"Seminole 256AT, radar contact, climb and maintain 7,000, clear direct Crimson VOR."
It's just a shade past 9PM and my student and I are headed back to home base after a day chock full of flying. As cross country flights go, they really don't come any more pleasant than this: my student is, despite his minimal experience, competent at the controls and thorough in his checklist usage, allowing me a few moments of reflection as we enter our cruise altitude. The air is smooth as glass and the sky is devoid of other aircraft here in central Alabama. Our route is free of turbulence and clouds, making these absolute ideal conditions for some night flying. You can see the stars for miles and for that reason, the world seems smaller on this night. Aside from the occasional airliner Captain reporting in with a new altitude, our only combatant against the peaceful dark silence is the constant hum of the propellers. If we can keep our speed up and receive a clearance vector from Atlanta approach control, there's still a chance I can make it to my bed by midnight.
Two months in to full time instructing, moments as these are rare. The days are packed tighter than a blackberry crepe, often times with more obligations than hours needed to fulfill. A couple of scheduled flights, a few hours of ground school, maybe toss in a simulator session or two, and before I can say je suis fatigue it's time to prepare for the next day. Nevermind eating; usually I'm about two meals behind. The days blend together so much that I'm constantly asking my non-pilot friends to confirm what day it is. "Wait, it's Friday? I thought it was Tuesday." No kidding. Happens twice a week.
I'm not complaining. It's an observation, and I'm ok with the schedule. Actually, I never thought it was possible that one could truly love a job. I absolutely love to fly airplanes and feel fortunate to have the job I want in the location I want. I love what I do. And unlike dominating my former 4th grade arch rival students in dodgeball, it's tough.
Each day brings forth new challenges. Right now, I'm struggling to convey the intricate aviation knowledge that I only recently acquired into my students' craniums during a ground school session. If not in the classroom, then I'm in the air, where I deliberately fail engines at dangerously low altitudes, all part of FAA-approved and company mandated pilot training. No pun intended, but flight instructing really is a crash course in becoming a pilot. I'm safe enough to survive my students' mistakes and fly across the country, but am I a good pilot? It's the question that no one can answer now that I'm done with checkrides. If we follow the federal aviation regulations and make it safely from A to B, does that count? What about if my students' keep passing their checkrides? Any credit for that? The short answer is that I don't know. In other endeavors, success is easily identifiable. In flight training, it's a bit more ambiguous, and short of me preventing a student from slamming our aircraft into terrain, I'm not sure what parameters I could use. These are the things I think about.
I also think about the road ahead, and how with every hour of flying time I'm able to log, the goal is that much closer to reality. To be sure, it's still a long, long ways off: the benchmark of aviation experience is determined through flight hours. While I've achieved the necessary ratings to fly for a living and even instruct others, I'm still a rookie in the greybeard pilot's eye, and rightfully so. No airline worth a bag of salted pretzels would even consider touching a pilot with under 500 hours, with many airlines' hiring minimums well in excess of 1,000 hours. For me, I've set my sights on 1,500 hours, the minimum criteria to apply for what's known as the doctorate of aviation: Airline Transport Pilot. It's the highest rating a pilot can earn, and short of getting hired by a small freight company prior to that mark, I plan on flight instructing as a means to reach that end. A quick glance at the logbook shows I have light years to go, but with every botched student pilot landing I survive, I'm that much closer to attaining it. Ever save up spare change in hopes of one day taking a vacation? For every nickel and quarter you put in, it might add up to something great. Same concept here, only the road to 1,500 seems like a slow crawl some days. Maybe I need to quit making logbook entries after every flight. Maybe I need to snake more flights from the tired and experienced instructors. Or maybe I need to stop daydreaming and just enjoy the journey a bit more.
