60 | SEPTEMBER 2019 FLYINGMAG.COM
LEADING EDGE
low-level wind shear. Thankfully, the
stick-and-rudder skills he ingrained
in me early on ended up saving my
life. Throughout our time together,
Neil gave me just the right balance of
encouragement and criticism. Above
all, he let me make mistakes: the kind
that etch themselves into your brain
in a way no amount of instruction
ever could. He never let me get close to
hurting either of us, but he did let me
touch the stove once or twice.
Neil was able to teach me all this
because of the way our personal-
ities intersected. He has a pater-
nal quality to him; I lost my father
when I was young. As a student, I
was hungry to learn and also eager
to please a father figure. Gettingaccolades from someone you admire
is, in itself, a motivation—and that’s
fine, as long as you’re learning and
not just basking in praise. I was
acutely aware of this dynamic and
careful to keep an eye on it, but it
was ultimately useful in my educa-
tion. More recent, with additionalexperience under my belt, I returned
for recurrent training, and we would
sometimes butt heads. Accolades
are no longer the carrot on the stick
they once were. I am more impa-
tient and want to dictate the pace
of my instruction. I felt some of the
details he was getting hung up on
were not as important as he did. I ama different (read: difficult) student.
Our dynamic shifted.
The way we react to others is often
historical and therefore hard to
detect. This requires caution. Why do
we trust this instructor? Hopefullyit’s based on objective criteria. But it
could be something else. Do we mis-
interpret silence for intelligence?
Confidence as know-how? Verbosity
as mastery? It ’s different for every-
one, but no one is immune. We are
drawn to certain personality types,
and it sometimes has no correlation
to merit. That comfort we feel can be
misplaced and end up costing us. A
friend told me about an instructor he
trusted so much, had become so famil-
iar with, that during a recent lesson
in hard IMC, he simply gave up and
handed the controls over to this CFI
when he felt just the initial signs of
being overwhelmed. He could have
turned on the autopilot and reorga-
nized, but he did not. He had become
so trusting that he knew there were
no real stakes—his teacher would be
able to get him out of anything. At this
point, you stop learning.
I have a new CFI who I will be
training with when I pick up my
Bonanza next week in Colorado.
Eric Eviston specializes in teaching
in Bonanzas, so he is well-suited to
explaining the ins and outs of my
airplane. We had one lesson this past
fall before I brought N1750W in for
her winter-long restoration. I am
eager to begin training again once I—
very carefully—f ly her home to KMSV
in Monticello, New York.
It will be interesting to see how Eric
and I interact. What do I need from
an instructor at this point? Expertise,
certainly. But what kind of teaching
style will I respond to? I’m not sure.
I’m a very different pilot than I was
just a year ago. I certainly have a lot to
learn. What I do know is that a CFI or
mechanic or movie director’s bedside
manner will inf luence how and how
well that happens.Bedside MannerBen and his instructor, Neil.ACCOLADES ARE NO LONGER THE CARROT
ON THE STICK THEY ONCE WERE. I AM
MORE IMPATIENT AND WANT TO DICTATE
THE PACE OF MY INSTRUCTION.
COURTESYBEN^YOUNGER