Rules of the Game

I tell pilot candidates I train that if they score 100% on their knowledge test, I will buy them a margarita, assuming they are of legal drinking age, or a Peet's cappuccino if they aren't. You see the current FAA's knowledge testing procedures have all the characteristics of a game. I'm not being flippant, I'm being honest. The tests are expensive to take ($150 on average), a bank of representative questions for each test is published in advance, you're only offered a quick review of any questions you missed, you won't be told the correct answers to any questions you missed, and the tests have historically contained trick questions and misleading graphics. And there's a whole test preparation industry that produces books, weekend study courses, and computer-based training all designed to help applicants get a good score. The only thing missing is popcorn and liquid refreshment.

All was generally well with the FAA knowledge tests until, without any notice, the FAA decided to change the rules of the game by changing the test question bank for the Airline Transport Pilot, Flight Engineer, and the Fundamental of Instruction knowledge tests without modifying their own publications. The predictable result was a sharp increase in the failure rate and that has led many to observe with shock and horror that what had heretofore been occurring was not learning at all! To better understand the situation, you'll need to set aside some popularly held misconceptions about the FAA's knowledge test procedures.

Learning is ...

The instructional theory and concepts that flight and ground instructors are taught can be found in the FAA's Aviation Instructor's Handbook. I'll be blunt and say that the handbook contains a hodgepodge of educational theory, some of it germane and useful, some of it ... not so much. It has been edited and changed over the years and in the process has been somewhat improved. One of the core concepts presented is the four levels of learning: Rote, Understanding, Application, and Correlation. Rote knowledge is the memorization of facts while correlative knowledge is the ability to combine new experiences and information with what you've learned in the past. Most FAA practical test standards contain this boilerplate (emphasis added):

Examiner’s shall test to the greatest extent practicable the applicant’s correlative abilities rather than mere rote enumeration of facts throughout the practical test.

While a practical test is dynamic and interactive affair, the knowledge test is anything but. An examiner can ask questions selectively and in a sequence so as to uncover the level of knowledge the applicant possesses. The knowledge test is static (okay, the groups of questions are randomly selected at the time your test is generated) and a much more difficult affair since the test must provide valid results across a diverse population. It's good to have goals with regard to testing and examining pilots, but the truth seems to be that both the knowledge test and the oral portion of the practical tend to rely heavily on rote knowledge for the simple reason that it is easiest to test. I know one flight instructor candidate who was pink-slipped because he could not recite, verbatim, the definition of instructional level of knowledge.

Multiple Choice

A knowledge test should measure what the candidate has learned in an objective and effective manner. The easiest type of assessment to administer and grade is a selection style (aka multiple choice) test. Selection questions must be designed so that there is only one correct answer or one best answer. The Aviation Instructor's Handbook provides guidance to instructors on how to avoid using puzzle, trick, or bewilderment questions. Apparently in an effort to discriminate between levels of learning, the FAA often resorts to the very types of questions they caution against.

Some of the more egregious examples that come to mind include the graphics used in the Instrument Rating knowledge test where an RMI needle was depicted as slightly bent or the arrow head of the needle was depicted so subtly that one might mistake it for the tail of the needle. Then there were the flight planning questions where the en route time or fuel burn or magnetic heading that you calculated didn't exactly match any of the answers, but was somewhat close to one of the supplied answers. What was actually being testing here? No one seems to know, but a whole industry began to grow up around these tests.

In the past, when you missed a question on a knowledge test the only feedback your test results showed was the knowledge codes indicating the general subject area for incorrectly answered questions. The FAA changed this system somewhat and now publishes the Learning Statement Reference Guide for Airman Knowledge Testing. How they arrived at the term "learning statement" is beyond me, but I'm sure it involved hours, if not weeks, of meetings.

Preparation, Memorization, Commercialization

When suggesting to a student how to best prepare for the knowledge test, I ask them a bit about their individual learning style. Some people like doing computer-based training, others prefer a printed study guide, while others prefer the group learning environment provided by a weekend seminar. One size does not fit all. The advantage of a computer-based study system is that you can take sample tests in a format that closely resembles what you'll see at the testing center and that helps to reduce test anxiety for most people. I know of no students who receive their knowledge test preparation from their individual instructor one-on-one because the cost would be prohibitive.