Perhaps that's why I enjoy night flight so much. The tranquility that the darkness offers allows me to relax and breathe easy, knowing that my student is straight-and-level at cruise altitude with minimal workload. The goals I have and the dreams I'm chasing-they'll come in time. For now, the drive to get there is a grueling one, yet it's the exact place I'd choose to be 100 times over. So tomorrow, as I embark on yet another long trip well after sunset, this time to Daytona Beach, forgive me if I take another moment or two to sit back, enjoy the air, and reflect. With one eye on my student, of course.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Earning It
When I first announced I'd be leaving behind my life of teaching to pursue my dream of flying airplane, the reactions from friends and family were mixed. Some celebrated with me and encouraged me. Others dispensed words of wisdom that proved invaluable. Still others did everything short of barricading me inside my house and force me to take up knitting. But the one that sticks with me today is that of my buddy Luke, who took it upon himself to bestow the nickname of 'Captain' upon me. For the next few months, whether we were playing basketball or plowing through a plate of nachos, everything he said to me was prefaced with that moniker. For example, "Uh oh, the Captain is about to fire up the lawnmower!" Or, "Man, the Captain is destroying that apple crisp!" You know, random stuff like that. Naturally, I ate it up. Who doesn't want to be called Captain? Even if you're just a pizza delivery man, it's a good nickname. For me, it was pure gold. Trouble is, I hadn't even stepped foot in an aircraft yet. I had no idea what I was getting into. Giving me that title was more out of place than the Teletubbies being arrested for cocaine possession.
My college basketball coach had a penchant for motivational speeches. One of his favorites was a spinoff of the Marine's slogan 'Earned, Never Given.' Throughout the grueling pre-season conditioning sessions he'd flash a cheesy smile at us and chant those words at us, over and over again. With sweat pouring over every fiber of our bodies, he'd remind us that nothing was ever given to us, that we'd obtain every morsel of success by working hard and earning it. And it was awful. So many days I wanted to quit, my teammates wanted to quit-it was just too hard. But somehow, somewhere inside us, we dug deep to find something greater. After a few weeks of strenuous training, the season finally began. We had earned it.
Those two snapshots of my life illustrate perfectly what I'm experiencing now. So much of this blog has been about facing challenges, leaping hurdles, rising up over mountains, and overcoming adversity in my relentless pursuit of my dream career. For those who've been reading since day one, you'll testify to the fact that it's never been easy, that I've never let my guard down or taken a vacation from learning. I want this, and as evidenced by the turns my life has taken over the past few months, I'm pretty much on the record as being willing to do whatever it takes. The battle of earning it continues for me, only the obstacles in front of me bear a different facing. It's no longer the prospect of another checkride for me, but rather that burden is now placed upon my students. They're the ones going through the same meatgrinder that I just came out of a few months ago, and surprisingly, I'm just as nervous as they are on checkride day. The challenge here lies in preparing them the way I was prepared, to give them my best even though it might not directly affect my livelihood. It's about staying disciplined in the little things, even though it might be the 3rd or even 4th time in a given day that I'm doing something. And I don't mind: flight instructing so far has been remarkably enjoyable. I fly most everyday and am compensated for it. It's exactly what I want to do. But it definitely isn't easy, and even with the unquenching love I have for flying airplanes, the mental toll of always trying to stay 2-3 steps ahead of a novice student pilot is exhausting. There has already been a few moments of sheer terror in the airplane, each of which sprouts a few more grey hairs on my head and causes me to wonder if I'll actually survive a few years of flight instructing. It all comes with the territory, and I love it, but I am definitely earning it.
As always, there are things I cannot control, like the weather, or my students' attitudes. It's frustrating knowing that for every day I do not fly, I remain that much further away from reaching my goals, like that coveted ranking of 'Captain.' I'll get there someday, but until then, I'm going to enjoy the ride and be grateful I've made it this far. Patience and contentment will become my good friends. Because if I'm always striving to be somewhere, I'll never really arrive anywhere.
One last story for the kids: this past week presented me with an opportunity to oversee what's known as a 'Discovery Flight.' Geared towards inspiring people to sign up for a pilot training program, it's usually the first time someone's flown an aircraft. I perform the takeoff and landing, and monitor the safety of the flight from my right seat position, but for the other thirty minutes or so, the person shelling out the $95 gets to manipulate the controls and play pilot for a day. More often than not, people return from these adventures and instantly whip out the credit card for more flying-it's like a drug. I tried my best to show the prospective flier a good time, vectoring him around some of the more scenic areas and minimizing the amount of time I had to grab the yoke for safety's sake. He maintained a smile for most of the ride, and seemed ecstatic at the prospect of becoming a pilot. Things were going well. But towards the end, he began to sweat profusely, and the Hardee's Thickburgers that he had consumed just moments before departing quickly began a digestive rebellion, and only a mile from the runway all hell broke loose inside his stomach, and soon I was faced with a smelly cockpit, a very uncomfortable passenger, and one miserable mess. Flying might not be for everyone. You can be most definitely assured, however, that I earned this hour of paid flight time, and on this day, for once, I didn't want to be Captain.
