Learning is finding out what you already know. Doing is demonstrating that you know it. Teaching is reminding others that they know just as well as you. You are all learners, doers, teachers. —Richard Bach
By Kevin Garrison
I suffered from an affliction throughout my flying career. I was a serial student. Many of my airline pilot co-workers hated going to ground and aircraft systems school, but I seemed to thrive there, and after being hired, I attended as many as I could, as often as I could.
Building knowledge
Here is a short list of the initial aircraft system schools I attended between when I was hired at the age of 23 and age 34 (when I finally made captain):
- Boeing 727 flight engineer
- Douglas DC-8 flight engineer
- Lockheed L-1011 flight engineer
- Douglas DC-9 co-pilot
- Boeing 727 co-pilot
- Douglas DC-8 co-pilot
- Boeing 767/757 co-pilot
(and finally) - Douglas DC-9 captain
This list does not include the fact that I also had to attend recurrent training every year, or that I was an active General Aviation CFI and attended flight instructor recurrent training every other year.
I came from an impoverished General Aviation background where I had to scratch and claw to get time in the airplanes needed to get my airline gig. I couldn’t believe the airline paid me to get all that free training.
They also allowed me almost full access to the rest of the company, including the flight training department (also known as the “Steep Turn Academy”), their jet base (where heavy maintenance was done), and their marketing department (where I learned how to go on sales calls).
Of course, most of what I studied in those training courses and other airline learning opportunities I enjoyed is not very relevant now in my life as a small-plane-driving and -owning guy. I doubt I will ever find a use for my Type Rating on the Boeing 777, although it would be cool to get a job towing banners with one. I likely will never again fly a real Category III approach or have to remember my polar navigation stuff to get to China.
Was all my time in systems schools—the days off from flying that I spent at Flight Control learning things like what you need to do to dispatch a flight to Tokyo, and time spent hanging around the jet base shadowing mechanics—wasted?
The popular answer would be, “Of course not! It is just super groovy that you remember all the components on the 727’s ‘B’ system hydraulics and know all about the 777’s ADIRU system.”
How much does one person need to know?
But let’s be honest here. Do I really need to know that stuff now? And why can I remember the electrical limitations on the DC-9 but not the names of most of the people in my church or the guy in the hangar next to me?
In our General Aviation world, do you really need to spend time learning all about how to do weight and balance using a pencil and paper? Is it important for you to know intricate details of how your engine works if you never, ever, intend to work on one?
Here is my never-to-be-humble opinion on the subject. Please feel free to get in touch and let me know if you don’t agree. I can learn from that. I think that we humans are curious, constantly learning creatures. Our survival and mental health require that we regularly acquire and use new knowledge.
Let me explain where I’m coming from. Many people see a conflict between a formal liberal arts education like mine and practical knowledge. This conflict and confusion are evident when people want to limit post-secondary learning to subjects that lead directly to a job.
The problem with that, of course, is that nobody knows what the new jobs will be. When I went to college, a computer was a circular slide rule, and yet I live in a world today dominated by artificial intelligence.
Aviation and your flying life are similar. Many of us started flying long ago and could not imagine that the course of our lives in the air would literally be directed from outer space.
Most of the certificates and ratings that the FAA issues are based on your passing a written test, and later, a practical (skills) test. To pass these tests, you must meet the requirements outlined in the relevant Airman Certification Standards (or, for some tests, Practical Test Standards).
You can pass the Commercial Pilot written exam or any other pilot written with a score of 70% percent. The holes of knowledge reflected in a low score like that are supposed to be plugged by a pilot examiner during the checkride (the practical exam), but this often does not happen.
Maneuvers that pilot candidates must fly also adhere to a minimum required standard. If you can do an average job of performing a steep turn, a chandelle, or a stall, you will earn that certificate or rating—including ratings that allow you to carry 300 passengers over the North Pole.
While it is true that pilots pass checkrides by meeting minimum standards, it is also true that there is no FAA-mandated limit on how much you can know.
Our training should not end with our last checkride, and it has never been easier, less expensive, or more exciting to continue learning—oftentimes, for free!
We live in a world of webinars, unlimited access to learning materials, and the ability to communicate with teachers and aviation content creators worldwide. EAA AirVenture Oshkosh and other fly-ins are jam-packed with lectures, demonstrations, and hands-on free training. Training and informational videos number in the tens of thousands, and for most of them, the only cost to you is your time.
If you are goal-oriented and enjoy a badge, some positive reinforcement, and a nod from the government, take part in the FAA’s WINGS program.
Self-review
The minimum learning and evaluation required for most General Aviation pilots is a flight review every 24 calendar months, but what if you flipped the idea on its head and looked at this as an exciting opportunity to learn more about flying?
Except for the signoff in your logbook, you do not need expensive instructors to help you along. Most of your review and training can be done on your own.
For example, as geeky as this sounds, last week I flew a solo two-hour personal review of all the commercial flight maneuvers I had to demonstrate a half-century ago during my checkride.
I did OK on some of them, but I wish you could see how bad I was at chandelles and lazy eights.
My self-review, while being a little ugly and clumsy, was fun, and it re-lit some old unused brain cells and muscle memory.
Next week, I plan to focus on my landings—short field, soft field, along with a few simulated engine-out 180s to a touchdown.
Ask yourself this: what can you review on your next flight just for the fun of remembering?
Most of us have limited budgets for our flying, but I try to save enough moola to try one or two new things a year. Last year, it was two hours of dual in a helicopter along with a smattering of aerobatic training with a pro.
None of this learning had anything to do with getting another rating. It had everything to do with the simple joy and satisfaction of being a human trying to gather and grasp new things.
I try to find time to learn something about flying every week, even if it only entails watching a 30-minute video of something about aviation I will never use.
Humans, especially human pilots, are the otters of the universe. We live in a world of flight, where learning can be free, limitless, and fun. Please, never go for or be satisfied with the minimum standard!
Kevin Garrison’s aviation career began at age 15 as a lineboy in Lakeland, Florida. He came up through General Aviation, retired as a Boeing 767 captain in 2006, and retired from instructing airline pilots in 2017. Garrison’s professional writing career has spanned three decades. Send questions or comments to editor@piperflyer.com.