Ideally, test preparation should help the candidate ensure that they are adequately prepared to pass the test and uncover areas they need to work on. What often happened in the past was that some candidates tried to memorize the answers and the tests end up measuring rote knowledge instead of correlative knowledge. To combat this, the FAA made some changes. First, the actual test questions are no longer published. Instead, a bank of representative questions is available for each knowledge test. Many people mistakenly believe that all the actual test questions are published in advance, but this has not been the case for several years.

The National Association of Flight Instructors has raised some important questions about the FAA's unannounced test changes, pointing out that some questions may have been added without first being validated. It also seems that the FAA reference materials no longer adequately represent the knowledge tests that applicants are taking and some subject matter areas may now carry more weight than they did in the past. As an aside, NAFI seems to be doing a commendable job of representing the interests of flight instructors and their students.

Cost of Learning

For quite some time now, the FAA knowledge tests have been computed-based and administered through testing centers affiliated with LaserGrade (now PSI) and CATS. The testing centers must adhere to proctoring rules, including having a closed-circuit surveillance system installed in the testing area. While there is a certain overhead to providing these facilities, it seems hard to justify the 100% increase testing fees that has occurred over the last few years. No one seems to have talked about this increase, probably because the test-takers are a captive audience and have no recourse but to pay the piper. It baffles me why some keep saying over and over that cost is not a significant impediment to learning to fly. With avgas pushing $6/gallon in many areas and knowledge tests costing $150, cost most certainly is a factor.

The FAA has tried to create a valid and reliable knowledge test for each rating or certificate and though the whole thing may seem to be a bit of a mess, historically, the FAA's testing set-up appears to be adequate. Applicants must expend some amount of effort studying and even if they are just memorizing answers, some learning is bound to occur during this activity. Secondly, the knowledge test is just one part of the learning equation. The last line of defense in ensuring that adequate learning has occurred is the oral portion of the practical test, where the applicant must stand and deliver. While problems are occasionally reported with the manner in which some examiners have administered practical tests, by and large the system, as a whole, works. So while aviation testing may appear to be a mess, it has been a mess that everyone understood and accepted. At least we thought we understood.

Embracing Hi-Tech

Since last April, I've logged around 300 hours of flight time and probably twice as many hours of ground training using the iPad. While the iPad isn't perfect, I've found it invaluable as:
electronic flight bag
note pad
logbook
book library
video player
E6B calculator
credit card reader, and more.

I can access practical test standards, present a lesson, quickly calculate aircraft weight and balance, access aircraft checklists, and get weather briefings. Sure it's taken some learning and adapting on my part, but the iPad has made me a more effective and efficient instructor (multi-tasking offered by the latest iOS4.2 is a big help, by the way). My students see me using an iPad, see its capabilities, and naturally test the waters by asking if they should be using one, too. My qualified answer is "Sure, if you want to."

Spare the Rod

Some instructors and pilots see this permissive attitude as heretical. It's a common practice for instructors to deprive student pilots of access to certain equipment as a way to focus their attention and promote learning in a scenario-based teaching approach. A student who spends too much time looking at their instruments instead of outside the cockpit might be helped by the instructor covering up those instruments. When first learning cross-country navigation, it's common for students to  navigate using a chart, the magnetic compass, and prominent landmarks before learning to use a GPS receiver or other radio navigation systems. Introducing pilotage as the student's primary mode is crucial because, GPS or not, they must ultimately be able to locate unfamiliar airports with their eyes. But this does not mean that all flight instruments are to be avoided or that GPS usage will make a pilot incompetent.

Where things go South is when instructors become obsessed with thinking that if some deprivation is good, more must be better. This can take the form of "When I was a young pilot, no one used a headset, my instructor smoked cigars inside the plane, and I had to navigate using compass, a stopwatch, and with one hand tied behind my back."


Riiight.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, most new training aircraft come equipped with GPS and autopilots, yet some instructors still pride themselves on refusing to let students use this equipment - ever. Pilots need to recognize this for what it is: kooky talk. Even the FAA requires instructors bestowing solo cross-country privileges on a student (14 CFR 61.93(e)(8)) to ensure the student is proficient with:

Procedures for operating the instruments and equipment installed in the aircraft to be flown, including recognition and use of the proper operational procedures and indications.

Getting Qualified

This gets to the qualified part of my permissive approach: Pilots must show they can competently use any equipment in the plane, understand the limitations of the equipment, have a viable back-up strategy if the equipment fails, and demonstrate they are proficient using the back-up strategy and that their piloting performance is not adversely affected. This applies to everything installed in the plane and, by extension, to any equipment the student decides to bring with them: E6B slide rule, electronic E6B, fancy calculator watch, handheld GPS, or iPad (or any EFB for that matter).

