Flight instructor, Mother, Punching bag
I thought for a minute that I was off the hook from giving my CFI-in-training a gentle verbal slap on the hand and tell him to get his act together and study. Turns out, I was wrong.
This morning, i very kindly escorted him to several eons' worth of study assignments-more importantly, homework for tomorrow morning. Then, this evening, I made dinner while he sat with my computer browsing the internet for pictures of airplanes. As i ate my food, he was still there. As i took a 30-minute nap, he was still there. As i read in my room for 45 minutes, he was still there. I washed the dishes, got ready for bed, bundled up the trash. He was still there. All the while, i was simmering inside with words like "I am not your mother to be constantly and bonevolently nudging you to study" and, "I studied harder than you are now every day for eight months before i got my CFI" and "i'm sorry to see you're not prepared this morning; guess i get to do something else fun for which I am prepared" and "well, i'm not going to lose my flight time just because you're not ready to teach me" and on and on. As i walked with the trash bag over to the door, I saw him stand up! Finally, after three hours (!!!) of looking at airplanes online, was he going to study and prepare for tomorrow? Now i don't have to let loose the words that had been building up with a passion, right? Wrong. He got up to get a drink and then go at it again.
How would that make you feel? After hours of guiding a student to know what he needs to know and do, then seeing him/her spend ceaseless wasted hours is disheartening. It makes understandable how some parents of the animal kingdom cat eat their young. In the end, I read to him from a flight instructor article that "a flight instructor can only show students the way to learning; it's the student's responsibility to know what he needs to know and to make sure he gets it", and then I shared the whammo "i studied harder than you..." thought. He was out the door in two minutes with his books.
I wish i would have been the scrupulous and worrisome mother-figure when it came to a couple of my students' being ready for the checkride. I wish i would have drilled with questions and queried for explanations so i found the real holes that were in their knowledge. As a teacher, i found that i have overestimated what my students know and can do just because of the way they are. "If they're uncertain about a subject or concept, they'll open up and tell me," I reasoned. No more of that, now. I have to be pragmatic and real. Michael Buckland told me that I know probably 100 times more about aviation than my students. But I don't know even 10% of what my students don't know if i take their knowledge just by faith. I need to test harder and more thoroughly, and i need to make sure the studying is getting done. To what extent, however, do i point the finger like that mother-figure and say "now you go do your homework, Jonny!" I admit, I was at my patience's end this evening with my present student. I'll keep doing the best i know how. I will rest my own success on my own effort. As my dear friend Angela said (in essence), "Your success or failure does not depend on your students succeeding or failing. You fail only if you fail your students by not giving them your best."
---
Speaking of Mother, mine called today to check on me as she does faithfully. She's getting quite anxious for my coming home. She reminded me of that fact, and as a consequently she started the countdown to home-going day. I saw the calendar on my phone screen and saw, four rows down from today, the 29th of September. Departure date. As Mom said, I do have mixed feelings surrounding the idea of leaving. On the one hand, this isn't the same King Ranch that it was three weeks ago when Randy, Angela, Daisy, Philip, Joel, Dan, Brian, Philip and the others were here. Elmo, you're right on; "the people make the place." The feeling without them all here is so different, so melancholy. Granted, doing dishes is a less arduous task, and i get to use the bathroom whenever I will, but I miss the fellowship and the life they brought. With them, I felt my heart, mind and spirit flourish, and not an hour went by lacked adventure or excitement. I miss them.
But a book i bought this summer has encouraged me tonight. Bush Pilots of Alaska, the book i bought a pair of for Daisy and myself, has outstanding stories that inspire and enchant me in almost the same way that Alaska flying itself does. Here's a couple quotes that have brightened my day:
"The man who has flown for hours above the northland and mastered the techniques of doing so will not again be content to be chained in traffic above a maze of roads, telephone poles, cities and towns."
"You know, flying in Alaska is really not such a hazardous business, provided you go about it in a careful, methodical manner. But if you don't, it's extremely hazardous."
"The mountains, the fjords, and tundra, the glaciers and wildlife -- they steal your heart away. No wonder Noel Wien said, "It tugs at you all the time." Once you have flown the Last Frontier, face it; you are spoiled."
