Happy accidents and gratifying outcomes

As I enter the twilight of my career, I find great amusement in the realization that I am nowhere near where I thought I was headed.

You see, as a much younger man I thought I was going to be an airline pilot — that venerable position of responsibility that comes with heaping helpings of respect and admiration. The size of the paycheck was appealing as well.

But I’m not an airline pilot. I’ve never even seriously flirted with the idea of flying big iron.

Instead, I got sidetracked by my affection for small aircraft, grass roots aviation, and the absolute joy of sharing the skills that take us skyward with those who have an interest. I’m a teacher. An advocate. A serial instigator of aeronautical adventure. Just as you might be, should you choose to take that path.

In fairness, I should point out, however, that I am not qualified to teach in a public school. As a high school graduate with precious few college credits, the traditional view is that my five existing FAA certifications do not count as evidence of my capability to instruct young minds. While I taught my youngest to read by the time she was three years old, I am not welcome to stand at the head of the class in a conventional classroom. I’ve been a contributor to books that were used in high school and college programs, but I am told I am not qualified to read those books to the class.

Education is not what most of us believe it is. Frankly, traditional methods of teaching are not in my wheelhouse. I focus on a far wider view than simply memorizing multiplication tables, historical dates, and scientific facts.

Rather, my goal is to show my students in demonstrable terms that they have potential far beyond what they might have believed, to do whatever it is they want to do.

Oh, it’s probably worth mentioning that I consider everyone I meet to be a potential student. They are also all teachers. Everyone knows something I don’t know. Something worth learning and understanding at some level. And vice versa.

For the past couple years I’ve been spending much of my free time working in a hot, nasty hangar with a bunch of kids who don’t know which end of a screwdriver to use.

The obvious goal is to restore a couple classic aircraft. The actual goal is far more nuanced than that. It’s sweaty work. It can be costly, too. There’s hardly a week that goes by when I don’t have to run off to pick up some tool, or part, or material that is needed to complete the task at hand.

These little expenditures are hardly a serious detractor from this hobby I’ve carved out for myself.

It’s my belief that we all have an impact on the world and the people around us. We can expend the effort to make that impact positive, or lay back and allow our presence to be generally negative. None of us are invisible. The outcome of our time on the planet will not be null. It can be for the better or the worse. There is no other option.

I tell you this because making a constructive difference in the lives of others isn’t really all that hard. And you don’t have to spend a great deal of money on the quest if you’d rather not. Or you could. It’s not mandatory.

All you really need to do is dedicate some time to the endeavor and genuinely try to help the ignorant become less ignorant. That’s the whole deal.

My kids, and yes, I routinely refer to them as my kids, are a rotating group of about 35 high school and college students who have an interest in aviation. The one unifying factor is that none of them has a clue about any aspect of aviation when we first meet. It’s also true they often possess deeply held misinformed beliefs as fact.

The tool thing, that’s an area of real bewilderment. As an example, there was the time I asked one of my kids to grab a 9/16-inch wrench from the toolbox. He came back with an adjustable wrench. I’ve also asked for a pair of needle nose pliers and was handed a pair of water pump pliers instead.

These are teachable moments. Thankfully, the hangar is full of them.

As is the taxiway and runway just outside our door. When the weather is overcast and blustery, that becomes the basis for a spontaneous ground school lesson. When an airplane takes off downwind, we talk about it. When an aircraft enters on a right hand pattern even though our runways have established left hand patterns, we discuss it.

Everything is a lesson in waiting. Even the most basic tasks and bits of knowledge can become serious learning opportunities for kids who want to understand and be proficient in the field.

They appreciate the insights, too. After each hangar session they go home knowing more than they knew when they showed up that day. With each subsequent visit they are more and more deeply enthralled with aviation, and learning, and teamwork.

Of all the challenging landings I’ve greased, of all the long cross-countries I’ve accomplished without getting lost, and of the various in-flight challenges I’ve overcome safely, nothing compares to the satisfaction I get when a cluster of kids rebuilds an engine, then watches it run for the first time. When they remove, refurbish, and replace a tailwheel. When they change a tube and tire. All new experiences for them. Tasks they thought of as impossible when they walked into the hangar, but felt pedestrian and totally understandable when they walked out.

And that’s to say nothing of the look on their faces when they exit the airplane after their first time at the controls.

Aviation may be the great educational reactant that can rejuvenate our educational systems and prime our youth to thirst for a lifetime of learning.

Best of all, anyone can be a part of it. Even you. All you have to do is try.