No one wants to be here. I even get this attitude from students who work for an urban third city 911 service. How messed up if that?

The question now becomes, “How on earth did so many people who have no interest in this extreme and low paying profession wind up here?” That, my friends, is the source of another blog post. The answer to this problem is yet another. None of it will be pretty. Until then, let me know what you think. According to the statistics, a few people are reading this, but no one is commenting. What do you all think? Do you want to be here? Do you need to know this?