The Great Wall of Popat: A Journal of a Lesbian’S Adventures Getting Through Police Academy

By Kendall Austin Pardo and Melisa Mel

At a time when most women my age are planning for retirement and maybe
taking up hobbies that are a little less aggressive, I decided to go into law
enforcement. Okay . . . . so doing what is expected of me is not my pattern
of life. I enjoy adventures and the more impossible that they seem, the harder I will
tackle them. Basically, it boiled down to the fact that years before, I had missed
my window of opportunity to join the military. I had been a military brat and so
joining the service would have been my wish but I had been a young mother and
had to start work at a young age. I would never change the life I had with my four
wonderful children. However now I was 42 years old and they were all grown up. I
had just found out, through a turn of events, that there was no age limit for joining
the police department. As long as one could keep up with the physical and academic
requirements, then they were welcome to join.
Additionally, I had felt that I was living on borrowed time since I was 15 years
old when Id come as close to facing the vulnerability of being human as one can do
without passing over to the non-living side. Soon after surviving, I had to face my
own decision of moving on or finishing myself off. I made a choice and it was to live
and to be happy. I wanted my days to count. I wanted to serve others who had gone
through similar experiences. I wanted to lead a life with my head up.
At the time that I applied for the academy, I was a special education teacher
working with young adults who had aggressive and severe disabilities. I was running
an after school Gay, Straight Alliance diversity club and was a mentor to many
students. I had devoted all my life to children and youth. I had been a troubled child
for a variety of reasons. I knew the pains that could come with childhoodmany
pains to which children should never have to be exposed. I had always felt that I
had to give back and try to be there for kids and others who could not speak up for
themselves. Doing this was a priority to me.
In addition to my full time teaching job with my school district, I was
volunteering in a couple of capacities with the local Police department. I had first
become a Victim Services Volunteer with them. Victim Services Volunteers are called
at any time of day or night to go out and provide assistance to those who have been
pa g e | 14
Me l i s a Me l
victimized in some way. I never knew to what kind of call I would be going. It could
be anything from a family member who had woken up to find their loved one had
died during the night, a parent whose young adult child had overdosed on drugs, or a
family whose home had burnt down. Regardless of the situation, the victim or victims
needed support and resources.
As a supplement to our 32 hour training, it was suggested that we do ride-alongs.
I had never heard of a ride-along. A ride-along is literally when you ride along with
an officer to get a taste of what it is like to be out on patrol. You have to sign a waiver
indicating that you understand that there is a certain amount of danger involved but
that you do not hold the police department responsible.
For a mix of reasons, I was rather nervous about riding along in a police car with an
officer. What made me most uncomfortable was the thought that I would have to sit in
close proximity with a stranger. I did not even know if we could talk as I did not know
if it was allowed. I feared it might distract the officers from their duties. Ever so much
into training and wanting to learn all that I could about my new position, I scheduled a
ride-along. I figured that just like with everything else in life, I would get the hang of it
once I was there. I am very straightforward and like things to be clearly understood. I
would have no problem simply asking the officer what was and was not ok.
The officer with whom I was assigned to ride-along with was Officer Gabriel. I
started out our ride-a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483667621

Kendall Austin Pardo

Melisa Mel was the Founder, CEO, and President of her company From Victim to Survivor, LLC. Upon its retirement after three extremely successful years, she then went on to become the Founder of Mels Voice on Paper. This is the platform from which she promotes her publications. She works extensively with First Responders, Perpetrators, and Victims of sexual assault as well as victims of other violent crimes. Her preference is to be addressed simply as Mel. Mel taught English, Spanish, Severe Disabilities, and Prison populations for over thirty years. She then transitioned her focus to LGBT issues, policing issues, first responder issues and vulnerable populations. She has published many books and is currently working on her next project. She holds a BA in English, an MA in English as a Second Language, an MA in Special Education/Education, and a PhD ABD in Psychology. As a successful business person and one who has worked extensively with people in unhealthy relationships, Mel knows well that the simple lesson found in the pages of The Fabric Store is a lesson that is vital for growth. Sometimes time, money, and heart are just not enough. There are many factors that can come into play that can affect ones success. Good recordkeeping and constant reassessment of how one is doing are both critical for one to be able to make wise decisions. Mel has had to make some extremely tough and painful decisions in her own business life and in her personal life. Bold decision-making and strong follow-through have made Mel the success that she is today. Over the years, Mel has been nominated for various national awards for her work with victims, her philanthropy, her teaching, and her writing. She was recently awarded the 2017 Arizona Beth McDonald Woman of the Year Award and the Triumph Over Tragedy Award from Arizona Governor Doug Ducey.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Melisa Mel.