The obvious back-up for an iPad/EFB is a selection of paper charts and a good scenario for EFB users is the simulated failure of their treasured device. It's reassuring to know that one can still locate, unfold, and use a paper chart, or thumb through an Airport/Facilities Directory, or locate a chart in a terminal procedures book. If you don't use a skill, you'll lose that skill.

I teach student pilots to use the autopilot, if one's installed in the airplane and that includes recovering from a runaway trim scenario. Of course they must be proficient at hand flying, but using the autopilot to give them a breather on long flights can actually enhance learning and if it reduces fatigue, it's the safe thing to do. Flying with an autopilot isn't cheating, it's a different kind of flying that need to be understood and practiced. A student of mine was about to go for his check ride recently and he asked if he could use the autopilot while planning his in-flight diversion. My response was "Sure, tell the examiner what you're doing. Of course he may tell you that you may not use the autopilot ..."

Share the Wealth

There's more and more cool stuff out there everyday and a lot of it, used intelligently, can make flying safer, easier, cheaper, and more enjoyable. New stuff needs to be properly learned, understood, and managed. And that means instructors need to stay current and learn the new stuff rather than steadfastly embracing old school. From the beginning, change has defined aviation and the new stuff just keeps coming. Thankfully, there's no turning back.

Blame Game

When I heard that AOPA was researching why 70 to 80% of people who start flight training end up quitting and that they were to release the results at their trade show in Long Beach, I wondered what was up. At the heart of this debate are two basic claims: The pilot population is shrinking and 70 to 80% of those who start flight training end up dropping out without ever earning a pilot's certificate. An additional claim is that an 80% drop-out rate is unreasonable, but it's not clear that any of these claims are supported by the new "research." Still a public debate of these issues is reasonable and since I wasn't in Long Beach, I'll observe that it seems AOPA has an agenda and they went in search of evidence to support that agenda.

A few weeks before pilots began gathering for the AOPA Summit, press releases informed us of the high drop out rate for student pilots. Those who know me heard my prediction: The AOPA study would blame the high drop out rate on shoddy instruction offered by inept and unmotivated flight instructors because ... wait for it ... CFIs are easy targets. Largely powerless, underpaid, and seldom recognized, being a professional flight instructor isn't a career path for the faint-of-heart.

In point of fact, shoddy flight training is exactly how some people have summarized what was presented in Long Beach. I won't go into the issues of time-building CFIs and pilots who just don't have the interest or ability to be effective instructors, but if you watch the entire 30 minute on-line video of the AOPA presentation you'll hear that flight instructors (and the conditions under which they work) were only two of the contributing factors identified in these opinion polls. Paradoxically, the opinion polls (which is what this research really is) indicate that people seem to think that:

The flight training industry is, in fact, well aligned; doing the important things well.

Furthermore, the industry is reportedly providing good value, good instructor support, effective instruction, and good information sharing. One thing that seems to have been glossed over is that the poll revealed that 40% of people who actually solo and become student pilots never continue to earn a pilot certificate. The 70 to 80% failure rate that keeps being reported includes those who drop out before soloing (never become official student pilots) as well as those that never earn a pilot certificate.

I'm not an expert on research surveys nor on the techniques used to gather such data, but if we want to truly understand the state of flight training there seems to be a bunch of useful data that is missing. Early in the presentation, Mark Benson, chairman of an opinion research firm called APCO Insight, explained that they didn't want to do a conventional customer service survey into the flight training problem. Unfortunately, the polling methods don't seem to have been published and so we don't know how their procedures might compare with, say, this NASA study.

Some questions I'd like to see answered include the following. What percentage of private pilots pass their check ride on the first attempt? How many hours of flight time does the average pilot have when they take their check ride and how are those hours distributed across the age range of the pilots? How many times on average does a student pilot change instructors and was the change voluntary or involuntary? How many pilots begin flight training with no intention of ever soloing or earning a certificate? How many pilots who hold a current medical certificate are flying at least 25 hour a year? How many flight instructors recommend three or more candidates per year? How many instructors train under 14 CFR part 61 versus part 141? In short, some measurable evidence about the overall effectiveness and health of flight training rather than just soliciting the opinions and perceptions of those trained by said instructors.