I vividly remember flying down on the Matanuska river for the first time in the late 66402 (may she rest in peace). I thought to myself, "I would be happy to go home right now, having had this amazing experience in my life." Over 110 Alaska flight hours and just as many remarkable experiences later, I can say that I am spoiled. At the same time, i am aware of how much more spoiled i can get! I have seen so little of the Great State despite my having seen so much. My looking through books like Bush Pilots of Alaska makes me more aware of where I have not been. I am thrilled to see pictures of Talkeetna, Wasilla, and Lake Hood airports (the busiest seaplane base in the world) and scenery such as Denali, Chugach and Alaska ranges and Cook Inlet and Matanuska river because i've been to and seen all those places. But that's like going to Navy Pier and missing the rest of Chicago. So much to see; so little time and opportunity. I am SO thankful for what i've experienced. I was pleased at first with the least of what Alaska had to offer, and now I have seen some of its finest. Last week I saw for the first time Denali while flying to Anchorage. ["Denali" is what Alaskans call Mt. McKinley; they differ from the Outside also in their definition of "snowmachine"] This all goes to say that I'm rediscovering my first love for being here--beholding from the privileged perspective of an airplane God's magnificience on display.
---
I'm beginning to have mixed feelings about Shane, too. Tonight I just wanted to pummel him as he just walked up randomly several times and punched me on the shoulder. In the course of my 30-minute nap, my mind was full of fantasies of how i could most quickly whip him good enough to scare him out of hitting me at random again. However, i feel a higher purpose than to stay unscathed in the course of my relationship with him.
And I'm having new feelings about Daisy. Being away from her has given me distance to think and reset my emotions. I still have connections to the past; to the feelings that bid me cry on four occasions over her being gone, to the poetry, to the brightness and liveliness she ushered in. Distance did make the heart grow fonder for a bit; as I have listened in a favorite Rascal Flatts song, "The next thing ya know, I'm reminiscing, dreaming old dreams, wishing old wishes, like you would be back again." Time and events have turned that around. As you said, Elmo, talking with her is different: You get barely into the double-digits of your discussion time over the phone, then she says an abrupt good-bye and that's all you get. As for me, I sent out three emails to her in the past five days; to the first two she did not respond, but to the third one she did only because I employed a device to manipulate her to do so. You read me right; I manipulated her. I used the statement that kicked off many of our grand conversations: "Are we OK?" (Remember that one, Elmo?) There was no way she could resist for a minute not replying to that question, and I knew it. My idea did work, and she wrote a letter that got barely into the double-digits of typewritten line. She did admit to having 'a million excuses' but that she just didn't reply to the other emails and that she intended on calling me yesterday but that something else came up.
In one of my poems about her, I write, "Why does she have to seem so perfect, so beautiful?" Well, the rose-colored glasses are slipping off, and i'm seeing now someone whose resolve to keep a couple very caring friends is waning by the day. What can I say? I am trying. I pray for her. I write to her more than most of my closer friends; I was desperate to just get a letter from her. I keep my calls to her 3 different numbers to a minimum so to avoid the appearance of stalking.
In the past, I've used the alias "Jode" in place of her real name, Daisy Delay. I'm certain now that she won't be finding my or Elmo's blog. So, no more alias.
She comes tomorrow (Friday) night, and the plan is that she and Anthony will cook a big salmon dinner. Then, as far as i know, on Saturday, Shane and I will go with her and Anthony to the Alaska State Fair. I estimate most of my time will be spent with Shane and getting socked more. That will be ok, i think. At least he gives me attention.
--
For my closing thought, I'd like to share an insight that Tim Harbeck told me at 2 AM one morning while he was here. He has had near-death experiences even closer than I have encountered, and he has an admirable appreciation for life. He says that he considers each day therefore as a 'bonus' from God. That came to mind last night as I was praying, and in my spirit i conceptualized everything escaping my possession the minute i fell asleep and returning to me afresh the second I awoke the next day. God's mercies come to us anew every morning, says Lamentations.
So, live this day as if it is a bonus from God to you.