My college basketball coach had a penchant for motivational speeches. One of his favorites was a spinoff of the Marine's slogan 'Earned, Never Given.' Throughout the grueling pre-season conditioning sessions he'd flash a cheesy smile at us and chant those words at us, over and over again. With sweat pouring over every fiber of our bodies, he'd remind us that nothing was ever given to us, that we'd obtain every morsel of success by working hard and earning it. And it was awful. So many days I wanted to quit, my teammates wanted to quit-it was just too hard. But somehow, somewhere inside us, we dug deep to find something greater. After a few weeks of strenuous training, the season finally began. We had earned it.
Those two snapshots of my life illustrate perfectly what I'm experiencing now. So much of this blog has been about facing challenges, leaping hurdles, rising up over mountains, and overcoming adversity in my relentless pursuit of my dream career. For those who've been reading since day one, you'll testify to the fact that it's never been easy, that I've never let my guard down or taken a vacation from learning. I want this, and as evidenced by the turns my life has taken over the past few months, I'm pretty much on the record as being willing to do whatever it takes. The battle of earning it continues for me, only the obstacles in front of me bear a different facing. It's no longer the prospect of another checkride for me, but rather that burden is now placed upon my students. They're the ones going through the same meatgrinder that I just came out of a few months ago, and surprisingly, I'm just as nervous as they are on checkride day. The challenge here lies in preparing them the way I was prepared, to give them my best even though it might not directly affect my livelihood. It's about staying disciplined in the little things, even though it might be the 3rd or even 4th time in a given day that I'm doing something. And I don't mind: flight instructing so far has been remarkably enjoyable. I fly most everyday and am compensated for it. It's exactly what I want to do. But it definitely isn't easy, and even with the unquenching love I have for flying airplanes, the mental toll of always trying to stay 2-3 steps ahead of a novice student pilot is exhausting. There has already been a few moments of sheer terror in the airplane, each of which sprouts a few more grey hairs on my head and causes me to wonder if I'll actually survive a few years of flight instructing. It all comes with the territory, and I love it, but I am definitely earning it.
As always, there are things I cannot control, like the weather, or my students' attitudes. It's frustrating knowing that for every day I do not fly, I remain that much further away from reaching my goals, like that coveted ranking of 'Captain.' I'll get there someday, but until then, I'm going to enjoy the ride and be grateful I've made it this far. Patience and contentment will become my good friends. Because if I'm always striving to be somewhere, I'll never really arrive anywhere.
One last story for the kids: this past week presented me with an opportunity to oversee what's known as a 'Discovery Flight.' Geared towards inspiring people to sign up for a pilot training program, it's usually the first time someone's flown an aircraft. I perform the takeoff and landing, and monitor the safety of the flight from my right seat position, but for the other thirty minutes or so, the person shelling out the $95 gets to manipulate the controls and play pilot for a day. More often than not, people return from these adventures and instantly whip out the credit card for more flying-it's like a drug. I tried my best to show the prospective flier a good time, vectoring him around some of the more scenic areas and minimizing the amount of time I had to grab the yoke for safety's sake. He maintained a smile for most of the ride, and seemed ecstatic at the prospect of becoming a pilot. Things were going well. But towards the end, he began to sweat profusely, and the Hardee's Thickburgers that he had consumed just moments before departing quickly began a digestive rebellion, and only a mile from the runway all hell broke loose inside his stomach, and soon I was faced with a smelly cockpit, a very uncomfortable passenger, and one miserable mess. Flying might not be for everyone. You can be most definitely assured, however, that I earned this hour of paid flight time, and on this day, for once, I didn't want to be Captain.
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