Back in 2008, I offered some ideas on the shrinking pilot population along with some modest suggestions on making the process of learning to fly a bit easier based on thousands of hours of dual instruction I have given to all types of pilots. I just took for granted the assertion that the pilot population was indeed shrinking, but FAA data covering the years from 1999 to 2009 seems to show a stable pilot population. This is remarkable considering the unemployment rate of the last few years. Could it be that AOPA is assuming a premise that isn't supported by facts?

Chart from FAA data on pilots, 1999 through 2009

When considering whether or not a 70-80% drop-out rate for students is reasonable, we have to consider the skills a person must acquire to pass a check ride. Based on my teaching experience, I'd estimate that about 20% of the population is simply not equipped to be pilot-in-command. First are medical certification issues that preclude someone from getting a third class medical certificate, though these folks may still be able to fly under sport pilot rules (don't get me started on sport pilot and aircraft regulations).

Then there more complicated issues. Flying involves high workload moments that require a combination of skills involving language, listening, spatial awareness, visualization, motor planning, prioritizing, and multi-tasking. Flying an airplane can be a lot like riding a mountain bike while simultaneously playing chess: Most people can do a subset of these tasks, but fewer people are able to do all of them.

Consider what is sometimes called "reaction to flight." A person may be afraid of flying or they may become motion sick or anxious. No matter how hard they try, these may be insurmountable problems. This doesn't make them bad or defective people, it just means they aren't cut out to be pilots. Heck, as a young adult I dreamed of being another Adolph Herseth, but wishing doesn't make it so. Occasionally a flight instructor has to sit down with a student and have the difficult conversation. It's not something that I look forward to, but it is an important part of the job.

Without the basic skills and abilities, there is no amount of training, simulator experience, advanced avionics, customer service, instructor charisma, or good will that will keep these people from dropping out or get them through a check ride. This gets to the crux of the problem with AOPA's initiative: A better process, better customer focus, and happier customers will not guarantee that more people will end up earning a pilot certificate. More money may end up being spent, but that's another goal that is not necessarily aligned with helping GA grown. And as one seasoned instructor I know quipped "General aviation doesn't need any more substandard pilots."

It seems reasonable to assume that attempts to increase the pilot population would likely increase AOPA's membership and perhaps that is one of their goals. Frankly, some if this "research" seems to border on truthiness.  Don't get me wrong, AOPA has done some great things for GA and the Air Safety Foundation is probably the most valuable resource available to pilots and instructors. While AOPA works on their initiatives, dedicated flight instructors will continue to do the hard work on the front lines, giving instruction, helping students solve problems, helping them succeed, endorsing their logbooks and, occasionally, having the difficult conversations that must be had.

Complex Problems

The vast majority of pilots currently flying for the airlines received their training in a civilian setting, though that wasn't always the case. The usual route to the airlines is to earn your various certificates (either under part 61 or part 141), then decide whether to become a flight instructor or find another way to build the required hours to apply for a professional flying job. Some pilots become instructors and many of these folks provide quality instruction while building hours. Other pilots choose to build flight time through towing banners, flying traffic watch, performing pipeline patrol, or doing aerial survey work.

One thing that these U.S. pilots have in common is that they all earned a commercial pilot certificate and when they took that commercial check ride, it was in a complex aircraft, defined in 14 CFR 61 as an airplane that has a retractable landing gear, flaps, and a controllable pitch propeller or, in the case of a seaplane, flaps and a controllable pitch propeller. The problem is that finding a complex aircraft to train in is getting harder and harder. There are several reasons why this is the case.

There are only a handful of piston engine complex aircraft still being manufactured and the Piper Arrow the only complex trainer I know of that is still in production. Many large part 141 flight schools use Beech Bonanzas and some flight schools use twin-engine aircraft (more on this later). Otherwise, a potential commercial pilot candidate is left to choose from a selection of older Mooney, Cessna, and Beech aircraft that make up the aging fleet of complex trainer aircraft still in service.

One reason that few manufacturers want to produce a complex trainer is that many owners and operators know that maintenance and insurance costs are higher for retractable gear aircraft. And then there are those unintentional gear-up landings. New aircraft manufacturers like Diamond, Cirrus and Cessna (nee Columbia) rely on the simplicity and low operating costs of a fixed landing gear coupled with aerodynamically efficient airframe designs to sell aircraft. A fixed gear reduces the cost for periodic inspections, maintenance, and insurance, but it leaves aspiring commercial pilots, flight instructor candidates, and the instructors who train these pilots with fewer and fewer options.