Library of Congress Control Number:            2013912587

               ISBN:            Hardcover         978-1-4836-6764-5

Softcover          978-1-4836-6763-8

                                     Ebook               978-1-4836-6762-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 09/10/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

133859

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO:

My dear friend and role model who reminds me of what every cop should be and the kind of cop I strive to be—Officer Gabriel

AND

The efficient and noble people who put so much heart into training us to become safe officers with a high degree of integrity—the Academy Staff

AND

The love of my life, who came into my life when I needed her the most and complements me in every way imaginable—Anita.

AND

Those who had to live with me and put up with my daily adventures and worries while being supportive the entire time—my children and their families.

AND

Those who had to work with me day in and day out—Barb, Phyllis, Rosie and Lorraine

AND

My first grandson who was born during my academy days—Theo

AND

Those who created me in the first place to even make this adventure possible at all—my parents.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF:

Kent W. Post                       24 May 1963 - 15 Aug 2012

Valerie Marie Aratico         29 Sept 1972 - 18 Aug 2012

Shirley Perow                     9 May 1950 - 29 Aug 2012

Harvey L. Miller Jr.           19 Nov 1953 - 14 Sept 2012

TO LIVE STRONG IN THE HEARTS OF THOSE WHO

LOVED US . . . IS TO NEVER DIE

My CLASS—2012

Staff:

Our Director

Our Lieutenant

Our Recruit Training Officer (RTO)

Our Administrative Assistant

Recruits:

20 brave men

4 brave women

(Names were left out of the text for the privacy and safety of all officers)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 - APPLYING TO ACADEMY—01/20/12

CHAPTER 2 - ORIENTATION

CHAPTER 3 - WEEK ONE

CHAPTER 4 - WEEK TWO

CHAPTER 5 - WEEK THREE

CHAPTER 6 - WEEK FOUR

CHAPTER 7 - WEEK FIVE

CHAPTER 8 - WEEK SIX

CHAPTER 9 - WEEK SEVEN

CHAPTER 10 - WEEK EIGHT

CHAPTER 11 - WEEK NINE

CHAPTER 12 - WEEK TEN

CHAPTER 13 - WEEK ELEVEN

CHAPTER 14 - WEEK TWELVE

CHAPTER 15 - WEEK THIRTEEN

CHAPTER 16 - WEEK FOURTEEN

CHAPTER 17 - WEEK FIFTEEN

CHAPTER 18 - WEEK SIXTEEN

CHAPTER 19 - WEEK SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER 20 - WEEK EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER 21 - WEEK NINETEEN

CHAPTER 22 - WEEK TWENTY

CHAPTER 23 - WEEK TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER 24 - WEEK TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER 25 - WEEK TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER 26 - WEEK TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER 27 - WEEK TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER 28 - SUNDAY, 12/23/12

