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Editor's Notebook: Firearms Instruction
(This installment of Editor's Notebook is a slightly revised version of part of the Editor's book Police Firearms Instruction: Problems and Practices, published by CRC Press, and available at www.Amazon.com.)
By Rich Grassi
How does one become a firearms instructor? First you need an interest in firearms, then you have to actually be a shooter.
As a matter of record, I learned under the watchful eye of a mentor, trainer and coach. Norman Grassi, my father, took me under his wing and tried to instill some values. His success came over time, not all at once.
A veteran of a childhood in the Great Depression and military experience in World War II (European Theater), he carried in him an enduring respect for life. I recall a few things from our time together relevant to this discussion.
My first encounter with firearms involved Dad and I "goin' shootin'," as he put it. The object was an old Stevens long barrel rimfire rifle chambered for .22 Short-Long-Long Rifle. It was occasionally capable of semi-auto operation with LR ammo. We used .22 Shorts for basic training. While it wasn't silent, the report was scarcely noticeable in the strip mined land (strip pits) we used as a range.
The first lesson was loading and unloading, followed by the concept of not shooting over the horizon. He explained that the bullet could travel about a mile and still have the power to penetrate into a human body, potentially killing someone I couldn't see.
He said never to point a gun at anyone and told me how dangerous the "unloaded" gun could be - all the accidents seemed to happen with "unloaded" guns. The gun's safety was not to be relied on. Such mechanisms have failed before.
Dad said to make sure I knew what I was shooting at and to make sure no one was near the mark or behind it. A bullet would perforate the target and go on to hit someone behind it.
He was afflicted with far-sightedness, able to see and identify birds at some distance. On one occasion, a shooting soiree turned into a revealing discussion about his take on life. He'd hunted for much of his life but found himself incapable of taking deer. He preferred birds to rabbits and squirrels. But even then, he confessed, he felt a small part of himself die when he shot a mourning dove.
A young fool, I didn't understand until he taught me to hunt. The first dove I took created a strangely mixed feeling of elation and sadness.
A bond was created that has yet to end in spite of his passing. A common experience demonstrated his humanity, his compassion and his ability to reach out by teaching.
As I originally wrote this section, he was nearing 80 years of age. The lessons he taught formed the foundation for the rest of my life. Whatever I am, whatever I become arises from the shared experience - the spoken word and the demonstration. My drive to become a firearms instructor comes in large measure from this basis.
Ethics, honesty, fair play are all components of his approach. They are components of my approach.