By Martin Pollak
In January 2023, I was invited to join my department’s training unit full-time. After conversations with my mentor and my wife, I decided to leave my beloved street crimes unit of three years to take on a new challenge. I traded chasing cars and watching dope deals for chasing deadlines and watching PowerPoint presentations. While I miss the street dearly, nowhere else in my department do I have the opportunity to influence philosophy without stripes on my shoulders.
I made the jump in June 2023. Here are my initial impressions and lessons learned thus far. I hope they provide insight for future training officers.
Fraternization
A quick Google search of “police fraternization lawsuit” yields some disturbing, and ultimately expensive, mistakes fellow officers have made.
Fraternization for our purposes is any relationship between supervisors and subordinates that can lead to favoritism. The law enforcement instructor must be viewed as a supervisor by their students. The instructor holds a position of honor and must act accordingly.
Just as any integrity issue will compromise an officer’s ability to take the stand, any fraternization slip-up will compromise an instructor’s perception as an unbiased authority figure. This amounts to nothing short of a betrayal on the instructor’s part.
Law enforcement trainees place a great deal of trust in their instructor cadre. Think back to your first day at the academy. You arrived bright-eyed, naive and eager to learn. You examined every instructor to determine whether or not you wanted to be them one day.
This is a sacred responsibility that must be safeguarded. Remember, fraternization may not just take the form of romantic relationships. It could be something as simple as inviting students to a party. Seriously, don’t do it.
Philosophy
Just as a law enforcement agency’s philosophy on how best to serve the community can negatively impact the fight against crime, a training unit’s philosophy can negatively impact students. This has far-reaching implications for an agency, as today’s student is tomorrow’s officer and the next decade’s chief of police. A philosophy must be decided upon and agreed to by both the brass and the instructor cadre. If one of these critical groups isn’t on board, the training will suffer.
A training unit’s philosophy can be divided into multiple different camps. Does your agency host a paramilitary, live-in academy that takes place over the course of a few months? Or is your agency in a small beach town focused mainly on community-oriented policing? Each of these training philosophies requires different strategies, and your agency must examine exactly what type of officer it is trying to produce.
I suspect that most agencies, mine included, fall somewhere in between those two extremes. Remember, new hires come to your agency for a reason, so don’t be afraid to give them what they seek. Also, keep in mind that some classes require more or less of these two extremes than others. The fresh-faced, straight-out-of-the-academy rookie ready to save the world, often requires a different application of your respective philosophy than the 20-year HIDTA detective who only transferred agencies to finish out their state retirement.
The training unit is often the first impression an agency gives to a new or potential hire. They’re also the first line of defense for an agency against fielding individuals who are unfit for police work. Decide on a philosophy and implement it. Your agency and your students will be glad you did!
Instructor cadre
Just as an agency must identify which citizen would make the best officer during the interview process, it must take that one step further with their instructor cadre.
If you’ll indulge me, think back again to the fresh-faced academy rookie you once were. Were there instructors that you’d never want to back you up on a hot call? Heck, were there instructors that you wouldn’t even want to back you up eating a hot sandwich? Shy away from those folks as your instructors.
As a full-time instructor now, I have this feeling anytime I attend a class in which a crusty old retired officer stands in front and states, “I would NEVER be a cop in 2024 because of technology, public misperception, media, etc.” It’s a misguided attempt at support and it falls flat. I recently attended a course in which the lead instructor opened with that exact statement. I mentally checked out immediately.
For instructors, my agency utilizes a healthy mix of experienced senior officers, intellectuals, grizzled military veterans and motivated junior officers. The one thing we all have in common is that everyone is hungry to learn and to teach. We have all contributed to our organization’s specific training philosophy and programs. This allows our group of cops to show up and produce every single day. In the military parlance of my youth, we are locked, loaded and highly devoted. As corny as this sounds, our instructor cadre buying into our program allows our students to as well.
As previously stated, this group is often the first real interaction a new or prospective employee has with your agency. Due to this, your instructor cadre will influence your profession and your agency for generations. Choose wisely.
Supervision
Perhaps even more crucial than your instructor cadre is your instructor cadre’s supervision. The training unit’s supervision sets the tone for the entire experience. Just as the supervisor on the street often shields their squad from the negative aspects of an organization, the training unit supervisor must do the same. However, they face more administrative challenges and are more heavily scrutinized than those on the street.
The instructor’s supervisor must be able to balance the supervision of a squad, a whole gaggle of students, the needs of the department, scheduling for public events, human resource concerns, best hiring practices, funding requests — the list goes on. I used to believe a street supervisor’s job was complicated until I saw what my training supervision has to juggle.
