Uptime: Teach a Kid…

When young people ask me what I do and where I work, some seem genuinely puzzled by my answers. “What’s maintenance all about?” they’ll ask. When I talk about repair, fixing problems, equipment upkeep, machinery lubrication, troubleshooting and working with many different people and computerized systems, eyes light up.

But when I steer the conversation toward the skills and knowledge required to work in maintenance, eyes roll. You know the next question: “So, what’s it pay?”

Based on a number of such conversations, it’s become clear to me that many (too many) young people don’t know about the basic “tools of the trade” or how to perform some simple tasks around their home—i.e., fixing a leaking pipe or faucet; replacing a broken light switch; building a bird house; or just checking power steering fluid and/or replacing a headlamp in their vehicles. They’ve missed the value of hands-on skills classes in high school (if such classes are even offered). Their parents may not perform those types of tasks either, or if they do, typically don’t involve children in them. And some youngsters just aren’t motivated to learn.

I believe we have about two generations of young people who haven’t learned some of the most practical skills for life, as we know it. As maintenance professionals, we should be teaching kids many of these basics. For example, screwdrivers aren’t to be used for mixing paint or as pry bars. Super glue doesn’t plug leaks well. All engine oils are not the same. Loud squeaks and rattles aren’t necessarily “normal.” The list is long.

How I learned

Most of us probably grew up learning close to home: through our parents, neighbors, teachers and peers. But did we learn to do the right things the right way? I’m confident most of us learned from our mistakes—and those of others, if we were paying close attention. That’s how we’re wired.

The fact that we might have had a tool or two (or even a toolbox-full) didn’t qualify us to actually use them properly. Having tools is a start, but evaluating a situation and figuring out the right one(s) for the job is a huge part of learning to use them.

I have memories from my more formative years of playing with Tinkertoys, chemistry sets, erector sets and crystal-set radios, then graduating to working with electrical project kits. Tearing into old lawnmower- and chainsaw-engines to see what made them tick was another personal quest. But fun associated with this learning. Since my Dad sold chainsaws, my brother Barry and I had an unending supply of small, but powerful engines. It was only a matter of time before we figured out how to improve the performance of our go-karts.

Two-cycle engines were simple enough for this young tinkerer to tear down, clean up and get running again. Making these little engines go faster by enlarging the intake and exhaust ports, learning about fuel-air mixtures, increasing the compression ratio, and experimenting with volatile fuel mixtures were the logical next steps. (Don’t let Mom know!) Who needed mufflers on these engines anyway? After all, these were our go-karts: Barry and I wanted them to go fast!

Moving 80 miles per hour, two inches off the ground is a thrill for any 11-year-old. Dad insisted on doing it safely. Since that called for good—make that great—brakes and ground-gripping tires, he provided additional funding and expertise.

Industrial arts and shop classes in school from ages 11 through 17 helped accelerate my learning curve and my working relationships with tools. Opportunities to make something with my own two hands, use real tools and equipment and design my own projects from scratch were all invaluable parts of growing up as a gear head. More important, these experiences under the watchful eyes of respected mentors helped me explore career choices that were different from what school counselors were pitching.

Family also plays a mega-role in any young person’s learning process. I suppose it was a big boost to have grandparents who owned and operated a small-scale manufacturing operation and a vehicle repair shop. On second thought, I know it was a big help. This family relationship exposed me to the types of real-world applications where I could use my hands, as well as my mind, to earn a living some day.

Granted, mastering the skills and knowledge to become a maintenance professional requires considerably more than hands-on learning. And learning, in almost any form, requires motivation. What would motivate a 14-year-old more than a real car? The $50 we invested in our first car—a 1948 Austin four-door rust-bucket sedan—was more of an investment in education than it was in transportation.

When we graduated from go-karts to our first, car Barry and I spent time not only in fixing it up, but also in finding a willing friend with a driver’s license so we could put the car on the streets. In the meantime, driving around a small back yard in town proved that everything worked (more or less). My new best friend Steve, who was two years older and possessed a newly minted driver’s license, jumped at the chance to help us get our “roadworthy” vehicle moving around the community.

Unfortunately, after driving about four blocks from home, the car fell apart! Literally! The right-front suspension and wheel broke right off the frame, only to be attached to the now-three-wheel car by the brake hose. Limping down the streets with three of us standing on the left rear bumper—hanging on for dear life, that is—kept the right-front frame from dragging as Steve steered the vehicle slowly home.

What we learned about weight and balance that day proved to be invaluable for the remainder of my journey to adulthood. Figuring things out by accident, though, is not always the best approach. We had learned, to some extent, how to use tools and weld. But we also found that we needed to be able to convince an interested policeman as to how we could get the car home without the aid of a tow truck—which we did, laughing all the way!

After that, we got serious about arc welding because we had an immediate need. Our grandfather’s welder was quickly pressed into service so we could again hit the streets in our little car.

As luck would have it, the same gang of four took to the streets only to have the same right-front suspension fall off again. And, the same gang of three perched on the left rear bumper as Steve struggled to drive us home. This time, we learned that our welds on the heavily rusted metal frame of the car had not been advisable.

Back at the shop, we pondered the problem. Again, we had a pressing need (a broken car), a welder and all of the electrodes we would possibly use. That’s when our uncle schooled us on the fine art of working with old rusty steel. His skill and knowledge of preparing the metal for welding by grinding down to the base metal did the trick. After some effective repair welding, we got the car back on the road, and it ran for months—long enough to sell it and upgrade to a newer old vehicle that required few, if any repairs other than chasing numerous Lucas electric gremlins.

In the meantime, my brother and I were also acquiring new skills while helping Dad remodel, rebuild, re-wire and re-plumb our family’s early-1900s-era house. Although living in a construction zone may not be all that appealing to most young people, it provided teachable moments everywhere we turned. Watching subcontractors ply their trade provided yet more exposure to what hands and minds could do with the proper tools and equipment.

Making it real for others

What Barry and I learned growing up was not just how to do things: We also learned the importance of learning how to learn. High-school classes and teachers and adult mentors, along with applied math and physics courses in college helped us learn why and how things work. Technical-education programs provided the confidence- and competency-building we needed for our career-focused applications.

What do many of today’s kids know about working with their hands and minds to earn a living wage? Do they know how to figure things out: electrical, electronic, mechanical or natural?

As experienced maintenance and reliability professionals (leaders, technicians, managers and engineers alike), we have an opportunity and obligation to share what we know with younger generations for as long as we can: That includes what to learn, how to learn and why learning is essential. Make it a point to teach a kid (or kids)—yours, a relative’s or a neighbor’s, or those in scouts or big brother and sister organizations or at community or church work-day events, for example. They’re everywhere.

Make learning a skill real. It could start with taking something apart to see how it’s made. Then taking it apart and putting it back together with no leftover parts—and ensuring that it still does what it was designed to do. It’s important to make learning interesting and relevant to a young person’s life. That can help build a foundation for exploring rewarding and well-paying industrial maintenance and reliability careers.

I encourage all readers to start today: Step out and step up to the challenge of filling the skills gap in America with motivated and talented youth. Please teach a kid.