Women dressed in dark uniforms—each adorned with a unique patch and insignia—stand around the room. They have belts fastened around their hips, all bearing staples of law enforcement gadgetry: guns, handcuffs, and walkie-talkies.
Each of these women is ready, at a moment’s notice, to respond to emergency situations specific to their agency. That might mean jumping out of a plane to fight a wildfire or knocking a 200-pound perp to the ground.
But right now, they’re busy helping women like themselves prepare for what will hopefully be successful careers in public safety.
Beginning Aug. 25, Allan Hancock College will offer a new course called Women in Public Safety Careers—Academy Preparation. While the class is open to both men and women, it’s designed specifically to prepare women for the challenges of a public safety basic academy in law enforcement, fire fighting, or emergency medical services.
“The idea for this came about when academy instructors and staff had a round table discussion and decided we wanted to do more outreach to bring more women into the public safety field,” said Greg Dossey, Allan Hancock College’s police academy director.
“We’ve found that a lot of women don’t make it through academy because of a lack of physical strength or emotional [fortitude],” he explained.
According to documents provided by the college, the academy typically sees two or three female recruits out of a class of 20 or more people. And often, not all of those recruits make it to graduation.
The local odds of women recruits finishing academy training reflect the scant numbers of women who pursue and maintain careers in law enforcement around the country.
According to a recent report issued by the FBI, 88.3 percent of full-time law enforcement officers were male nationwide in 2007. When grouped by city population, the report found that cities with populations of 10,000 to 25,000 residents employed the highest percentage (92.3) of male officers. Cities with populations of 1 million and more employed the highest percentage (18.3) of full-time female officers.
Funded through a $50,000 federal grant, Allan Hancock College’s new class will specifically address some of the issues that could prevent a woman from completing the academy and/or having a successful career in law enforcement
The 16-week “pre-boot camp boot camp” will give enrolled students an introduction to careers in public safety, and provide information about the physical and emotional challenges of working in the field. Students will also learn successful studying and academy survival skills, such as report writing, military-style discipline, and drill formations and marching. Last, but definitely not least, students will participate in physical conditioning labs that focus on building muscle strength and cardiovascular stamina.
“It’s a paramilitary-style course,” Dossey said, adding that, much like out in the field, “they have to be able to think clearly when all around them is chaos and screaming.”
But the course will feature more than growling drill sergeants and marching formations.
“We’re going to be doing practical physical training, too,” said Deb Annibali, academy coordinator and 20-year public safety veteran. “We’re going to have them practice doing things that you have to do on the job, like carrying a body board, a rescue basket, or dragging a body out of a burning building.”
But the most important benefit of the class, Annibali said, will be having “other women who have been successful at things society traditionally says they can’t do share their experiences.”
Learning from the best
When she started her law enforcement career at the Los Angeles Police Department in the mid-1980s, Janice Goodwin said, “it was an awful environment.”
“I went on patrol with one officer who was going on his 24th year in the department and he made it perfectly clear that he had no use for a female in his car,” said Goodwin, who is now a sergeant with the San Luis Obispo Police Department.
Goodwin is one of several women from local public safety agencies who will help teach the course.
Back in the 1980s, Goodwin said, her peers “made it very clear at every opportunity that they did not want you there, that the police department was not a place for a woman.”
One thing she said helped her prepare for such challenges was the department’s two-month pre-academy. The course was available to women and minorities, but was mostly made up of women.
“It was fantastic. It was a great method for getting all your jitters out,” Goodwin said. “It helped you prepare mentally and it gave you time to adjust emotionally and physically to the demands of academy and the profession.”
Would she have been as successful without the course?
“I think I would have succeeded, but I think it would have been much more difficult. … It took the unknown out of going to academy,” Goodwin said.
Fellow course instructor Nicki Woods, a sergeant with the Paso Robles Police Department, said having access to a course such as Allan Hancock’s or the LAPD’s would have helped a lot when she first entered academy.
“I didn’t have a lot of confidence because I was a pretty shy kid,” Woods said. “I think a course like this would have helped me develop more confidence.”