At the brass level, instructor supervision must make their expectations known to both the instructor cadre and the students. While micro-management is frowned upon, showing your face for something as simple as a physical training qualification can mean the world to students. This exposure builds a relationship between the cadre and the brass as well, ultimately assisting in the decision-making process should a student need to be removed from your agency.
I truly believe the adage that there are no bad teams, only bad leaders. The training unit is no different. From what I’ve seen, military veterans and SWAT operators thrive at the corporal and sergeant levels for this type of position, albeit begrudgingly. Consider starting with these qualifications, or anyone who has experience with small unit tactics, when beginning your search for instructor supervision.
Ego
Police officers are expected to be go-getters, alphas, the proverbial “run toward the gunfire” type of folks. However, police officers also run the gamut of human beings. I’ve met accountants, PhDs, published poets, retired special forces and former federal law enforcement officers, all employed by my agency. What do you get when you combine driven people with varied experience levels? You get ego.
Ego has no place in a training environment. It is poisonous to education and an impediment to personal growth. In a world where a training unit has a short amount of time to teach the basics of street survival to a student, time is of the essence, and ego will devour that time.
Just as you safety check your students before entering a CQB course, it is your responsibility as an instructor to remove ego as much as possible. This same rule applies to the instructor cadre as well. An instructor with a massive ego can lead to the belittling of students, blatant safety violations, and the refusal to adopt new technologies and tactics. This is a road to ruin.
Keep in mind, “ego” is not the same thing as “pride.” Feeling a sense of accomplishment for the hard work of your unit and your students breeds the desire to continue that work. Pride in your work is a positive thing. Strive to check your ego at the door. You’ll be amazed at the heights you and your students can reach.
Judgment
Like many others reading this, I had a miserable experience during FTO. My Phase 1 FTO described learning to do police work as trying to “drink from a fire hose.” I quickly learned this analogy was accurate and accepted that my background in the military meant nothing in this new profession. If not for the belief of my Phase 4 (extension) FTO, I would not be writing this article now. Phase 4 FTO’s secret? He recognized that I was learning and, despite my MANY mistakes (including breaking the cup holder in his Crown Victoria), he sought to not judge my performance based on my lack of knowledge.
In my current position as an instructor, I often find myself in the same boat. Sometimes, I see a student making a decision that is so glaringly, blatantly, and painstakingly wrong that I am shocked to the point of amazement. However, I do not judge my students based on these mistakes. After all, they’re learning an entirely new skill set. It’s not my job to decide whether or not they will make it as police officers. It’s not even my job to determine whether or not they should have been hired in the first place. It’s my job to train them for the street. Some days this threshold is lower than others. Some days my bar is simply set at being satisfied that they won’t get themselves, or more importantly, me, killed.
I made a conscious decision at the beginning of this chapter of my career to not waste energy on lamenting specific hires. The agency I’ve devoted my professional life to saw something in every individual that passes through my unit. I owe it to my agency, my students, and myself to not judge the individual but rather to train them to the absolute best of my ability. Police work itself will, mostly, weed out the folks that shouldn’t be here regardless.
I see specific individuals who will make phenomenal sex crimes detectives but will never be the first one through the door during an active shooter situation. Simultaneously, I see individuals who are professional door kickers but will never, ever write a cell phone search warrant. The truth is, every agency needs both of these extremes. It is the instructor’s job to train, not to judge.
Positivity
Exposure and routine can turn the extraordinary into the mundane. It’s easy to forget, when we’re wrapped up in a work/life balance and teaching back-to-back classes, that it’s an honor to be in law enforcement. We get to drive fast, run, fight, shoot, and legitimately help our fellow citizens. It’s an even bigger honor to train the next generation to do all those things. Try to remind yourself of this fact once or twice a day. A positive attitude is contagious and will spread to your students and fellow cadre members.
These are some of the initial impressions and lessons learned from my first six months as an instructor. I respectfully offer them as simple ideas to keep in mind when designing your next class, should you be fortunate enough to join your agency’s training unit. We owe it to our students, and the citizens we serve, to improve every single day.
About the author
Martin Pollak is a military veteran and sworn law enforcement officer in the Tampa Bay area. He has served in multiple roles during his career including patrol, crime prevention, street crimes, and most recently as a training officer. Martin can often be found anywhere an awkward silence needs to be broken by levity. You can reach him at invalorthereishope@hotmail.com.