
“I was sent here.”
It’s an admission Steve Rookyard sometimes hears at the beginning of a training day. The person has shown up, but their interest has yet to follow.
For him, that’s somewhere to start.
What would make the day useful to them?
What questions do they have?
What happens at work that the training could help them navigate?
A master facilitator with SafeCare BC, Rookyard delivers violence prevention and safe handling training. His experience includes helping develop B.C.’s provincial violence prevention curriculum. Yet, every classroom brings something the curriculum alone cannot supply: the experiences of the people taking part.
Making room for those experiences is central to his approach.
“Once people feel safe to share in the environment, they understand that they’re not going to be judged or graded on some of the comments,” he says.
Violence and aggression can be unsettling subjects. Some participants arrive with firsthand experience. Others are new to care, carrying questions about situations they have yet to encounter. A welcoming environment gives those concerns somewhere to go and the group an opportunity to work through them.
Learning alongside nervous learners
Years before teaching health care workers, Rookyard trained as a driving instructor. Lessons behind the wheel were rewarding, but the classroom held a particular appeal.
Working with nervous beginners taught him an early lesson. An instructor’s words, tone and energy could influence whether someone felt comfortable learning. Good mentors helped shape the positive, attentive approach that continues to guide his teaching.
In today’s workshops, that attention takes practical forms such as eye contact around the room, a break when concentration starts to fade, or a different question when the first one draws no response.
There’s also been a deliberate shift in who does the talking. Looking back on an eight-hour training day early in his career, Rookyard realized seven hours had been filled by his own voice. Now, the goal is greater participation.
A discussion reveals where learning is connecting, what needs clarification and how the material relates to someone’s work.
During one workshop, a participant described their father’s lengthy hospital stay. Confusion had led to behaviour that staff needed to manage. Suddenly, the discussion included a family’s perspective. Alongside questions about worker safety were reflections on the person receiving care and what their experience might’ve been.
For Rookyard, stories like this help bring a complex subject into focus. Compassion is already present in the room. Conversation gives participants a way to explore it alongside the risks they face.
Recognition often travels across the classroom as well. One worker shares a situation, and another describes something similar. Different care settings bring different perspectives, giving colleagues an opportunity to learn from each other.
“People love to learn new skills and practice when it’s at their pace, and it’s relevant to them,” he says.
The impact of a workshop can be difficult to see once everyone returns to work. But an unexpected encounter offered him a glimpse.
In a hospital hallway, a worker recognized him from violence prevention training the previous year, and he asked whether the workshop had helped; they responded with an emotion that surprised him: they wouldn’t have known what to do without it.
Training comes to life when a worker faces a challenging situation and remembers how to respond. That preparation begins in a room where they feel safe enough to ask.
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