CHAPTER 29 - MONDAY, 12/24/12

CHAPTER 30 - TUESDAY, 12/25/12

CHAPTER 31 - WEDNESDAY, 12/26/12

CHAPTER 32 - THURSDAY, 12/27/12

CHAPTER 33 - FRIDAY, 12/28/12

CHAPTER 34 - SATURDAY, 12/29/12

CHAPTER 35 - SUNDAY, 12/30/12

CHAPTER 36 - MONDAY, 12/31/12

CHAPTER 37 - TUESDAY, 01/01/13

CHAPTER 38 - WEDNESDAY, 01/02/13

CHAPTER 39 - THURSDAY, 01/03/13

CHAPTER 40 - FRIDAY, 01/04/13

CHAPTER 41 - SATURDAY, 01/05/13

CHAPTER 42 - SUNDAY, 01/06/13

CHAPTER 43 - MONDAY, 01/07/13

CHAPTER 44 - THE GREAT DAY OF POPAT—01/08/13

REFLECTIONS, CHANGES, AND UPDATES

MEMOS

STUDY GUIDES AND FORMS

CHAPTER 1

APPLYING TO ACADEMY—01/20/12

A t a time when most women my age are planning for retirement and maybe taking up hobbies that are a little less aggressive, I decided to go into law enforcement. Okay… . so doing what is expected of me is not my pattern of life. I enjoy adventures and the more impossible that they seem, the harder I will tackle them. Basically, it boiled down to the fact that years before, I had missed my window of opportunity to join the military. I had been a military brat and so joining the service would have been my wish but I had been a young mother and had to start work at a young age. I would never change the life I had with my four wonderful children. However now I was 42 years old and they were all grown up. I had just found out, through a turn of events, that there was no age limit for joining the police department. As long as one could keep up with the physical and academic requirements, then they were welcome to join.

Additionally, I had felt that I was living on borrowed time since I was 15 years old when I’d come as close to facing the vulnerability of being human as one can do without passing over to the non-living side. Soon after surviving, I had to face my own decision of moving on or finishing myself off. I made a choice and it was to live and to be happy. I wanted my days to count. I wanted to serve others who had gone through similar experiences. I wanted to lead a life with my head up.

At the time that I applied for the academy, I was a special education teacher working with young adults who had aggressive and severe disabilities. I was running an after school Gay, Straight Alliance diversity club and was a mentor to many students. I had devoted all my life to children and youth. I had been a troubled child for a variety of reasons. I knew the pains that could come with childhood—many pains to which children should never have to be exposed. I had always felt that I had to give back and try to be there for kids and others who could not speak up for themselves. Doing this was a priority to me.

In addition to my full time teaching job with my school district, I was volunteering in a couple of capacities with the local Police department. I had first become a Victim Services Volunteer with them. Victim Services Volunteers are called at any time of day or night to go out and provide assistance to those who have been victimized in some way. I never knew to what kind of call I would be going. It could be anything from a family member who had woken up to find their loved one had died during the night, a parent whose young adult child had overdosed on drugs, or a family whose home had burnt down. Regardless of the situation, the victim or victims needed support and resources.

image1.jpg

As a supplement to our 32 hour training, it was suggested that we do ride-alongs. I had never heard of a ride-along. A ride-along is literally when you ride along with an officer to get a taste of what it is like to be out on patrol. You have to sign a waiver indicating that you understand that there is a certain amount of danger involved but that you do not hold the police department responsible.

For a mix of reasons, I was rather nervous about riding along in a police car with an officer. What made me most uncomfortable was the thought that I would have to sit in close proximity with a stranger. I did not even know if we could talk as I did not know if it was allowed. I feared it might distract the officers from their duties. Ever so much into training and wanting to learn all that I could about my new position, I scheduled a ride-along. I figured that just like with everything else in life, I would get the hang of it once I was there. I am very straightforward and like things to be clearly understood. I would have no problem simply asking the officer what was and was not ok.

The officer with whom I was assigned to ride-along with was Officer Gabriel. I started out our ride-along by informing him that I was not there for him to feel like he had to entertain me. I would observe and stay out of the way. He just had to tell me what he wanted me to do or not do and that would be how it would happen. I would not bug him with small talk and did not expect him to feel that he had to fill the silence. I stated this in the hope that it would ease any concerns he had about my being in his patrol car with him for hours. When his eyebrow rose and he kind of looked at me like he was starting to wonder what planet I had landed in from, I realized that maybe I had been a little too blunt and forward.

Looking back, I can see how blessed I was to have had my very first ride-along be with Officer Gabriel. He was a gentleman and I came to appreciate and respect him very much. He did not seem to mind having a gal riding along who knew pretty much nothing about police work. He guided me in correct protocol and made sure I felt safe at all times. We not only came to talk, but I felt like I had found a kindred spirit. The ride-along led to a friendship that eventually became an important part of my everyday life.

As it turned out, Officer Gabriel was also in charge of the Police Explorer program at our police department. My oldest son, Jonathan Dallas, had attended the Fire Explorer program years before and had then gone on to become a firefighter. I had great respect for programs such as this one that trained and prepared youth for their future careers. I asked Officer Gabriel if I could go to one of his police explorer meetings simply to become familiar with another one of our police department’s program. He was fine with it. That very week I was there meeting all the youth and getting to see their program. I enjoyed it immensely.

