Rookieworld. Tradition and Being a Legacy

I remember my first day of EMT school. 

I walked in, registered, and sat down. And then everyone recognized who I was. 

Pretty soon, all the instructors were crowding me, saying, “Wow! You’re going to be a great EMT, just like your dad!” 

“This class is going to be so easy for you!” 

“What do you think Dad will say if you fail out?” 

I took this EMT class the summer before I started every pre-med’s worst nightmare of two straight semesters of organic chemistry. But I still maintain that this EMT class was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. 

It was something totally brand new to me, which I enjoyed. 

However, everyone kept holding me to unattainable standards, just because of who I was related to. 

Soon, that initial buzz of “Do you know whose kid that is?” died out and was replaced with: 

“You didn’t know that? Why didn’t your father teach you that already?” 

“What are you doing?” 

In class, I just wanted to be Caroline. I wanted to be recognized for what I did, and not be coddled or put on a pedestal just because all of the instructors knew my father. 

I wanted the instructors to know that how I did in the class wasn’t because of who my dad was, but because of my own merits. If I failed, I failed, and I would try again at the next opportunity if that’s what my journey as an EMT student came down to.  

I failed one test throughout the entire class, and sure enough, all of the instructors were shocked, to say the least. 

“I can’t believe you failed.” 

“This test was so easy!” 

But I studied my butt off for the retake, and I passed. I got to move on. 

I had just turned 19, yet I couldn’t understand why everyone couldn’t leave me alone, and just let me be me. It was a few months into the class at this point, and I thought that if they hadn’t gotten the message to see Caroline, not my dad, then their lives (and mine) would be a heck of a lot easier. 

I survived, I graduated the class, and I moved forward to continue on my journey. 

Six months after I graduated, I took the NREMT, and I failed. All of those negative thoughts from class came back to me: 

“You failed? How?” 

“What happened?” 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

A few months after that, I buckled down, passed my NREMT exam, and found a squad to call home. I started riding on an ambulance as soon as I could… in the same county as Dad. 

Pretty much everyone in EMS in the county knew who he was. Older EMTs, paramedics, and even some of the police officers and firefighters. 

I had a few months of true anonymity before everyone started figuring out whose kid I was, because I didn’t have my name on any of my uniforms. But this time, something was different. 

In those few golden months, I was able to be me, not my dad’s kid. 

I’m normally introverted, so being an EMT has allowed me to go outside of my comfort zone and also to have more confidence in myself. My dream of being recognized for me and what I do was finally coming true. I had started gaining the trust of those around me, and my friends and I at my squad have made a ton of memories, both on the ambulance and off. 

It’s hard being a “legacy” in the world of EMS. It’s a lot of unwanted pressure, and a lot more undesired attention. Everyone is watching and judging you as they’re watching you work. At the same time, they’re telling your dad your every move. 

It’s definitely not easy, and it’s not something I really asked for. 

So with that in mind, I have some things I’d like to address: 

First: EMS instructors at any level, if you have a legacy in your midst, give them some space. 

Yeah sure, that initial shock of “Oh my gosh, do you know who they’re related to?” is going to happen. But after that dies down, just move on with your lives, and let them move on with theirs. 

Second: Whether it’s in the classroom or in the field, don’t hold them to the same expectation as their relative. 

My Dad and I are completely different people; our strengths and weaknesses are not the same. It took Dad around 15 years, as he says, to get to the level of proficiency that he is at now. Just because I’m related to him doesn’t automatically make me as good as he is. 

I’m going to need time as well. 

Third: Have some patience. 

I’m still relatively new to all this EMT stuff. But I want to learn more. 

Everyone in EMS knows that it’s so much different in the field than in the classroom, so there’s a bit of an adjustment period. 

But speaking from the perspective of a new EMT, I can say that there’s a lot that I definitely need more practice with that they don’t teach you in EMT school. 

I’m just trying to do the right thing for my patient. 

And finally: I’m happy to be a part of the team. 

Everyone talks about how much EMS is a “brotherhood,” a family, and a team. 

Paramedics, how can we act like a team; or even learn, if you get angry that we kept you on a “BS” call? Or if years of burnout have caught up with you and you just don’t care anymore? 

Or if you’re working with a “legacy” and they’re trying to learn, but you won’t help them learn because they’re a legacy and should know better? 

Especially if you’re working with younger people like me, you should know that you have a role in teaching the next generation of EMTs and medics alike, no matter if they are a “legacy” or not. 

And even though I’m technically a legacy, I want people to recognize me for me. 

My dad and I share a last name, but we’re totally different people. 

So, to all the people who say, “Oh, I know your Dad!”, I have something to say. 

I’m not my Dad. 

I’m Caroline.

And that should be good enough.