This morning, i very kindly escorted him to several eons' worth of study assignments-more importantly, homework for tomorrow morning. Then, this evening, I made dinner while he sat with my computer browsing the internet for pictures of airplanes. As i ate my food, he was still there. As i took a 30-minute nap, he was still there. As i read in my room for 45 minutes, he was still there. I washed the dishes, got ready for bed, bundled up the trash. He was still there. All the while, i was simmering inside with words like "I am not your mother to be constantly and bonevolently nudging you to study" and, "I studied harder than you are now every day for eight months before i got my CFI" and "i'm sorry to see you're not prepared this morning; guess i get to do something else fun for which I am prepared" and "well, i'm not going to lose my flight time just because you're not ready to teach me" and on and on. As i walked with the trash bag over to the door, I saw him stand up! Finally, after three hours (!!!) of looking at airplanes online, was he going to study and prepare for tomorrow? Now i don't have to let loose the words that had been building up with a passion, right? Wrong. He got up to get a drink and then go at it again.
How would that make you feel? After hours of guiding a student to know what he needs to know and do, then seeing him/her spend ceaseless wasted hours is disheartening. It makes understandable how some parents of the animal kingdom cat eat their young. In the end, I read to him from a flight instructor article that "a flight instructor can only show students the way to learning; it's the student's responsibility to know what he needs to know and to make sure he gets it", and then I shared the whammo "i studied harder than you..." thought. He was out the door in two minutes with his books.
I wish i would have been the scrupulous and worrisome mother-figure when it came to a couple of my students' being ready for the checkride. I wish i would have drilled with questions and queried for explanations so i found the real holes that were in their knowledge. As a teacher, i found that i have overestimated what my students know and can do just because of the way they are. "If they're uncertain about a subject or concept, they'll open up and tell me," I reasoned. No more of that, now. I have to be pragmatic and real. Michael Buckland told me that I know probably 100 times more about aviation than my students. But I don't know even 10% of what my students don't know if i take their knowledge just by faith. I need to test harder and more thoroughly, and i need to make sure the studying is getting done. To what extent, however, do i point the finger like that mother-figure and say "now you go do your homework, Jonny!" I admit, I was at my patience's end this evening with my present student. I'll keep doing the best i know how. I will rest my own success on my own effort. As my dear friend Angela said (in essence), "Your success or failure does not depend on your students succeeding or failing. You fail only if you fail your students by not giving them your best."
---
Speaking of Mother, mine called today to check on me as she does faithfully. She's getting quite anxious for my coming home. She reminded me of that fact, and as a consequently she started the countdown to home-going day. I saw the calendar on my phone screen and saw, four rows down from today, the 29th of September. Departure date. As Mom said, I do have mixed feelings surrounding the idea of leaving. On the one hand, this isn't the same King Ranch that it was three weeks ago when Randy, Angela, Daisy, Philip, Joel, Dan, Brian, Philip and the others were here. Elmo, you're right on; "the people make the place." The feeling without them all here is so different, so melancholy. Granted, doing dishes is a less arduous task, and i get to use the bathroom whenever I will, but I miss the fellowship and the life they brought. With them, I felt my heart, mind and spirit flourish, and not an hour went by lacked adventure or excitement. I miss them.
But a book i bought this summer has encouraged me tonight. Bush Pilots of Alaska, the book i bought a pair of for Daisy and myself, has outstanding stories that inspire and enchant me in almost the same way that Alaska flying itself does. Here's a couple quotes that have brightened my day:
"The man who has flown for hours above the northland and mastered the techniques of doing so will not again be content to be chained in traffic above a maze of roads, telephone poles, cities and towns."
"You know, flying in Alaska is really not such a hazardous business, provided you go about it in a careful, methodical manner. But if you don't, it's extremely hazardous."
"The mountains, the fjords, and tundra, the glaciers and wildlife -- they steal your heart away. No wonder Noel Wien said, "It tugs at you all the time." Once you have flown the Last Frontier, face it; you are spoiled."