My friendship with Officer Gabriel grew and I came to admire his style of policing. He was firm when he had to be but knew how to balance kindness with that firmness. He was not only on SWAT but he was also an FTO (Field Training Officer) at that time. As such, he explained things as he did them and was a patient instructor. I am sure that many of my questions bordered on sheer stupidity since I knew practically next to nothing of policing. I was thankful that he never left me feeling as if I was silly to ask some of the things that I asked.

I continued working with the Victim Services program. However, in my urge to work with youth and mentor them, I also became a Police Explorer Advisor. Both of these volunteer positions kept me bumping into Officer Gabriel on a regular basis. Eventually, we started to hang out outside of the work place. Officer Gabriel became like the brother I had never had. I was only six months older than he was and so we were of the same mind set in many ways. For those readers who may be imagining a romance coming up, please do not… . I am a lesbian from many years back and when I say Officer Gabriel became like a brother, that is exactly what I mean. He already had the love of his life in his life. To me, he became the best brother any gal could ever wish for.

At our fourth or fifth Explorer meeting, a young man, who had once been an explorer with our post came to visit and speak to the current explorers. They were very motivated to hear how he had gone from being an explorer to being an active police officer in a nearby city. He was telling us about his experience in the academy and the other recruits he had worked with. He fascinated all of us with his stories and amused us with the experiences he had which had been lessons hard learned. He happened to mention that the oldest recruit in his class had been 47 years old. My ears perked up immediately wondering if I had misheard. I raised my hand and asked him if I had indeed heard correctly. Could it possibly be true that there was no age limit? I was scared to get too excited. He said that there were no age limitations at the academy. If one could keep up with the demands, than anyone could apply. The butterflies started dancing around in my stomach.

I do not remember much else about his talking with the Explorers, but I do remember leaving the meeting that day in a daze and wondering if I could possibly do this. I was shaking with many mixed emotions. I was not a spring chicken, had many pregnancies behind me, had not been kind to my body for years, and was already feeling the aches of midlife. Dare I apply?

There is an expression in Spain, which says, el ‘no’ ya lo tienes, si no haces nada. This translates to, you already have the ‘no’ if you do nothing. Basically, it meant that if I didn’t ask, that would automatically give me a no so… . I decided heck with it, I’m getting older by the minute so let’s get this ball rolling. I immediately applied. The decision was made. At least if for some reason I missed this window, I would not be able to say that it was because I had not tried. I was excited beyond words.

I filled out the application and hoping for the best, got to work on myself. I worked on losing more weight, buying a gun, learning how to shoot with a range instructor, learning the phonetic alphabet, reading true stories of officers and going on as many ride-alongs as I could possibly fit in my already-crazy schedule.

Then began what would be months of agonizingly wondering if I could pass all the requirements. We had to pass a physical, a polygraph test, a background check, an interview, and fill out an endless amount of paperwork. As I went passing each hurdle in the application process, I worried about the next hurdle. I wondered, Was I too old? Was I too set in my ways? Was I too fucked up? Would I be able to handle someone yelling at me because my shoes were not shiny enough or my shirt was not ironed sufficiently? Was I in good enough shape? Would I be able to keep up with my job requirements while attending part time academy?" My list of self-doubts was endless. Like with everything else though, I just took a deep breath and dived in step-by-step.

image2.jpg

I was holding my breath for that call which I just knew was coming where they would tell me they had found one reason or another to disqualify me from the academy. The call never came. As each hurdle was crossed, I would breathe a little better.

Times were very different for gay people. Whereas in the past, it was not something one wanted to mention in an application setting of any sort, now it was something that we could discuss. As much as I wanted to be an officer, I refused to work for anyone or any entity that was not open to gay lifestyle. I refused adamantly to hide myself or my future wife away in a closet. So… at every step of the application process, when asked if I had any questions, I made sure to mention that I was gay and ask if that would be a problem in any way. Everyone was open-minded and reassured me that this would not be an issue in any way. What a relief! Times sure had changed since when I had been growing up on a military base. I would have hated to have to withdraw my application but I would have done so with no hesitation if being gay was an issue. I would have simply had to find another path to get to where I wanted to be in the future.