Still, Woods said the confidence eventually came. It just took time.
“My grandma said I used to be such a nice girl, then she went on a ride-along with me and she doesn’t think I’m so nice anymore because I’m more assertive,” Woods said.
A balancing act
Meeting the demands of one’s career and personal life is challenging for most people, but it can be even more difficult for women pursing careers in public safety.
“Being one of only a few females in the department, it takes a lot, mentally,” said Stephanie Kennedy, a member of the Chumash Fire Department. “It’s hard to figure out how you fit into the group and how group dynamics work.”
Kennedy is a trained smokejumper. When a wildfire starts, she’s one of the first firefighters to hit the ground, both figuratively and literally—smokejumpers leap out of airplanes to infiltrate the fire line.
Smokejumpers usually work 14 days at a time, and the shifts, Kennedy said, “can go anywhere from 16 hours to whenever someone comes to replace you.
“That could last as long as 24 hours or more,” she said. “So then you’re up all night and dealing with sleep deprivation.”
Such work schedules can take their toll on a personal life.
“Not many women with these kinds of jobs have children,” said Kennedy, who left the fire department in 2005 to have her own two children.
“I’m just starting up again this season,” she said.
Balancing work and family proved difficult for Officer Sandra King of the Santa Maria Police Department—especially during academy.
“You feel guilty, and you spend a lot on toys, because when you come home after academy you make mac and cheese and chicken nuggets in the microwave, put them in front of the TV, and say, ‘I’m sorry, but I have to study,’” King said.
King said her schedule has become less hectic now that she works for a department, but she still has to make sure she gets home on time and doesn’t let her memos stack up.
To help women better juggle work and home life, the Allan Hancock College course will provide lectures on professional and personal relationships. The lectures will cover sexual harassment and the pitfalls of dating in the workplace, as well as family dynamics and self-care.
“It’s our culture that women are expected to take care of family things,” academy coordinator Annibali said. “It can become an issue when women make a real time commitment to academy.”
Overcoming adversity
Despite the added stress and strain of working in public safety, all of the women said they wouldn’t have it any other way.
“It’s like a family, which makes it fun to go to work,” King said. “We see some really scary things. We see more bad things in two years than most people see in their entire lives. But if someone has a bad day or is having a hard time, everybody’s there to help and support each other.”
And, of course, there are plenty of advantages to having women on duty.
“Women are usually more effective at de-elevating a situation with words,” said Jennifer Kramp, a California State Parks peace officer at Oceano Dunes.
While state parks have traditionally been more accepting of women in their ranks, Kramp said that doesn’t make the position any less difficult. She explained that her position is especially demanding because peace officers working in California’s parks are expected to act as both law enforcement officials and paramedics.
Most public safety agencies—whether police, fire, or emergency services—aim to have at least one female on duty during a shift to handle what Pismo Beach Police Department officer Jodi Bischoff calls “crucial situations.”
When she first started with the department about a year ago, Bischoff was called in to talk to a rape survivor.
“At that point, she wanted nothing to do with men,” Bischoff said.
To help the woman, Bischoff said she took a less aggressive approach.
“I really tried to put myself out of uniform. I used my first name; I said, ‘Hi, my name is Jodi. I want to help you through this,’” she said.
And during her time in law enforcement, Bischoff said she’s never considered her gender a liability.
“I’ve never had any problems because I’m a female,” she said. “I’ve never had a problem with my peers. I’m always one of the guys. They’re like our brothers.”
Bischoff said the only time she gets treated differently because of her gender is while serving in the public.
“You cannot get offended in this job because you are going to get called every pet name in the book,” she said.
SLOPD’s Goodwin agreed that society has come a long way since she joined the police force back in the 1980s. But sometimes it’s hard for people in the public to take her seriously.
“People, mostly at church and other places I’m not in uniform, will ask, ‘Oh, you go out by yourself?’” Goodwin said. “And I say, ‘Yes—I have a flashlight.’” m
Contact Staff Writer Amy Asman at aasman@santamaria sun.com.
This article appears in Jun 11-18, 2009.