...I am a flight instructor. I want to thank all of you for your very kind words in the status update. It means a lot to know that I have your support and to know that you care (at least to some extent :)). So, I guess this will be the story of my check ride.
It all started on Friday night. We were getting ready to go out on the boat to judge Christmas lights in the inner coastal when I got the call. At least I think it was Friday? Anyways, I still had one last prep-for-check ride flight to do and the only place I could do it was Ft Lauderdale, FL. In a perfect world, I would have finished my two flights while I was there and did my check ride there, but this isn't a perfect world. So, I drove the 4ish hours down to Ft Lauderdale and did my 2 hour flight. The flight went really well and without much delay, I had my logbook endorsed for my check ride and started my 4ish hour drive back to Tampa.
After 8 hours of driving and two hours of flying from the day before, I slept in on Monday. When I eventually woke up, I spent the entire day studying and going over everything. When I say everything, I mean everything. They can ask questions about the fundamentals of instruction, aerodynamics, aircraft systems, how various instruments work, flight planning, and the list goes on. This check ride is designed to be the hardest one for a reason. If you are going to be trusted to teach other people how to fly, they figure you should know as much information as possible and be able to present it in a logical, understandable way.
And then came Tuesday. I woke up, got some coffee and headed into the flight school. The check ride was scheduled for 1pm and after sitting for an hour doing some prep at the flight school, one of the instructors got a message that my examiner wanted to move it up an hour. I had no problem with the change in time. I just had to run to the bank to pick up the $600 cash to pay the examiner fee and I should be ready to go. Before I knew it, we were sitting down in the office and the drilling had started.
First thing he hit me with was the fundamentals of instruction. Essentially, this is just the psychology of learning and principles of teaching. At Malmstrom, I got a lot of practical teaching experience but all the terminology was different. The testing standards book had a list of things that you should know such as the principles of learning or the characteristics of learning. Of course, with any government document, an abundance of buzz words are used. After rattling off the buzz words of the first few questions, he got a little deeper into the subject and asked me about the characteristics of an effective critique. So I started to sweat. I couldn't remember the buzz words. When I was in CFI school, my instructor told me to put various acronyms in the testing standards book as mental reminders because I could use it during the oral portion. So, I picked up my book and went to find the acronym that I had created.
"No, no. I don't want you to look it up, I want you to just tell me the buzz words. If you could look up everything, we'd be here all day."
So, I stumbled through the answer and after about 5 minutes, I felt like I was sitting in a sauna. Ugh. Next question -- tell me about the difference between stress and anxiety. This wasn't really talked about much so I tried to talk about it a little. I thought I did pretty well and then he followed up with, "Well, of stress and anxiety, which one is psychological and which one is physiological?" Shit, I have no freaking clue. So, I started to try and answer the question by reiterating my previous answer but he stopped me and re-asked the question again. I rambled on about what stress and anxiety is but he still wasn't satisfied. Finally I said, "Well, I would say anxiety is psychological because I am feeling a great deal of anxiety right now and I'm not hungry or tired."
I held my breath to see what he would say. He smiled a little, talked about his opinion on what the two were and then said, "what do you say we take a break and get some coffee. We'll come back and talk about some of the meat and potatoes." Whew, now I was exhausted. The rest of the oral went fine. I know plenty about aero, systems, flight planning, sectionals, etc. I could talk about it all day and I did. For three and a half hours, we chatted about aviation and various subjects. By 3:40, he said, "let's go fly!"
I was never so happy to hear those words. Out of all the CFI check ride failures, 60% occur during the oral portion. So statistically, if I was going to screw up, it was going to then. Not to mention that I had received glowing remarks from my instructor on my last prep-for-check ride flight. Even though I was flying from the right seat for only the 3rd time ever, I was confident that I could perform.
I'll just go ahead and fast forward to getting ready to take off. Everything had been going fine. We chatted a little on the taxi out and run-up. Everything seemed to be functioning great and we pulled up to the runway for take-off.
"Seminole 357DA. Climb runway heading to 700 feet then make a right turn to the west. Westbound departure approved. Traffic is a Cessna on the upwind making left closed traffic. Cleared for take-off 18L."
I copied my clearance (which was longer than usual) and pulled onto the runway. I came to a stop on the runway. My feet were firmly on the rudder petals. Sitting in the right seat, I used my right hand to control the yoke (airplane's steering wheel). I used my left hand to apply about 70% power with the brakes still engaged. This was the last chance before take-off to ensure the engines were operating properly.
"Throttles 2000. Engine instruments green." I released the brakes. "Full power." We were on the roll. I glanced all the way over to the left to ensure that the airspeed indicator was operating correctly. Within a few seconds, the needle jerked from zero to 40 knots. "Airspeed alive." For the next few seconds, it was just the sound of the roaring engines and radio silence. "75 knots, rotate."
It was almost automatic, just as I had done probably over a 100 times since I started in the Seminole. My brain told my body that I had to pull back on the yoke to get the airplane to climb. So, my left hand, firmly placed on the throttle, took the initiative as it was accustomed to do by flinching a hair backward. I was so used to sitting in the left seat that I started to pull back on the throttle instead of the yoke which was in my right hand. I quietly whispered to myself so the mic wouldn't turn on, "no! Right hand!" As I pushed the throttle back to full, I listened to the engines to see how much power I had taken out. Luckily, I had moved the throttles so little that the engine RPM remained constant. I pulled back on the yoke (with my right hand this time) and we lurched into the air.
"Pitch for 88. Positive rate: Gear up." And with that, we climbed straight ahead and then made a climbing turn out to the beach. For the next hour, we piddled around the beach doing various maneuvers. We headed back in for the final 30 minutes for a few landings. My first landing was pretty bad but the next two were nearly perfect.
On the last landing, he told me to land on the runway at an intersection to a taxiway about 1/3 of the way down the runway. Usually, we landed within the first 1/10th. Within 100 feet of the runway, I felt us start to sink a little. If I allowed us to land normally, I was going to land short of the intended spot. I peaked over at the airspeed indicator and noted we still had a little airspeed left so I wouldn't need to add any power. I yanked on the yoke for a quick second and managed to float us the extra 50-100 feet to the intersection, released the back pressure and my wheels firmly but smoothly touched down. I was done.
As I taxied off the runway, my examiner finally spoke up. Other than saying things like, "Show me slow flight" or "Show me a steep turn," he didn't say much. "Nice landing. So you think you're ready for this? Do you REALLY want to be an instructor?"
"Yeah, I think I'm ready for this," I jokingly replied back.
"Well, congratulations. You did a great job." And with those words, I began an internal celebration. Almost 5 hours after it began, I was officially a flight instructor.
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