The academy was through a local Community College. It was a part-time academy. This meant that we each paid our way and attended on Tuesday and Thursday evenings and then all day Saturdays. It was set up this way for those of us who had jobs and needed to work while attending. I knew the schedule would be a killer when attached to a full time teaching schedule, after school club responsibilities, Victim Services volunteering, Police Explorer Advisor responsibilities, family responsibilities and to top it off, writing my Dissertation for my Doctorate. I was starting to think that maybe I was a masochist or just plain stupid. Maybe I was having a midlife crisis and felt that I had to prove that I could be superwoman because that would show that I still had it. Whatever it was???? I did not know if I had it or did not have it but I knew that many challenges were going to be coming my way so I had better brace myself and plan to hang on.

I am forever thankful that my four kids never had anything but encouraging words for me. My oldest son, Jonathan Dallas, was stationed in Missouri going through the Military Police program himself. Our letters back and forth were filled with police training related questions (from me) and experiences (from him). We had the perfect balance at the time. As he would tell me of his adventures, I would try to visualize myself doing them. My second son, Kendall Austin, had married his school sweetheart and they were pregnant with my first grandchild—I must say, much as I loved it, this did nothing to make me feel any younger. My daughter, Megan Jazmin, was living in Texas and my youngest son, Zachary Taylor, was still living at home.

Whether it was a midlife crisis or not, I do not know. What I do know is that I seemed to be hanging in there and moving forward. While I waited to move forward step-by-step in the application process, I was trying to get more and more familiar with policing, shooting, laws and anything I could get my hands on which was in any way related to the police. I spent endless hours on shifts with Officer Gabriel going on ride-alongs. I just could not get enough. It came to the point, that when I was at work in my classroom, I would hear sirens go by and itch to be out there with them and wonder what was going on. Was it a homicide? Was it a medical emergency? Was is a hot pursuit? My mind would race through all the possibilities.

Officer Gabriel knew of my desire to be out on patrol and would tease me endlessly via text telling me of what all he was dealing with in the community. He knew that I especially enjoyed working with vulnerable populations and absolutely chaotic situations. Any time there was a mental health call or anything off the wall, he would text me and tell me about it. It only made me want to be out there more and more.

image3.jpg

Time seemed to drag but I was getting done what needed to be done. I passed all the requirements one by one. When I opened the letter inviting me to Orientation, I felt like I had just received the Golden Ticket from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I wanted to wave it in the air and prance around my neighborhood yelling that I had been invited.

Thankfully, I had enough self-control and clarity of mind to figure out that getting picked up by the police for a public disturbance in my own neighborhood would not earn me any points to get into the academy. Therefore, I just kept it to myself and let my stomach do its own quiet little internal summersaults.

I was in! YEE HAW!!!!!

CHAPTER 2

ORIENTATION—06/26/12

I prepared for Orientation more than I would have prepared for my own prom (which I had never gone to) or my own wedding (which I will not comment upon for the sake of the reader). I was definitely not going to wear a dress or skirt. It had been decades since I had worn or owned either of those items. My entire wardrobe consisted of black jeans, blue jeans, and t-shirts. I did not own any dress slacks. As a rather butch lesbian, I already wore a shaved head. I did not wear jewelry other than a thin-blue-line bracelet, a big watch and dog tags. The thin-blue-line bracelet represented the thin line police walk daily between life and death and was a memorial to all those officers killed in the line of duty. My dog tags were a reminder of who I was and where I came from—a military brat all the way. With or without my jewelry though, my problem right now was clothing. What on earth do you wear to a police academy orientation??? It would be the first impression my peers and the staff would get of me, and it was important to me that they see that I was all business.

I called my son, Kendall Austin, to help me. He was ever so helpful. As it turned out, we were now the same size because of my recent weight loss. I tried on just about every clothing item in his closet. I finally borrowed a dress shirt and black slacks from him. Shoes were a completely different issue. I had to go buy some men’s shoes but in my size. I have a small foot in comparison to my son. Once I had passed my son’s inspection and my daughter-in-law, Juanita, had helped me to get everything on straight, I was set to go. My nerves were not set, but I was.

I got to Orientation an hour early, dressed in my son’s clothing, feeling old, and wondering if maybe I had dementia and had somehow convinced myself, in my delusions, that I could actually do this. As I waited for everyone to arrive, I was imagining that the staff would take one look at me and ask me whose mother I was… or maybe they would just laugh at me and say, Lady, don’t be ridiculous. I straightened out my shoulders and reprimanded myself for shooting myself in the foot before I even had a chance to prove myself. I told myself I had every right to be there and dared myself to prove it to everyone—including myself. If there was one person I had always been able to rely on, it had been me. I couldn’t afford to not support me at this point when I needed me more than ever.