Some flight schools and pilots get around this problem by earning their initial commercial or instructor certificate in a multi-engine aircraft, which allows them to do a single-engine add-on to that certificate in a fixed-gear aircraft. With the rising cost of fuel, this alternative is less attractive, but often the only option available. And guess what? The aging fleet of multi-engine trainers is in the same sorry state as the fleet of complex singles. Again, there is really only one light multi-engine trainer aircraft currently in production: The Piper Seminole.

One solution to this problem would be for the FAA to provide some relief by redefining complex aircraft for the purposes of training toward a Commercial Airplane Single-Engine certificate so that it includes certain fixed-gear aircraft with constant-speed propellers. This would vastly increase the number of available trainers, but I'm not sure anyone at the FAA is listening or willing. Without some sort of relief, the shortage of complex single and multi-engine aircraft will only worsen, leaving aspiring professional pilots out in the cold.

For another illustration of increasing complexity, you don't have to look any further than the G1000. I recently helped the owner of a G1000-equipped aircraft comply with a service bulletin that requires the testing of the Course and Baro knobs. Most everyone who does G1000 transition training wonders why the folks at Garmin designed the course and barometric pressure setting knobs so that they were concentric. These two functions, course and altimeter setting, have absolutely nothing to do with one another, so the reason must have been one of economics or the result of a committee decision.

Whatever the genesis, the design is really unfortunate and this particular service bulletin arose because some of these concentric knobs were failing in a subtle way: Setting the altimeter or adjusting the course in an affected G1000 unit could cause unwanted movement of the other setting. As my mom used to say "You've buttered your bread, now you can sleep in it."

If owning and maintaining a G1000-equipped aircraft weren't complicated enough, a recent instrument candidate I recommended was chided for not having memorized the model numbers of each and every component that makes up the G1000 system. This candidate was also told they should have known how each unit communicated with the others. My reaction was "Is this pilot supposed to demonstrate that they can fly a G1000-equipped aircraft or are they supposed to be able to fix it?" And where does this level of minutiae stop being useful? Is it sufficient to know that the units are connected with an ethernet network or should a candidate be able to describe the data packets that are exchanged, whether or not the packets are acknowledged, and what the bit ordering scheme is?

The FAA's flight instructor material describes four levels of learning, from lowest to highest:

• Rote
  
• Understanding
  
• Application
  
• Correlation
  

The various Practical Test Standards published by the FAA say that flight instructors are to train their candidates to the higher levels of knowledge - application or correlation. Memorizing the model numbers of the G1000 components is clearly the lowest level of knowledge, but it's also the easiest to test: You either know the letters and numbers or you don't.

Asking someone to explain how the various G1000 components play together would seem to be testing a higher level of knowledge, but on closer examination this is really of little use once you are airborne. When a G1000 component fails or misbehaves in flight, there is little the pilot can do other than maintain control of the aircraft, land, and let an avionics technician replace one or more of the pricey LRUs (line-replaceable units).

One thing Garmin could do to reduce complexity would be to redesign the G1000's MFD status display so that it would describe each LRU with a plain English name. Rather than demanding that a candidate know the model number of the G1000 air data computer, examiners could ask about real world scenarios, like what would your PFD look like if the air data computer failed.

If something isn't done to manage this complexity in an intelligent and useful way, pilots will be forced to learn more and more useless trivia and safety will be compromised. Some say that it already has.

Catching Up

When a comment gets posted to this blog, I'm supposed to get an email. Unfortunately, an email is not always sent and I when I logged onto Blogger the other day I noticed several comments awaiting my review. Some comments had to do with older posts and I've put those comments up and responded to most. If you posted one of these delayed comments, my apologies for my less than timely response. To paraphrase one of the lines from the movie Repo Man, "I blame Blogger."

One commenter was really asking an unrelated question, so I'll quote it here and offer my opinionated answer:

I'm doing my initial issue multi engine instrument rating here in Aus, and everything is based off the NDB/ADF. You cannot gain an initial issue without demonstrating use of those.

In the US it seems the NDBs are being switched off, so I'm assuming the fundamentals of the rating is not geared around this antiquated piece of equipment.

Is this the case? How is the thing structured in the US?

Thanks if you have time to reply.

Tony

Good question Tony. NDBs are being phased out in the U.S., but they still quite common in some parts of the country. There are very few NDB stations remaining in California, but a large number are in service in the Midwest and Eastern states. I know at least one part 121 freight operator that requires pilot applicants to demonstrate an NDB approach. Whether or not an instrument rating candidate in the U.S. will be asked to demonstrate an NDB approach or NDB navigation depends to a large extent on where the practical test is being conducted.

