Career Day
About a decade ago, my daughter’s teacher asked me to come speak to her class for Career Day. At first, I was hesitant. I had already spoken to many groups from all walks of life in my fire service career, but talking to my own child’s class felt different. I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of her friends, and at the time, I was still considered a "cool" dad. I knew that wouldn’t last forever.
Public speaking wasn’t my strong suit, so I was a little nervous about misspeaking or not knowing the answer to a question. But despite my hesitation, I agreed to do it. My daughter had no idea I was coming—it was her teacher’s idea to surprise her.
The day of the talk arrived, and I walked into the classroom with my firefighting gear in hand. Kids always seem to love seeing the full structure firefighting outfit. As I entered the room, I saw about 18–20 children sitting in a semicircle at the front of the classroom, buzzing with excitement and anticipation.
My daughter was in an advanced third-grade class, and little did I know, the students—along with their teacher—had prepared a list of tough questions for me. They weren’t shy at all, which actually made me feel more comfortable.
Most of the questions were positive, like, “What do you like most about your career?” That one was easy. I loved helping people who were truly in an emergency. We either made their day better or at least not as bad as it could have been. And then there was the camaraderie—the team mentality of the fire department—that pushed me harder than I would have ever gone alone.
But then came a question that stuck with me:
“What are some things about your career that you don’t like?”
At the time, my younger children’s birthdays were just around the corner, and that question hit me hard. My mind immediately flashed to all the missed birthdays, first words, and first steps. The holidays spent cutting patients out of cars instead of watching fireworks at a BBQ. Eating pizza at the firehouse instead of turkey with family. Responding to a structure fire because someone forgot to water their Christmas tree, and the lights shorted out, setting it ablaze. Treating patients from a multi-vehicle collision because someone had too much to drink at a New Year’s party.
Most people don’t realize that firefighters spend a third of their career away from home and family. That, for me, was the hardest part. I still remember when my daughter first learned how to speed dial my number—she’d call me crying, asking me to tuck her in.
The toll went beyond just missing moments. We didn’t get to leave our work at the door like most people. The images we saw stayed with us, sometimes leading to PTSD. The stressful calls and interrupted sleep took a toll on our health and our relationships. The statistics were tough—firefighters had an average life expectancy of 55 and were three times more likely to go through a divorce.
But despite all of that, I loved the job. I just didn’t love all the sacrifices that came with it.
One of the last questions asked was, “What keeps you going when you’re in a bad situation?”
My answer? My wife and kids.
I told them that I would fight and push until there was no air left in my lungs to make it home to my family.
Looking back, I’m grateful I agreed to speak that day. It’s always amazing how a simple question can spark such deep reflection.
