First day of Summer

I don’t care what the calendar says, Summer started today. I had four flights scheduled today, but I only flew once. The reason- weather. Today was hot and humid. All the afternoon flights were canceled because of rain and thunderstorms. That’s an absolutely standard Summer day down here in South Florida. This lovely summer weather will continue till oh…October/November. Only six months to go…

My first solo pt.2

“Be there before 7am” I told him, but as usual, it fell on deaf ears and he was late for his solo. I told him the plan was to do a few patterns with me, and if he was still up to speed, I’d send him for his solo. Now that he was late, I told him the solo may not happen since we may run out of time. Nonetheless, we get airborne, and I look keenly for any mistakes he could make. There’s a company 152 in the pattern doing circuits also. My student does 3 circuits with minimal input from me. I think he’s ready.


I request a full stop landing so I can get out of the airplane, and we’re cleared to land. Just then the 152 calls ready for circuits- her first solo flight. Nice- two first solos will be in the pattern at once- just what the controllers wanted at 8am.


We taxi to the nearest ramp, I sign the paperwork, and tell him to do 3 full stop landings. “Pretend I’m right beside you, and fly just the way we trained.” I grab my radio and jump out of the airplane. I see the 152 on downwind, and wonder if it was really smart to put two newbs in the pattern at once.


I listen keenly as he calls for taxi clearance, then departure clearance- this time adding “first student solo” to the request. I can’t help but smile, because he’s doing it perfectly- no mistakes so far. He gets takeoff clearance, and starts the roll. I hope he’s keeping the plane on the centerline. I note that he’s forgotten to turn on the strobes and landing lights, but that sin can be forgiven.


I watch as he does his first landing. A little slow on final, but safe enough. He vacates the runway as the 152 is taxiing by me for her third circuit. They are actually talking to each other on the frequency. The other instructor and I look at each other in disbelief- “who the hell taught him that?” I say out loud. We’ll need to have a chat when I get back in the airplane.


The 152 does her final circuit and contacts ground. Instead of coming to pick up her CFI, she taxis back to her normal parking spot on the other side of the field. I can’t bloody believe it. She left her CFI to walk across the airport to the flight school. I’m not about to have that happen to me, so I call the tower and ask them to make sure he comes back to pick me up after his last circuit.


He does his third safe landing, and taxis to the ramp to pick me up. When I opened the door, he was grinning from ear to ear, already telling me about how it was the coolest thing he’d ever done. We request taxi back to our usual parking spot- smiling all the way. My student- because he’s excited. I’m smiling because I’m so bloody proud of him. He’s come a looooong way since that first flight.


We get back to the flight school, and I start the first solo ceremony by writing on the back of his shirt, and making the first entry in the PIC column of his logbook. For today, his name will be “Captain”. I’m proud as a peacock for the rest of the day. My student did his first solo. My first student. My first solo.

My first solo pt.1

Well, not my first solo, but my first student’s first solo. When I gave him his first lesson, I had barely been a CFI for 3 weeks. He was unbelievably excited to start his flight training, and couldn’t wait to fly. I was terrified. How was I supposed to teach somebody to become a pilot? Where would I start? It would have been one thing to have a commercial candidate as a student- (s)he would already know how to fly. With this guy I’d have to give him the knowledge required to be a safe, competent pilot. How could I do that when I’m still learning?


Fast forward to today, when I have a few more hours in the “dual given” column of my logbook. I’ve flown with a few students, and have a bit more confidence in my ability to teach. We’ve done a lot of flight and ground training, and I think he’s ready to solo- my first solo student.


My student is nervous as hell. He’s trying to delay it, and keeps inventing ways he thinks he’ll mess up. He even asked me to be in the back seat for his solo. I, on the other hand, am not nervous. The kid knows his theory, he can fly well, and his radio-telephony skills are good. I think he’s ready.


A few more experienced instructors find it curious that I’m not nervous. My own CFI instructor even offered to be there (on the day of the first solo) to offer moral support- to me! Maybe I’m just naïve, and I should be anxious; after all, if something bad happens, I’ll be responsible. Nonetheless, I’m confident he’s ready. Per company policy, I’ll be sending him to fly with the chief pilot before sending him solo. That’s a second opinion, to ensure the primary CFI isn’t missing any dangerous habits. I don’t see anything in his flying that would make the chief send him back to me for re-training, so I anticipate my student will have his first solo this week- my first solo.

There’s really no big difference…

…between what this JFK controller did and what flight instructors do every day. When a brand new student pilot keys the mic for the first time, he has no clue what’s going on. Even though we’ve spent time in the classroom talking about radio procedures, the student is so overwhelmed by the situation that he inevitably forgets what to do. The student then looks at the CFI and says “what do I say”. The CFI then says in a slow, deliberate voice “tower, N123, holding short runway 23L, ready for east departure”. For those first few flights, the student is just repeating what the CFI says. That’s all that happened here, the kid just repeated what his dad told him to say. I must also add that he did a much better job than most student pilots I’ve heard- his transmission was clear, intelligible, and he didn’t sound the slightest bit nervous. Maybe it’s in the genes?

My second major problem is with the media. They would have you believe that the child was “controlling” or “directing” traffic. No such thing took place. The child merely made a few radio transmissions. Now I’m not a controller, but I know there’s more to ATC than simply keying the mic. The child was not controlling anything- he wasn’t coordinating runway crossings with the ground controller, he wasn’t coordinating releases with the departure control sector, he wasn’t writing on flightstrips and he wasn’t making any decisions based on separation. That is (some of) what air traffic control entails. Furthermore, the kid made the most basic transmissions- cleared for takeoff, and contact departure. Dad did all the heavy radio work. Are we really going to punish a controller for that?

What should be done? Talking to some controllers, it seems the FAA should thank this guy for inspiring somebody else to become a controller, because there are lots of unhappy controllers out there who wouldn’t mind leaving.

In all seriousness, the guy should get a slap on the wrist. He allowed his son to use the radio when the traffic was light. Everybody involved seemed to have enjoyed it. For all we know, the kid really brightened somebody’s day. I hope the FAA doesn’t cave in to media sensationalism. Nothing to see here folks, move along.

Miserable CFI's

This week I was sitting with a few flight instructors as they lamented the fact that they had so few students, and how they wish they made more money. About six of us were sitting around a table, and each man took his turn cursing the industry, and spoke about how it sucked to be a CFI. I decided to break the chain. Yes, I wish I had more students, and by extension more money, but I was happy with my position. They looked at me as if I’d been in the sun too long.

I reminded them that there are tons of CFI’s out there unsuccessfully looking for a job. Yes, we may not fly as much as we want to, but it’s better than sitting at home doing nothing- which is in turn better than working 9-5. As much as I’d like to see my position improve, it’s better than not flying and not getting paid.

I’m not one of those annoyingly over-optimistic persons, but every time I look at my glass as being half empty, I remember the pilots out there who aren’t flying at all, whose glasses are completely empty. I’m happy my glass still has something inside.