The other obvious issue is the equipment installed in the aircraft the applicant is using for the practical test. If you don't have a functioning Automatic Direction Finder, the examiner can't very well ask you to demonstrate its use. This doesn't preclude an examiner from asking you theoretical questions about NDBs and their use during the oral portion of the test, it just makes it less likely. The same principal holds true for an IFR-approved GPS receiver and an autopilot. If you don't have a GPS in the plane or if the GPS database isn't current, the examiner can't ask you to use it. If your aircraft has a functioning autopilot, you'll be required to demonstrate its use on an approach.

Isn't it interesting how many old ADF receiver and flakey autopilots are suddenly placarded INOP just before a check ride?

There's an amazing amount of variety (or is it inconsistency?) in the approach facilities available in the U.S. where the list of possible navigation aids include ILS (instrument landing system), Localizer, LDA (Localizer-type Direction Aid), SDF (Simplified Directional Facility), VOR, NDB, and GPS/RNAV. Oh, I forgot to mention the MLS (Microwave Landing System): It was supposed to replace the ILS but it never really ... er ... took off. There are only a dozen or so SDF approaches in the entire U.S. and none in California, where I live and work. This situation has all the hallmarks of a system that grew up over time with a little being added here, then a little there. This means instrument pilots who fly to a variety of destinations in the U.S. need an almost encyclopedic level of knowledge on all these systems and their limitations.

NDB navigation outside the U.S. is generally alive and well, as I found when I flew through the Caribbean. So I do my best to expose instrument applicants to NDB navigation. I don't have access to many aircraft with a functioning ADF and there are just a few nearby NDBs around with which to navigate - Stockton and Watsonville come to mind. One can still use the G1000 to simulate an AFD/NDB setup.

Expanding this scenario further, consider flying IFR in a steam gauge aircraft (with separate, round instruments) versus flying a glass panel aircraft with integrated electronic displays. A pilot who learns in a steam gauge aircraft and earns his or her instrument rating could theoretically jump into a glass cockpit and launch into the soup. And vice versa. So while there are plenty of regulations and equipment in the U.S., I'm not sure how much "structure" there actually is.

Did I say that out loud?

Who's got The Button

With all the activity surrounding my ferry flight, I've had precious little time to keep up with happenings in aviation. As I made my way through the backlog of reading over the last few days, I noticed that Cirrus has released a version of their SR22 aircraft with a G1000 system instead of the usual Avidyne system. And in classic Cirrus fashion, their marketing team assures us that they are not just jumping on the G1000 bandwagon, no sir. This G1000 has been Cirrusized. The main differences between the usual G1000 and the Cirrusized G1000 are fairly limited, but in addition to the SVS option (Cirrus refers to it as "Perspective") there are some are big improvements.

First, the screens are 12" instead of 10" because bigger is better, right? Well at least there will be room for more fingerprints on the screen surface. The second difference is that this G1000 installation provides a keypad, something that has heretofore been limited to a few aircraft like the Columbia, Mooney, Bonanza, and Baron. If you ask me, all G1000 installations cry out for a simpler way to enter waypoints and limiting the keypad installation seems like more of a marketing gimmick that anything else. But look closely at the keypad and autopilot interface, because there is something revolutionary here.

One of my biggest gripes with the G1000 has been the design of the BARO knob (used to set the barometric pressure for the altimeter) and the CRS knob (used to set the HSI course when in VOR mode or in GPS with OBS mode engaged). In the traditional G1000, these two knobs are concentric with the large outer knob being the BARO setting and the smaller, inner knob being the CRS knob. If I had five dollars for every time I saw a pilot inadvertently change the BARO setting when they meant to adjust the HSI course, well I could have already retired and be sitting on the porch of my beach house, sipping rum from a glass with a little umbrella.

Next to the Cirrus keypad are heading, course, and altitude select knobs. These knobs no longer appear on the G1000 PFD or MFD. That's right, the combined CRS/BARO knobs are no more in the Cirrus. What's more, the frequently used heading and altitude select knobs are in a separate, easy to remember location. Pretty cool.

The other Cirrus difference is an additional button on the autopilot interface labeled LVL, which is being referred to as the Blue Button or the Panic Button. The idea is that if you enter an unusual attitude that does not exceed 75˚ of bank and/or 50˚ of pitch, pressing the LVL button will engage the autopilot and should bring you back to straight and level. I think having a single button to level the aircraft could be a handy thing during high workload moments, but a button for unusual attitude recovery?

