Me with my first student, Vladimir

    After just over three years of flying I've reached a fairly big milestone - my initial CFI. I'm now a Certificated Flight Instructor, qualified to teach. While I've always been mindful of the responsibility this license would give me, I don't think it hit me viscerally until I had it in my pocket. But we'll get to that.

    I began working toward my CFI shortly after completing my Commercial License and Instrument Rating. There was much reading in preparation for the written test, and I spent a lot of time picking the brains of instructors I knew. After taking the written test and my spin training I booked a slot at Skylink Aviation near St. Louis to finish up. They specialize in CFI training, and I spent a week there completing the license.

    Skylink is located at St. Charles County Smartt Airport about 10 miles northwest of St. Louis. The program is conducted one-on-one, with ground work and flying every day. My instructor John had been an airline pilot, crop sprayer, and instructor for many years. He also had a strong Southern drawl which made me laugh at a few inappropriate times.

    During my week at Skylink it felt like I had the Federal Aviation Regulations (FAR's) chained to me. John could quote them chapter and verse as if he were a preacher with a bible. A big part of instructing is knowing the regulations, and it takes practice to interpret the legal-ese with which they are written. Another big part is being able to give ground instruction. John would have me teach lessons using a dry-erase board and toy planes as visual aids. I'm a teacher by trade, but I found myself struggling at times to explain nuances in aerodynamics, stability, and procedures. But with practice my lessons improved.

    Every day we would fly Skylink's Piper Arrow. Instructor applicants are expected to fly to Commercial Pilot standards while also explaining the maneuvers. Although comfortable in the Arrow, it took me a while to get used to talking and flying at the same time. One thing about the airplane did throw me at first. Some Arrows have long wings like Warriors. Other models, such as Skylink's, have short wings. This plane comes down very quickly when the power is pulled, and has very little float in the flare. I've flown other planes like this, but one maneuver took me by surprise.

    CFI applicants can be asked to demonstrate an "Accuracy Landing". Flying 800-1000' abeam the runway you indicate your target spot, then pull the power and attempt to land no further than 200' from it. When John demonstrated this for me he began turning toward the runway almost immediately after pulling the power. I thought, "What is he doing?! We're going to end up in the trees at the end of the runway!" In a Warrior such as I'm used to flying, that would probably have been true. But in the short-wing Arrow, it was just right. It took a few attempts for me to get the hang of this maneuver.

    On the fifth day I flew with the chief instructor, who pronounced me ready for the checkride. Then I had the weekend to prepare more lesson plans and study for the checkride on Monday. The next two days were a bit tense. I'd rather have taken the checkride on Saturday and not had the extra time.

    Monday arrived and I was surprised to find myself nervous, which is unusual for me at checkrides. The examiner was a corporate pilot, and I was disconcerted to find that he also seemed to have the FAR's memorized. We settled in for a long day - the initial CFI takes a while. We began the oral exam at 9:00, broke for lunch at 11:30, returned for more oral at 12:15, went flying at 2:00, and didn't finish everything until 4:00.

    The oral exam went fairly well. My one gaff occurred when I taught a lesson he hadn't asked for. The examiner would periodically ask me to teach a topic to him as if he were a student. At one point he asked me for a lesson on wake turbulence avoidance, and I promptly launched into a discussion of wind shear and microbursts. When I finished he looked blankly at me and said, "Is that what I asked you to teach me?"

    I looked even more blankly at him and said, "Um, I think so..."

    He shook his head as if he were dizzy, consulted his notes and said, "Ah... nope. I asked for wake turbulence. Thought I was going crazy there for a second. Well, wind shear was next anyway and you taught it fine. But how about now you give me the lesson I asked for?"

    Now that's just stupid. So I taught the wake turbulence with no problem, but felt pretty dumb throughout.

    I was feeling better by the time we went out to the airplane and was mostly concerned with flying smoothly. Nothing of great interest happened during the flight except that I aborted our first takeoff when I noticed the door popping open. I treated it as if it was a real lesson and used it as a "teachable moment". On the whole my flying was adequate, but not fantastic. I nailed the accuracy landing and Eights-on-Pylons, which were the only maneuvers that really concerned me. I felt I was somewhat sloppy on Chandelles and one side of the steep turns, but acceptable. In any case, after we landed he began typing out my temporary certificate.

    Upon returning home I had a student already lined up. Vladimir had been a reader of this web site, and contacted me months ago about learning to fly. Vlad was one of many people I've spoken to who have a fear, yet also a fascination with flying. We had exchanged a few emails in which I encouraged him to give it a try, and gave him information on various flight schools. I was flattered when he said he would wait for me to get certified for his first lesson. Although excited about giving my first lesson, it sometimes felt the license in my pocket was a fifty-pound rock of responsibility.

    Vlad and I finally met in person at Cherry Ridge Airport this past weekend. He came very prepared, having read a great deal. In the past I've seen some primary students (myself included) who wanted to do the preflight inspection very quickly in order to get to the flying. I was pleased to see that Vlad was interested in doing things thoroughly, with an eye toward safety. He had clearly done his homework, knew a lot about the airplane, and asked some informed questions during the preflight.

    Vlad took to the airplane quite well, especially for someone who claimed to have had a fear of flying. Like most first time students, taxiing was a novelty. It's very unnatural to steer with your feet after a lifetime of driving, but he was soon keeping the airplane's nose on the yellow taxi line. In the air we went through straight & level flight, turns, and basic climbs and descents. On our approach to land Vlad spotted another aircraft nearby (Yes! He's already scanning for traffic aggressively), so we went around to make room before landing ourselves. And soon our first lesson was finished, with both of us a bit breathless from excitement. Vlad was a great first student, and I was thankful he had confidence in me as a newly minted instructor.

    Afterward, I reflected on how I felt about my first day as a CFI. This sounds odd even as I write it, but I felt simultaneously proud, confident, and intimidated by how much I DON'T know yet.

    New certificated Private Pilots are often told that their ticket is a "license to learn". Passing any kind of skills test means you were found to be competent at a predetermined level (on the day you passed), not an expert. Experience is the next requirement toward becoming a "good" pilot.

    I feel the same about my CFI. This is the biggest license to learn I've yet received, and I'm sometimes aghast at how much authority and responsibility come with it. That's not to say I'm timid in my skills - I think I'm a capable a pilot and teacher. But I feel inexperienced again, much as I did after receiving my PPL. However, I think my strength comes in having climbed several mountains of skill in my life. I've been here at the base camp before, qualified and well equipped, but also intimidated at the mighty peak looming above. But I know enough to climb on, and to trust that experience will get me over the summit.

    And of course, on to the next mountain.