Thankfully, the Director and the instructors were very nice and respectable people. I could tell immediately that I was going to like them. They were down to earth and excellent examples of the kind of police officers that I wanted to have as role models. They had a deep respect for their career and took the title of police officer very seriously. I immediately understood that no matter what they set before us, there would be a reason for it and that it would be purely for my benefit (even if it did not feel that way at the time or if I did not understand it at that time). My trust of them developed immediately.

Having grown up in the military, I knew that they would have to be firm with us to toughen us up. I realized that the harder they were on us the better it would serve me later because they wanted us to do well and not get killed on duty. Every time they cracked down on us for something, I knew I would be fine with it because I took it as a form of caring on their part.

My new role models were very important to me. Having respect for them was a critical component in my following them and trusting them. If I knew they were good, ethical, and trustworthy, I knew I would have no trouble with their direction. They would lead me and I would follow. Even if I did not know where I was being led, I could feel safe in my trust of them. Little did I realize just how many times I would have to remind myself that I trusted them completely and just go along with whatever activity they had set out for us. Unfortunately, this complete trust in them would later backfire on me as it would give the wrong impression during scenarios when I would not be forcible enough to impress them.

There were 24 people in the Orientation. There were however 26 that should have been present. We had already lost people and we had not even started! We were told, quite clearly, that the rate of attrition in the room would be high… about 50%. Typically, most classes started out with 20+ people and about 8 to 10 actually graduated after the 48 weeks. We all looked around at each other wondering who would not be graduating.

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As I looked around our classroom, it suddenly hit me how very hairy everyone was. Some had goat tees, some had beards, some had shoulder length hair and some even had earrings on. I wondered why the recruits had not shaved their heads and shaved prior to orientation. Surely, those would have been obvious steps to take?

I had a shaved head and this was the hair do that I had worn for quite a few years. It had been a long time since I had what could actually be considered more than just about a centimeter of hair on my head. My standard for knowing I needed a haircut was basically if while driving with my car window down, I could feel the most minimal hair blowing, it was time for a buzz. Hair bothered me and I did not have time for it. There was no way that through academy I was going to be battling with hair on any level. That being said, I loved the thought of running my fingers through my girlfriend’s’ hair in the future when I met her. I just did not like to wear it myself.

There were three other gals apart from me… all very young, very feminine, all very slim and all with beautiful long hair. Deep down, I was relieved that there were other females, but I also knew that I was not going to do the typical girls stick together thing. I made a mental note that no matter what activity we were doing, I needed to make sure not to just stick by the gals.

As I looked around the classroom, I also made a mental note that these were my new buddies and we would be having to work in close proximity. There was no time or space here for male/female bullshit issues. We were a brotherhood now and I would have to deal with any personal issues outside of the academy. Any issues I had were definitely not coming with me to our trainings.

I vowed to myself as well to never, ever, ever—even once—use any sort of female issue as an excuse for not being able to do something. I felt that this gave women a bad name and made us seem flaky or unreliable. I knew that I was neither.

I was heavy breasted and would need to bind my breasts so that I would not have issues when running. Because of this, I would find the time allotment for us to shower and change to be very challenging but I organized myself so that I could do it. I even practiced taking really fast showers and timing myself dressing at home. I had to wear my bind, a tight body suit, a sports bra and then an undershirt. All these layers proved to be a nightmare in the hot months when we were out running. However, I did not have any movement which would be inappropriate. Unbeknownst to me, It would turn out to come in handy later when doing defensive tactics as well.

In additionally to breast issues, I had terrible cramps every month for days and twice a month at that… . the days during ovulation and the days during menstruation. My cycles were extreme and heavy. I would suck it up and no one would be the wiser. Guys had no idea how lucky they were in this regard. Much as I preferred to be a gal, I had to admit that sometimes being a female was a real pain in the ass.

As I looked around the room, my first impression was sadly that I could easily have been just about everyone’s mom. As I looked closer though, I realized that not everyone was in their early twenties. I started to notice there were a few recruits that were probably in their thirties and then there were a few other male recruits that seemed to be somewhere in their forties as I was. This mix of ages gave me some relief. Maybe I would not stick out like a sore thumb after all.