One of the most basic skills an instrument pilot learns is to recover from an unusual attitude, especially when they are experiencing spatial disorientation - their inner ear is telling them something that is at odds with what their instruments are telling them. There are two basic unusual attitude scenarios: Nose up and nose down. A common mistake when trying to recover from an unusual attitude is failing to control airspeed, so the first thing to do is look at the airspeed indication. A fast or increasing airspeed means the nose of the plane is pointed down. A slow or decreasing airspeed means the plane is pointed up. I train my instrument students to initiate recovery by adjusting power first.

When recovering from a nose-up unusual attitude, I teach instrument candidates to think "stall recovery": Full power, reduce the pitch attitude, then level the wings. Nose-up unusual attitudes are often caused by a malfunctioning, runaway pitch trim. If that's the case, I can't imagine that the LVL button is going to be of any use since it relies on pitch trim which has malfunctioned.

The nose-down pitch recovery requires that the pilot initiate a spiral dive recovery, just like you learned when you first tried steep turns as a student pilot: Reduce power to idle, level the wings to reduce load on the airframe, then pitch up. If you don't level the wings before pitching up, you not only risk over-stressing the airframe, you may only succeed in steepening the bank angle with the resultant altitude loss and increase in airspeed - referred to by some as the JFK Jr. syndrome.

Assuming the Cirrus autopilot doesn't have autothrottle capability, I can't imagine how the level button can level the aircraft without potentially overstressing the airframe. Perhaps the designers are relying on the rigidity of the Cirrus composite airframe and its hugely effective ailerons. One would assume that they have tested this system and found it works satisfactorily, but I'm still curious.

More importantly, I wonder if this kind of system is going to breed a new kind of instrument pilot with questionable instrument flying skills. It seems doubtful that designated examiners will allow pilots to use the LVL button when demonstrating unusual attitude recovery during an instrument rating check ride, so maybe we're safe for now.

The one thing I wish Cirrus would fix is their own button design. Cirrus needs to protect important bolster switches from being inadvertently turned off. I actually had a student do this during an ILS in actual conditions. Reaching for the heading bug knob, we hit a big bump, his hand came down squarely on the avionics switch, the switch went off, and all the screens and G430s went dark. In Cirrus' G1000 design, the PFD softkeys are very close to the bolster switches and it's easy to imagine bumping one while trying to access a softkey in turbulent conditions. Perhaps they can Cirrusize that problem away ...

Know Your Friends

Should you ever find yourself in Point Reyes Station, pick up a copy of the local newspaper, the Point Reyes Light. One of my favorite parts of this paper is the Sheriff Calls which describes law enforcement activity for this rural community. It is written in such a ambiguous yet droll, Joe Friday, sort of way that it's often quite entertaining. Years ago, I read this item:

A man arrived home to find another man inside his house. When he asked the stranger who he was, the man replied "I'm one of your brother's friends." The man told the stranger "I know my brother's friends and you're not one of them." The other man left. When police arrived, they could not locate the man.

A pilot I fly with pointed me to the video below, I watched it and got that slightly sick feeling. An unintentional gear-up landing is a shame because the root cause is pilot error. Forgetting to put the gear down happens regularly and can be traced to several common causes, but like all accidents, gear-up landings are usually the result of a chain of events.

My intent is not to defame or ridicule the people shown in this video, but rather to learn from their mistakes. And the video illustrates at least three broken links in the safety chain: Failure to acknowledge the audible gear warning, failure to follow accepted checklist procedures, and failure to enforce a sterile cockpit during a critical phase of flight.

You can view the video here.

Virtually all aircraft with a retractable landing gear have some sort of gear warning system meant to prevent an unintentional gear-up landing. Gear warning systems typically associate certain aircraft configuration changes with the pilot's intention to land and if the gear handle is up, an audible (and sometimes a visual) warning is provided. Configurations that produce a gear warning usually involve reducing power below a certain threshold or configuring flaps beyond an approach setting while the gear handle is in the UP position.

If you routinely configure your aircraft such that the gear warning is activated, you are conditioning yourself to ignore the warning and this means good checklist procedures and cockpit discipline are the only thing between you and a gear-up landing. So one thing that pilots, instructors, and examiners can do is to avoid intentionally configuring the aircraft in a way that activates the gear warning. There are some training situations where the gear warning will be unavoidable, but that's not usually the case in day-to-day flight operations.

