Instructional Inflexibility

Pilots are a rather self-assured lot. We have to be, in order to feel absolutely right about the actions we’re taking to successfully negotiate the “footless halls of air.” If we didn’t have confidence in the correctness of our decisions, we’d never leave the surface of this planet.

That said, such faith in our abilities sometimes creates a rigid mindset during debate over trivial matters. I’ve seen pilots almost come to blows over the best way to taxi an airplane, talk on the radio, or fly an approach. Each of the techniques being discussed could be right, or wrong, depending on the circumstances. In flying with maybe a thousand different pilots, I’ve somewhat corrupted myself with receiving advice from other folks, some of which I adopted, but much of it I considered and discarded.

Most pilots start out flying pretty much as they were taught, certain that this is the best way to do things. This carries on into flight instruction. Instructors adopt the familiar patois and procedures their own CFIs used, and in doing so might tend to think these are the only methods that work. I’ve learned, however, that there are many ways to achieve desired learning outcomes, and all of them are right. What I’ve gradually developed is my own particular style of teaching, blended from the best of the instructors I’ve known. And I also know that not all circumstances need the same instructional approach.

A Time For SOP

I’m a great believer in standard operating procedures, because they bring order to our existence and predictable results to our operations. In teaching, they form a basis for standardization of the syllabus. But they should not be so rigid as to deny innovation. Once an SOP is learned, a good pilot can alter the procedure to meet varying situations.

There is an airstrip, deep in the wilds of our wooded midlands, that demands a landing Skyhawk be flown at no more than the 60-knot recommended approach speed, decelerating while crossing the brush at the strip’s threshold. This is needed to slow comfortably enough to park at the terminating turnaround, a mere 2000 feet ahead. By comparison, I must give tower controllers at our local Class B airport no less than 110 knots when making an approach with the same 172, in order to maintain some spacing while landing between the steady queue of airline jets. I’ve learned just when to chop the throttle and nudge the flaps down as speed brakes, in order to exit at the Alpha-Three turnoff that leads to the only allowable parking.

My aim is to always operate each aircraft I fly in a way that maximizes its abilities, preserving its vital parts as much as possible. So, I employ the proper procedures and techniques for each situation and airplane type. What works in one place or cockpit would be wrong in another. Therefore, my job, as an instructor, is to teach creativity, not just check ride choreography. Normal SOP is a base-line profile of safe, comfortable, aircraft-preserving actions. I know that whistling in at high-cruise speed and quickly going to idle power and full flaps isn’t the best treatment for the engine or flap hinges, but it’s the only way to interact at Megaplex International. An occasional slam-dunk is not likely to cause damage over the long term. I’ve also found that employing different flying techniques can expand and improve one’s ability to control an airplane.

Flight instructors tend to be the least flexible of all pilots. Training is simpler with a cookie-cutter approach, check rides go more smoothly if creativity is subjugated, lesson planning takes less effort if identical stages are the norm. By doing so, we develop a safe pilot who will follow company policy. As is often quoted in Eastern culture, “Nail that sticks head up gets hit with hammer.” Conformity is expected.

But we also must teach the reason behind rote actions. 

For instance, at my school we do not teach primary students how to land by using touch-and-goes. We’ve found it better to have a minute or so of ground time while taxiing back to critique the recent effort, when the student is not distracted by piloting duties, and to be able to experience the full transitions from flight to taxi speed and from initial acceleration to liftoff. Thereby, fewer landings are needed to develop the skills needed to solo. But I also understand that other airports, with a constant string of planes in the pattern, will require employing the touch-and-go maneuver to avoid being stuck interminably at the hold-short line. Different strokes for different folks, out of necessity.

Some instructors get vociferous about touching and going, versus full stops, as if there’s only one way—their way—to do things. Instead, we need to look at what’s normal and what’s abnormal for each airport, being sure to understand why things are done in a certain way. What’s the reasoning behind turning crosswind at exactly 500 feet AGL? Why are clearing turns made precisely 180 degrees, or with two 90’s? The students we train should also carry such foundational insight into their own careers.

Standard Operating Procedures are developed for specific purposes. Some flight schools require mixture leaning before leaving the tie-down, and taxiing with the engine at 1000 rpm, wind and runway gradient notwithstanding. They’ve experienced spark plug fouling and valve sticking and feel these techniques are necessary to keep their trainer planes running properly. Other operators, more concerned with brake wear and forgetting to enrich the mixture for takeoff, teach minimal power and rich mixture for taxi. Who’s right? They both are, at the proper time and place.

Think Why

The most important thing an instructor can teach a student is not how to make a smooth takeoff or steep turn—it’s to think about what he or she is doing while flying. I gave a flight review to a young pilot recently, and on every landing, he extended 10 degrees of flap after reducing power for descent on the downwind leg. I didn’t say anything about it, because it was a review for recurrency, not a lesson on landings, but I had to wonder if he had ever considered why he was doing it, or if he was just following some ingrained school procedure. The airplane didn’t need it, his descending trajectory away from the runway didn’t require it, and it would produce no benefit until later in the approach pattern, when half or full flaps would be called for. I did remind him to vary his landing technique from time to time, trying a power-off landing occasionally, or even a no-flap landing for extreme winds.

Critical thinking, within the bounds of reason, is what helps us devise techniques that work best for a particular airplane doing a certain task. Avoid using a rigid policy-bound set of procedures, or a lazy lackadaisical approach to flying. Instead, think about what you’re doing and why you’re doing it that way, and maybe listen to how other pilots do it.

I know, for instance, that stroking the trim wheel two turns and adding a bit of opposite rudder will allow a Cessna 152 to fly an intimidating hands-off steep turn, all by itself. I didn’t learn this from reading a manual—I experimented with different techniques until I found what worked.

When operating a Beech Bonanza from unimproved surfaces, I typically use partial flaps for takeoff. This boosts the liftoff at 10 knots less airspeed, saving wear and tear on the landing gear and chipped propeller blades. This technique didn’t come from personal experimentation; I found it in some of the original Beechcraft owner’s manuals, written before legal concerns castrated creativity, which is the reason more modern BE35 handbooks don’t show the partial-flap takeoff procedure. 

Every operation must be conducted within the bounds of safety and, more than that, in a manner that’s comfortable for the airplane. Within those parameters, I can tolerate a student initially taught elsewhere who uses a different method to achieve results. If it works, and it’s safe, I’ll probably allow it. I might propose an alternate technique, but I won’t castigate a pilot for doing it their way. But, if you make the airplane suffer because you aren’t flying it right, you are going to hear from me.

Instructors are under pressure to produce a stock, safe, standard pilot in the minimum number of flying hours. At the same time, they need to make sure they’re not just teaching procedures, rather than flying. I can guarantee that, at some point in their career, that pilot they’ve created is going to run into a situation requiring adaptive thinking, beyond the checklist or POH pages. That’s why we shouldn’t argue about leaning the mixture below 5000 feet or teaching every student fully developed spins. There’s a time and a place for different concepts. Hopefully, CFI’s will teach students to think while flying, for both growth and survival.