Teaching Julia

Julia grew up in an airline family. Her mom and I worked for major airlines, mom as a customer service representative, me as a pilot. She wanted to be a pilot ever since she was young. She loved airplanes. She had her first glider ride before she was two. Growing up she began to show a remarkable talent in art, and her attention turned in that direction. Somewhere in her senior year Julia and I were talking to her art teacher who asked her plans for the future. Julia replied that she wanted to be a pilot or an art teacher. As we walked to the car, I told her she did not have to be a pilot for me, but at some point I would like her to learn to fly. She graduated from college with a degree in graphic design followed by a job with a major greeting card company.

Now that she had a “big girl job,” I asked her if she would like to learn to fly. She jumped at the opportunity and enrolled in a private pilot ground school at Medina Airport (1G5) in Ohio. I would be her flight instructor.

I have kept my flight instructor certificate current for the past 40 years, but I had not done any real instructing. I sat in on her ground school to be refreshed on the world of VFR flying and light aircraft operations. My hands-on light aircraft skills also needed to be polished after 35 years of transport category airplanes. I have always said that all airplanes fly the same but handle differently.

As the lessons progressed, I was challenged to stay ahead of the game, reaching deep into my experience to provide effective instruction as well as hitting the books and the airmen certification standards. There is a big difference between being a captain on a Boeing 737 and teaching a primary student. The lessons progressed into the landing phase, but were slowed a bit by fickle spring winds and weather. I eventually had Julia fly with another instructor to check her progress. All was going well. Now we got into what we call “the Dad zone” where an excessive amount of caution is required; after all, that was my little girl that I was about to solo. I threw her every curve I could, and she responded skillfully. Julia soloed on a beautiful May evening and did an exceptional job.

By this time Julia had changed directions and set her sights on a career as a pilot. The greeting card job ended in a layoff, and she took a job at Medina Airport doing everything from cutting grass to plowing snow, fixing runway lights, and assisting on aircraft maintenance. As the summer progressed so did her flight training. She passed the knowledge test and completed her cross-country requirement, and I prepared her for her checkride. She passed her private checkride with flying colors and moved on to obtaining her instrument rating. I began to feel more comfortable providing instrument instruction, but I solicited advice on teaching instruments in the single-engine, non-GPS environment. I also hit the books again, as my last 35 years were spent at the flight levels with a significant degree of automation and flight director guidance. Julia also hit the books and found an instrument ground school, once again passing the knowledge test with a handsome score. We progressed in the training, had another phase check, and headed to the checkride—once again in the Dad zone. She completed the certification and started working toward the commercial. I was becoming more comfortable with my instructing skills, but I had not done a chandelle or lazy 8 or any other commercial maneuver in years. My confidence was not at a high level with this scenario. Again, we hit the books and worked toward the commercial, referencing the ACS, and another phase check to make sure we were in the ballpark. The checkride went as planned; now on to the flight instructor certificate.

Now we got into what we call “the Dad zone” where an excessive amount of caution is required; after all, that was my little girl I was about to solo.
From the beginning I was of the mind to send Julia elsewhere for her CFI. I still recall the nightmare I experienced obtaining my CFI, when checkrides were conducted by the FAA. The checkrides took place at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport (CLE) requiring applicants to fly to Cleveland to meet with the examiner. I made the trip from Medina—at that time called Freedom Field—four times. The first time I didn’t get beyond the first question on the oral. After that, I chipped away until I was awarded the certificate. Many of my fellow applicants at the time experienced similar difficulties. The word around the FBO was the FAA was making certification of CFIs more difficult to get a better grasp on the accident rate.

I have to add that until after my first attempt, I had not seen or been made aware of the practical test standards, the forerunner of the airmen certification standards. This represents a gap in the process. Of course, I eventually received certification, but the scars remained.

I checked Julia out in the right seat, and we forged ahead into the CFI. Once more we hit the books and worked on the maneuvers. Julia passed both the knowledge tests and accomplished the spin endorsement, and we finished up on the maneuvers and prepared for the oral. This time scheduling did not allow for a phase check, so we proceeded without one. Julia was now a CFI.

Julia put in a tremendous amount of work on her own. Her preparation for the orals, especially for the CFI, was impressive. Julia created a plethora of extraordinary visual aids: a stall spin poster, a diagram of the lift equation, as well as a model airplane with movable control surfaces, among others. She passed four checkrides—instrument, commercial, multiengine, and CFI—in five months.

Her goal for 2020 was to have a flying job paycheck and give me my flight review. She achieved her goal, but my greatest accomplishment was taking my little girl from lesson one to CFI—and I have her signature on my flight review.

Michael G. Holmberg is a retired United Airlines pilot.