Safety Spotlight: An openness to learn

The Air Force assigned me a class date nine months after college graduation, so I spent the time lurking around Slidell Municipal Airport, making a few bucks here and there and flying when I could afford it. My father had recently purchased a 1950 Navion, and I logged quite a bit of time in it with him, and with Tony. The added complexity of retractable gear and a constant-speed propeller helped prepare me for the demands of the Air Force T–37 jet trainer.

Soon after training started, I began to see the wisdom of Tony’s advice. A typical Air Force pilot training class is filled with people from various backgrounds and experience levels. Surprisingly, the people who sometimes struggle the most are the pilots who come in with the most experience. They’ve learned a certain way and are reluctant to release old habits and, more important, reluctant to learn new, often better techniques more suited to the environment they are now flying in.

I was bemused by students arguing with instructors over minor differences in communication terminology or technique on flying a single-engine ILS. Often the arguments were an attempt to justify a poor performance or fend off a poor grade. Sometimes the students would win the argument, and then actually believe they gained from the encounter. Talk about winning the battle and losing the war! Their stubbornness did them more harm than good, not just in their relationships with instructors, but also in their potential to advance as pilots and their willingness and ability to adapt to new, different or changing environments and technology.

Sometimes, I see this coming the other way. Pilots transitioning from commercial or military aviation into the deceptively informal general aviation environment can get caught underestimating the skill and airmanship required. Part of the great joy in general aviation is the lack of suffocating oversight and restrictive procedure. The freedom felt pulling an aircraft out of a hangar, flipping on the mags, cranking the engine, and then getting airborne within minutes, flying virtually anywhere we choose, via any route we choose, on the time schedule we choose is precious. But this freedom demands a special attention and a level of airmanship different than what is required in professional flying, where regulations mandate many pilot actions. In general aviation we serve as our own dispatcher, weather analyst, chief of maintenance, chief of operations, chief flight instructor, and chief financial officer. Without specific and detailed rules, we count on our own judgment and assessment, relying on the knowledge we’ve gained and the experience we’ve built.

Some stick-and-rudder skills not commonly used in commercial or military aviation are critical in general aviation. Rudders specifically come to mind, as does energy management and attitude awareness with under-powered airplanes. The skills developed dogfighting an F–15, air-to-air refueling, or flying combat formations at night were challenging to acquire and difficult to master. They did not offer a great advantage in learning to land a tail-dragger in a crosswind or navigating canyons and narrow, short, unprepared strips in the backcountry. Getting behind a 787 on a demanding overseas approach and working through language barriers will raise your stress level. Forget to set takeoff trim in a Cessna 185, or try a late full-power go-around in a Bonanza configured and trimmed with gear and full flaps, and you’ll be equally stressed.

“Forget everything you’ve learned….” Well, that’s a bit much, but the posture it suggests is helpful. Transitioning into any new environment, regardless of experience level, is aided by an openness to learn, to accept instruction, to leave egos tied down on the ramp, and work to understand and master the distinctions needed in a new environment.

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