I vividly remember flying down on the Matanuska river for the first time in the late 66402 (may she rest in peace). I thought to myself, "I would be happy to go home right now, having had this amazing experience in my life." Over 110 Alaska flight hours and just as many remarkable experiences later, I can say that I am spoiled. At the same time, i am aware of how much more spoiled i can get! I have seen so little of the Great State despite my having seen so much. My looking through books like Bush Pilots of Alaska makes me more aware of where I have not been. I am thrilled to see pictures of Talkeetna, Wasilla, and Lake Hood airports (the busiest seaplane base in the world) and scenery such as Denali, Chugach and Alaska ranges and Cook Inlet and Matanuska river because i've been to and seen all those places. But that's like going to Navy Pier and missing the rest of Chicago. So much to see; so little time and opportunity. I am SO thankful for what i've experienced. I was pleased at first with the least of what Alaska had to offer, and now I have seen some of its finest. Last week I saw for the first time Denali while flying to Anchorage. ["Denali" is what Alaskans call Mt. McKinley; they differ from the Outside also in their definition of "snowmachine"] This all goes to say that I'm rediscovering my first love for being here--beholding from the privileged perspective of an airplane God's magnificience on display.
---
I'm beginning to have mixed feelings about Shane, too. Tonight I just wanted to pummel him as he just walked up randomly several times and punched me on the shoulder. In the course of my 30-minute nap, my mind was full of fantasies of how i could most quickly whip him good enough to scare him out of hitting me at random again. However, i feel a higher purpose than to stay unscathed in the course of my relationship with him.
And I'm having new feelings about Daisy. Being away from her has given me distance to think and reset my emotions. I still have connections to the past; to the feelings that bid me cry on four occasions over her being gone, to the poetry, to the brightness and liveliness she ushered in. Distance did make the heart grow fonder for a bit; as I have listened in a favorite Rascal Flatts song, "The next thing ya know, I'm reminiscing, dreaming old dreams, wishing old wishes, like you would be back again." Time and events have turned that around. As you said, Elmo, talking with her is different: You get barely into the double-digits of your discussion time over the phone, then she says an abrupt good-bye and that's all you get. As for me, I sent out three emails to her in the past five days; to the first two she did not respond, but to the third one she did only because I employed a device to manipulate her to do so. You read me right; I manipulated her. I used the statement that kicked off many of our grand conversations: "Are we OK?" (Remember that one, Elmo?) There was no way she could resist for a minute not replying to that question, and I knew it. My idea did work, and she wrote a letter that got barely into the double-digits of typewritten line. She did admit to having 'a million excuses' but that she just didn't reply to the other emails and that she intended on calling me yesterday but that something else came up.
In one of my poems about her, I write, "Why does she have to seem so perfect, so beautiful?" Well, the rose-colored glasses are slipping off, and i'm seeing now someone whose resolve to keep a couple very caring friends is waning by the day. What can I say? I am trying. I pray for her. I write to her more than most of my closer friends; I was desperate to just get a letter from her. I keep my calls to her 3 different numbers to a minimum so to avoid the appearance of stalking.
In the past, I've used the alias "Jode" in place of her real name, Daisy Delay. I'm certain now that she won't be finding my or Elmo's blog. So, no more alias.
She comes tomorrow (Friday) night, and the plan is that she and Anthony will cook a big salmon dinner. Then, as far as i know, on Saturday, Shane and I will go with her and Anthony to the Alaska State Fair. I estimate most of my time will be spent with Shane and getting socked more. That will be ok, i think. At least he gives me attention.
--
For my closing thought, I'd like to share an insight that Tim Harbeck told me at 2 AM one morning while he was here. He has had near-death experiences even closer than I have encountered, and he has an admirable appreciation for life. He says that he considers each day therefore as a 'bonus' from God. That came to mind last night as I was praying, and in my spirit i conceptualized everything escaping my possession the minute i fell asleep and returning to me afresh the second I awoke the next day. God's mercies come to us anew every morning, says Lamentations.
So, live this day as if it is a bonus from God to you.
posted by Radar | 11:59 PM
1 Comments:
So I wrote you this HUGE reply last night, and then my mom's crappy computer froze, and the whole thing was lost.
Maybe we could talk about it on the phone.
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