Have you started your flight training yet? If not, why? Still looking for that perfect CFI?

It’s not uncommon for prospective student pilots to delay flight training months or even years, waiting for the perfect CFI to come knocking on the door. The trouble is, CFIs never come knocking on the door. (Hell, you’re lucky if some of them even show up for lessons on time.)

And “perfect” is really a loaded term when it comes to CFIs anyway. What’s perfect? Smart? Sexy? Funny? Knowledgeable? On most of these accounts you’re in luck:

• Smart? Many CFIs are smart, often to the point of irritation. It can be particularly endearing when all that brainpower comes tucked behind a forehead that still dreads acne.
• Sexy? Most CFIs are reasonably attractive, some being downright gorgeous. If you learn best whilst you giggle and blush, this is the attribute to consider. And though “distractions” are an important part of primary pilot training, distractions on this scale are really better suited toward more advance pilot training, like instrument or commercial ratings.
• Funny? None are as funny as me, so let’s skip this one.
• Knowledgeable? I’ll bet this is the one that’s holding you up. How do you know how knowledgeable a person is about a subject you don’t know yourself?

The “certified” part of the “certified flight instructor” title suggests the FAA has educated and examined these folks. It’s supposed to mean no matter which one you get, you’ll get what you need. And no matter what happens, your money won’t be wasted.

You know, it’s like choosing a masseuse or masseur from a line up.

Here’s the truth: It’s near impossible to find the perfect CFI up front, because you play such an important role in the ultimate determination of who’s perfect. Who will you connect with? Who’s schedule fits your schedule? Who’s nearby? Who will laugh at your jokes? (After all, it’s your money.)

Here are some things to consider when choosing the CFI that’s perfect for you:

• Who makes you feel comfortable? You’re going to spend a lot of time in a small place with this person. Do you think you’ll get along? If not, move on. In my ever humble opinion, this is by far the most important consideration, because it affects everything else.
  Suggestion: Ask CFI candidates about their hobbies or interests. While they tell you, check to make sure their breath is fresh.
• Who’s available when you’re available? Things like weather, aircraft maintenance schedules and illness are things you can’t control, and you’ll be amazed often you must cancel lessons because of these and other factors beyond your control. But some things you can control, and daily schedule compatibility is one of the most important. CFIs want your business, so they might tell you things like, “Oh, I’m sure we’ll work something out,” or “Weekends are fine—airplanes are hardly ever used on the weekends in this country!” If your daily schedules don’t mesh, you’re never going to get through your training. Someone is available when you are, so keep looking.
  Suggestion: Ask CFI candidates to show you their schedules. See if time slots are free that suit you. Chances are, if the slots you’ll need are used up for the coming weeks, you’ll find yourself fighting with other students for time.
• Who’s nearby? Like regular workouts at a gym, learning to fly an airplane will make you more attractive. You picked your gym based in part on its convenient location, and you need to pick your CFI for the same reason—if your lessons aren’t convenient, you won’t go. In some areas, you won’t have a choice. But if you do have more than one nearby airport, choose the place you’re most likely to get to. Consider the CFIs at that “other” local airport less desirable, no matter how hot they look in their sunglasses and David Clarks.
  Suggestion: If your local airport isn’t very local, ask CFI candidates if they’re available outside the airport for ground instruction, which doesn’t require an airplane. This could end up saving you lots of time.
• Who can you afford? Each CFI charges differently. In some cases, the flight school will determine the costs. But if you pay your CFI directly, find out what kind of money you’re talking about. How much per hour? How long is a typical lesson? When does the clock start and stop?
  Suggestion: Ask CFI candidates how they conduct their business. This can be an awkward question, but you have a right to know—this is someone you’re hiring! You’re the boss, and don’t forget it!

Other things are important to consider too, in case you happen to be clairvoyant and can predict such things:

• Who’s airline bound? Some CFIs are training students while they pursue airline careers. It makes sense for them because they need the flight hours and students pay for the airplane. The trouble is that these CFIs can be more focused on their goals than yours. Not all, but some. Once that airline job comes along, you’re back at square one. You won’t loose the flight time you’ve already put in, but you can lose the momentum you need to get that license.
  Suggestion: Ask CFI candidates to describe their goals as aviators. If they mention the airlines, find out what time frame they’re looking at before they start looking for a job. If they’re already looking, you keep looking too. If they’re many months away from their job hunt, you might be able to get through your training before they go.
• Who seems stable? It’s not like you’re expecting your CFI to snap mid-flight, but a CFI who has been training for many years—particularly in the same location—might have the upper hand with regard to being there for you throughout your training.
  Suggestion: Ask CFI candidates how long they’ve been training. If they’re new to the area, that’s fine. Just ask some follow-up questions until you’re satisfied they’re not just passing through.

