Another empty kitchen

I had raced from the airport and barely made it in time to collect him from school. When the boys were in elementary school, they knew that, on a day like this, making dinner would not complete my long list of tasks. After all, there were always good leftovers in the fridge and their job was to call dibs and turn it into dinner for themselves.

This summer marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of my first flight as a student pilot. I only started after earning tenure at the university, a job that I love. But it soon became clear that aviation would become a significant part of both my personal and professional lives, so I compensated for my late start by making up for lost time. When an opportunity to fly presented itself, I grabbed it even though doing so meant long days rushing to meet my commitments. Over the years, and especially on this anniversary, I’ve reflected on how effective I have been as a mother. It’s the same type of reflection in which flight instructors should engage as they assess their role as mentor.

As a designated pilot examiner, I see how flight instructors have guided their students toward pilot certification. My heart sinks when I review a candidate’s logbook and see that for all but just a few of those flight hours, an instructor was on board. I’m not knocking the value of flight instruction, but I know that I have learned some of my most valuable lessons when I could rely only on myself.

Of all the topics in the FAA’s Fundamentals of Instruction, the levels of learning—rote, understanding, application, and correlation—resonates with me most of all. With respect to VX airspeed, for example, a pilot who can rattle off that VX for her airplane is 70 knots has achieved a rote level. When she explains that VX is the airspeed that provides the maximum climb angle, she demonstrates understanding. If she plans to depart from a shorter runway and pitches for VX airspeed until she achieves a safe margin above any obstacles, she has successfully applied her knowledge. I like to think of correlation as using what we’ve learned in a new situation. So, if a pilot needs to fly over higher terrain (and turning away isn’t an option), then VX airspeed will provide maximal clearance.

It may seem reasonable that a pilot who has achieved rote and understanding levels can apply but that is, sadly, not the case. The FAA correctly stresses that the key to achieving the higher levels comes from scenario-based training. Those scenarios can be presented as thought exercises or the real ones that occur when we just get out and fly.

PilotWorkshops is a group from Nashua, New Hampshire, that offers monthly scenarios for both VFR and IFR pilots. Each involves a pilot who finds herself in a sticky situation and considers various options toward a safe outcome. Several professionals with varying areas of expertise in aviation then discuss the merits and pitfalls of each option. As an occasional roundtable participant, I’m continually impressed that there is rarely one strategy favored by all and just how much I learn from my colleagues there. Their scenarios can be a wonderful complement to those provided by flight instructors.

Some of the best learning experiences, and clearly the most realistic scenarios, are the ones that just happen. While I am charged with providing challenging situations for practical exam candidates, occasionally life just dishes them up and I just sit back and watch. Whether it’s an oil temperature gauge pegged high on startup, a fuel gauge with a big red X over it on the PFD, or an airplane with an expired transponder inspection, the candidate needs to figure out by herself whether it would be legal and safe to conduct the flight. Using her resources to figure out a reasonable answer shows she’s ready to operate safely as a certificated pilot. Flight instructors should provide ample scenarios to help students learn to fend for themselves.

My own long list of experiences includes a rudder that deflected hard left in flight without warning, a carbon monoxide card that turned dark, an alternator failure from a broken belt, landing gear that failed to extend and a nervous student who bent my throttle handle down, so we had only partial power until landing. More extreme examples were hitting a deer, a turkey vulture that came through my windscreen, and having a turbocharger die at the worst possible moment on takeoff. In each case though, I figured it out so that the flight had a successful ending. And I gained confidence in my own ability to address anomalies with rationality and calm.

Even after so many years of flying, my own education continues. Last June I spent more than 30 hours flying my Bonanza from Tennessee to Seattle along the northern route and back by flying down the west coast then cutting east through the southwest. While landing in Billings, Montana, on a hot day, I made the mistake of closing the throttle completely on landing and the engine died on rollout. I tried unsuccessfully to restart Niky as I coasted off onto the taxiway. To make matters worse, the taxiway was uphill, so she came to a stop before fully crossing the land-and-hold-short line. In what seemed like an eternity, I tried all the hot start procedures I could remember as the tower barked at two corporate jets, “Go around!” By the time the engine finally roared to life, I’m sure I had lost about five pounds sweating that one.

Of course, not all surprises are stressful. One of my favorites occurred during a summer adventure I shared with the boys as we made our way from the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio, to Madison, Wisconsin. Jack asked if we could stop for lunch on the north side of Chicago. He chose Lovell’s restaurant because it was owned by his favorite astronaut whose son was the head chef. We needed to grab lunch somewhere, so I agreed. Flying low along the Lake Shore of Chicago and below the traffic operating to and from O’Hare alone made the excursion worthwhile for me.

We landed in Waukegan and drove down to the restaurant in Lake Forest. I told the server that if any of the Lovells were available, we would be excited to meet them. She responded, “Well, Captain is upstairs.” Not five minutes later, Jim Lovell, the commander of Apollo 13, joined us at our table. Although my guys peppered him with myriad questions, he posed as many to them. Captain Lovell finally took us on a tour of the restaurant complete with Apollo memorabilia. That spur-of-the-moment stop turned out to be the highlight of our two-week adventure. The boys view Jim Lovell not as just their idol but as a genuinely nice person as well. And we owe it all to the marvels of GA. So many good things happen when we just get out and fly.

Jack and Pete are now making their way into the world where they will fend for themselves with the skills they’ve learned. As imperfect as the nest I created was, I note that they are both happy, gainfully employed, own and drive cars with a stick shift, and they can figure out how to forage for food. And sometimes it’s even with a famous astronaut. I’m chalking this parenting thing up as a success.