I almost felt that I would have to prove myself twice as hard to the academy staff. My education level was high, but in no way did this give me any sense of being more prepared nor did it prove to be helpful to me at all. Quite the opposite was true. I did not want the recruits to know that I was pursuing my doctorate because I did not want them to think I thought I was a know it all. My learning had been in nothing at all related to policing. By no means was I better prepared for the academy due to my university career.

Additionally, I knew exactly how very ignorant I was of so very many subjects. Somehow, the more I had learned in life, the more I had realized just how much I did not know. What I knew, I knew well. However, what I did not know, I was a complete moron in. Policing was new to me so I felt vulnerable and like I had to study twice as hard to keep up.

Furthermore, I did not want to come across as one who felt she knew it all due to life’s experiences and age… as sometimes the older ones in a group will do. Being a know it all on any level did not match my personality at all. I had so many insecurities that it was not funny.

However, I realized that if someone just looked on paper, they might think that of me and not like me even before meeting me. I was determined to prove to the staff (who did have access to my resume) and to the recruits (who could see that I was older than most) that I was there to learn from all of them and that I was willing to eat humble pie because I really had no idea what I was doing. Wow! Did that turn out to be an understatement!

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If I had a penny for every time I felt lost, stupid, inadequate, ineffective, or ridiculous during the academy during that first semester, I would have graduated filthy rich and then just retired before going on patrol shift even once.

We were given instructions at Orientation about our class starting two weeks later and what we would need to bring with us. As I had expected, haircuts and shaves were definitely mentioned. Our schedule would be Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1800 to 2200 and Saturdays from 0600 to 1700… but we needed to understand that this could be changed at any time and that most likely we would never leave on time just as officers rarely got off their shifts on time. We were in for some busy and long days. Today we met our program Director, our Lieutenant, our RTO (Recruit Training Officer), our Academy Advisor and our Administrative Assistant. We had a fine team working with us.

We were told that on our very first day, we would be doing a portion of what was called the Cooper’s test. Not being familiar with any sort of policing tests, I immediately went home and researched this. The Cooper’s test consisted of running 1.5 miles, doing as many pushups and sit ups as possible in a minute, measuring the height of our jump, checking for our flexibility, bench pressing as many pounds as possible and sprinting 300 meters as fast as possible. Our scores would be logged to give the staff an idea of where we were physically. For the millionth time, I wondered what the hell I thought I was doing. I was about to have my first grandchild for goodness’ sakes. I should be knitting booties and talking with my daughter-in-law about how to avoid stretch marks. My self-doubts were endless.

However, my list of reasons for wanting to be an officer ran deep and personal and were just as endless as my list of insecurities. Not only was this a self-challenge, but my younger years had brought some experiences with them with which I needed to find a use. My turning those experiences into a learning opportunity to better the lives of other children was important to me. Regardless of the outcome, this was part of that plan. I had something to prove to myself and there was an entire population of vulnerable people that I wanted to serve. My goal was to work sex crimes and be the best damn officer that I could be working in this department.

Our orientation had been very informative and given me much to work on.

The two weeks waiting for the first class to come, dragged by and I was a nervous wreck inwardly and a calm wall outwardly. Little did anyone around me know that I had this constant and pressing desire to run to the bathroom and puke my guts out. My self-doubts had not disappeared, but my stubborn streak was turned on full force. I had always been able to depend on myself and I was not going to let myself down now after all I had gone through in life. I got on with getting on and started to take care of some other business that I needed to take care of.

One of the questions that had been on the application had been whether we were citizens of any other country. As I had grown up in the military overseas and had family there, I had been trying for years to get my dual citizenship with Spain. It was a really, long process and I had been working on it for a long time. When I realized that we could not be citizens of two countries, I immediately contacted the embassy with which I had been processing my paperwork. I cancelled out my thick file. They could not believe that after all the process I had gone through and as close as I was to finally getting my dual citizenship, I would cancel just like that. I had no hesitation at all.

I had redone my house so that I could focus completely on the academy. I had reorganized the books in my home office so that I could have all my police references at hand. I had reorganized my closet so that my uniforms could hang in a certain section. I had