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The school year is back in swing, and while I’m now on extra-super-secret-double-part-time (a little-known codicil in the modern working world’s constitution), I still have to complete some mandatory trainings each year. These trainings are rarely interesting, but nor are they particularly onerous; they’re just the boxes one has to check to appease that dread fiend Liability.
For example, each year my colleagues and I go through mandated OSHA bloodborne pathogens training. It’s a simple presentation reviewing procedures for dealing with a child (or anyone) bleeding all over a classroom. Believe it or not, that kind of thing does happen, although not for the grisly reasons readers’ minds might be conjuring up. It’s usually something benign: an unexpected nosebleed (yours portly had his share of those in high school) or a skinned knee. One time a pianist had a stubborn hangnail that got caught while playing and he bled all over the baby grand piano (it was pretty metal).
We also go through active shooter training, which is a grim reminder of the godless dystopia we currently inhabit. It’s useful to be reminded that the world is fallen and that there are truly wicked people out there. It’s also a reminder that law enforcement often view everything from the absolute worst-case scenario (“that big window is a death trap!”), which I suppose makes sense, given that they interact with the fallout of worst-case scenarios everyday.
This year I just had to attend a handful of these mandatory trainings, included the two mentioned above. However, due to a miscommunication from my admin, I attended an additional training that, were I still a classroom teacher, might have offered some marginal utility. Even in my new role as Chaplain, it had some relevant insights.
However, as with many such “professional development opportunities,” it presented something of a microcosm with everything that is wrong with the teaching profession.
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