Choosing a CFI is tough, but it’s no reason to delay your training. All the hours you accrue during your training follow you forever; so even if you need to fire a CFI, you don’t need to start your training all over. Don’t be afraid to ask the tough questions. Good CFIs are used to it, and it will show them you’re serious about your training.

Anyone who’s seen the inside of a gym can tell you: those with toned arms always have a weight in their hands, and those with killer legs are always squatting, extending, pressing, etc.

And, it makes sense: How else did they get that way if it wasn’t for all that hard work?

But those solid arms are often held up by chicken legs, and those award-worthy stumps are often supporting T-Rex-like upper torsos.

The trouble is, we tend to favor what works for us, whether in the gym or in the cockpit.

If you’re like many pilots, you practice, by instinct, what you already do pretty well. If you’re practicing soft field take-offs all the time, I’ll bet I could rely on you to get us out of the muddy grass. Or, if you’re practicing rapid-fire short approaches until the tower seems annoyed at the repeated request, I’ll bet you’re me.

But what don’t you do well? Chances are, it’s what you practice least. After all, what fun is practice that humbles us, or makes us nervous?
I’ll be honest: One weak link in my aviator skill set is navigation into unfamiliar airports. It’s not that I inherently fear the unknown; it’s just that I prefer to over plan my virgin approaches. I’ll check the charts, check the airport facilities directory (A/FD), ask other pilots, and I’ll even pull up an aerial map on Google—all because I want to know, without question, what I’m getting myself into. (And heaven forbid, when I get there the wind is favoring the other runway!)

In theory, what we see on VFR sectional and terminal charts should be all we need to safely land at an unfamiliar field. At a minimum, the text portion of each airport chart listing shows:

• The airport name (SCARY FIELD) and identifier (BAD),
• The airport elevation (666 ft.),
• The lighting situation (*L – part-time lighting, see A/FD for details),
• The longest runway length (2600 ft.), and
• The common traffic advisory frequency, or CTAF (122.7).

We don’t see the traffic pattern altitude, but we can figure that out by calling in on the CTAF, or just assuming it’s a standard 1,000 feet above the field elevation. (We also don’t see information about Internet access at the field, and there’s really no excuse for that, in my ever-humble opinion. Why would I ever land at a field that offers no WiFi if I still had gas in the tanks?)
For me, the information printed on charts is about as useful as a controller who offers progressive taxi instructions by saying, “go that way.” But I need to get over this.

So what’s the one thing I never practice? I never practice flying into random airports, just to force myself to “see” the approach from the perspective of a Third World VFR chart and not a Google map.

And, really, it’s an easy enough thing to do. I live within spitting distance of a dozen or more airports that would each be happy to host me, and I’m sure at least some of them offer WiFi. So, I promise here and now, I will practice this.

What do you promise to practice?

In my book Flight Training: Taking the Short Approach, I suggest how to go about choosing a flight school, certified flight instructor (CFI), books, tools, etc. I won’t regurgitate here what I wrote there, because I always get myself into trouble when wrestling technologies as complex as copy & paste.

But there is one thing I will copy from the book, because I think it’s so important:

No one will teach you to be a safe pilot. No one will teach you to be a good pilot. The pilot you become will reflect the personal commitments you make.

So, given this, I must not think flight schools or their CFIs play much of a role in a student pilot’s success—good or bad, they’re all the same. Right? Let me put it this way: flight schools and CFIs come a dime a baker’s dozen, and far too many of these “baked goods” offer little more than empty calories.

Not to pick on schools and CFIs specifically, though, I actually feel this same way about books and other educational resources too. In fact, a CFI is nothing more than a single “book” in the arsenal of resources that will feed your aviation knowledge. Choose a good book and you’ll get a great read; choose a bad one, and you’ll waste time. Either way, if you decide to read only that one book, you’re seriously limiting your knowledge.

“Hi, I’m your surgeon. I’m going to do a great job today, because I once read about this surgery stuff!”

For serious subjects like staying aloft and staying alive, one must consult many resources before making that first “incision.”

But, how do you know what you don’t know, when you don’t yet know it?

Your CFI becomes your guide, but that’s really all. And, like any primer you might use to learn something new, you want to make sure it’s well written, in a language you understand, and it’s enjoyable to read. After all, you’re going to be spending a lot of time together.

In subsequent articles, I’ll discuss a number of the things that are probably on your mind with regard to your flight training, including:

• What sort of flight school should I attend?
• What should I consider when choosing my CFI?
• Which books should I buy?
• Which tools will I really need?

Don’t waste time and money on the things that don’t matter. Trust me, the things that do matter will cost you enough of both.

I would love to hear your comments. Write to me in the box below.

About David

David Diamond is a writer and 3D illustrator focused on aviation, who lives in Northern California. Visit his blog and portfolio at www.AirDiamond.com.

I didn’t plan to fly today, but the weather got the best of me. It’s midweek, so of course an airplane was available. Plus, my currency had lapsed and I need to take up passengers this weekend, so I knew I had to get to the airport some time before then.

Lunch today was the perfect time. I had a long morning of work, and a good, solid break was definitely indicated. I logged into the flight scheduler and booked the airplane. I checked DUATs, just to make sure the perfect weather wasn’t just a tease for some regulatory flight no-no like a TFR (temporary flight restriction). I grabbed a food bar, my (mini) flight bag, and off I went.

I’m lucky to work near my airport, so drive time was about 5 minutes. I checked out the airplane, did my pre-flight, got my clearance and took off. I fly out of Oakland International (KOAK), which can often be a real busy, no-nonsense airport, so it was refreshing how light the pattern traffic was at this time of the day.

I did full-flap, half-flap, quarter-flap and no-flap landings, and I threw in a short approach, just because I love them so much. (And I’m fond of the term.) I did some soft-field take-offs, with nose-high climb outs, just because so they’re so much fun too. (Fear not, I had lots of airspeed!)

All of my landings were “greased” but one, and I’m absolutely certain all eyes at Oakland were looking the other way for that one.

About 40 minutes later, I taxied back to my tie down and shut down the airplane.

• Total flight time: 40 minutes
• Total flight cost: $48
• Back to work before anyone noticed I was ever gone: Priceless.

For us pilots, the flight pattern is the fun stuff. Fortunately, it’s also the most affordable place to fly. If you ever think you don’t have time to fly, rethink what’s for lunch. Most of us could do well by trading in carbohydrates for carb heat anyway.

About David

David Diamond is a writer and 3D illustrator focused on aviation, who lives in Northern California. Visit his blog and portfolio at www.AirDiamond.com.

During the course of typical flight training, we spend lots of time with our flight instructors (CFI). They become trusted advisors, so when they tell us something, we tend to accept it. When we hear other CFIs teach their students differently, we think how lucky we are to have the CFI who is right.

Given this allegiance, it’s often tough for a student pilot to consider “cheating” on his or her CFI. Perhaps we’re inherently faithful to the ones who said “You’re getting there!” each time we botched our first hundred landings; or, perhaps it comes from the wholly unconvincing tone of voice CFIs use while encouraging students to fly with other instructors:

“I think flying with another CFI could be good for you,” they say, as if suggesting decapitation as a cure for a brain tumor.

I had two CFIs during my training: the boy CFI and the girl CFI. The boy CFI taught me the basics, and when I figured I had taught him all I could about the management of a problem student, I moved on to the girl CFI. They worked together, so this wasn’t awkward at all. Nope, not at all.

Okay, that’s a lie—it was quite awkward. But, true to my nature as a troublemaker, I immediately sought ways to get them into disagreements about as many topics as I could. I figured a few good cat fights would—you know—help break the ice. At the very least, it would be entertaining for me to watch… And, dammit, I was the one with the credit card!

Most of the time, it was tough to get them going—they agreed on pretty much everything. But, one day I struck gold. Before I knew it, one of my innocent (really!) questions erupted into an airport lounge debate, the likes of which I could only previously fantasize. All I needed was Barry Schiff to play the part of Jerry Springer, and I swear I was seeing a whole new genre of hanger talk.

Here’s the synopsis upon which my innocent question was based…

The airport is tucked under the class bravo airspace of San Francisco International (SFO). In order to fly anywhere, we must consider the SFO airspace and, of course, avoid stumbling into it uninvited. Right next to the airport is the San Francisco Bay, all big and wet. The floor (bottom) of SFO’s airspace over the Bay is 2,500 feet.

My innocent question was, quite innocently: What’s the best altitude to fly across the Bay?

Much to my delight, Boy CFI and Girl CFI disagreed. Girl CFI’s opinion was, “Fly as high as possible, so if you lose your engine, you’ll be more likely to make it to shore.” That made sense, but Boy CFI saw it differently: “Stay at 1,200 feet to make sure you stay clear of the wake turbulence that comes from the jets headed into SFO.” Wow, another good point. Those jets were very low as they passed by, and I could see myself getting thunked on the fuselage by the wake of any one of them.

Others in the lounged weighed in, but no one could offer the most convincing answer. It was a debate with no resolution. No winner. There would be no closing thought for Barry Springer.

Only later did I realize that something did, in fact, come from that afternoon’s CFI slug fest. Each time I cross the San Francisco Bay now, I’m keenly aware of what could happen if I fly too high, or if I fly too low. Each time I cross, I choose an altitude; I don’t just fly an altitude. I learned more from conflicting opinions than I ever could have from a chart or an agreement between my CFIs.

About David

David Diamond is a writer and 3D illustrator focused on aviation, who lives in Northern California. Visit his blog and portfolio at www.AirDiamond.com.