Many pilots who transition to a complex aircraft are not used to the aircraft's increased speed and the extra planning required when descending for an approach to landing. These pilots typically effect a descent by just yanking the throttle back, which activates the gear warning system. Do this on a regular basis and, well ... If you find you need to reduce the power such that the gear horn sounds, why not just consider extending the gear at that point to help the descent? Of course you need to be certain you are at or below the gear extension speed.

You can make routine work to your advantage by performing your Gear Down/Before Landing checklist in a consistent manner, thereby making it a habit. On a visual approach to landing in the traffic pattern, I encourage pilots to perform their Gear Down/Before Landing checklist when they are abeam their intended touchdown point on the downwind leg of the pattern, then again on the base leg of the pattern. Follow this up with a "Three Green and Stabilized" check at 400 feet AGL or so on final. If you are on an instrument approach, perform the Gear Down/Before Landing checklist at or just prior to the final approach fix, repeat it at 1000' AGL and follow it up with a "Three Green and Stabilized" check at 400 feet AGL or just before the minimum descent altitude.

Here's another thing that I find helps pilots verify the three green gear lights are illuminated - Keep your hand on the gear handle until the three green lights illuminate. Don't go any further in your checklist, don't do any other task, just keep your hand on the gear handle and wait. If there is an instructor, another pilot, or a passenger on board, use accepted cockpit resource management techniques by involving them in the process: When you have extended the gear, say to them "Three Green, no red lights, do you agree?" If you involve the front seat passenger or the other pilot or instructor in the process, you'll probably find it easier to enforce a sterile cockpit rule - no conversation that is not directly related to the flight.

Any time you get a gear warning, verbally announce it, especially if your aircraft has a mute switch that allows you to disable the audible warning. And if you know who your friends are - good habits, checklist discipline, and a sterile cockpit - you've made it highly unlikely that you'll ever land gear-up unintentionally.

Hat in the Ring

I had fallen two-plus years behind on entering my flight times into my electronic logbook, but as of last week I am all caught up. Getting behind was a mistake because an electronic record of one's flight time can be invaluable. And the more flight time you rack up, the more valuable that data can be. Especially when filling out a Form 8710-1 before a check ride, also known as an Airman Certificate and/or Rating Application form.

The FAA wants to know some fairly obscure information on this form, like night instruction received and cross-country instruction received. And most logbooks do not provide a good way to record this stuff so that at the end of the day (or night) you have a running total. Filling out the Form 8710-1 accurately is important because it is a legal snapshot of your flight experience. Should you ever lose your logbook or have it stolen, the importance of a properly filled out 8710 will become obvious. Many electronic logbook programs will generate a Form 8710-1 for you and even do some basic checking to make sure you meet the aeronautical experience requirements for a particular rating or certificate.

The biggest benefit is that an electronic logbook does the tedious arithmetic for you and many will generate graphs and reports of your time grouped by aircraft category, class, and type. If you're flying professionally, you may primarily fly just one aircraft type. I was surprised to learn that over the years I have logged PIC time in nearly 20 different types of aircraft. I was equally surprised to see that I regularly log instructor time in nine different types.

The desire to have all my time in an electronic format was motivated by my needing to fill out yet another application - Form 8710-10 - Designated Pilot Examiner Candidate Application. Yes, I'm considering going over to the Dark Side. This form wants some pretty specific flight times, like instrument instruction given broken down aircraft class, number of hours of instructtion given to candidates persuing an instrument rating. The electronic logbook I used lets me create some custom fields, but I had to go back through a bunch of dates and enter the correct number of hours.

The process of becoming a DPE is fairly simple, provided everything goes smoothly. Once a DPE application has been accepted, the applicant is notified that they may take the DPE knowledge test. This computer-based test is administered like any other FAA knowledge test, but a minimum score of 80% is required if you wish to be put in the DPE pool. After passing the knowledge test and being put in the pool, you wait for an opening to occur and for a call from your local Flight Standards District Office. If you are not contacted for an interview within two years, you must reapply and take the knowledge test again. If you don't apply and your name is not in the DPE candidate pool, you can't be contacted if you FSDO decides they need another DPE. In anticipation of my application being accepted, I'm already studying for the DPE knowledge test, but who knows how long I might have to wait for the opportunity to become a designated examiner. As Woody Allen said, "80 percent of success is just showing up."

And I also completed another application form - in May I'll be running in the Bay-to-Breakers. As a youngster (read 20 something), I used to run 10K races and completed one marathon, but this will be my first time running since lower back surgery several years ago. Like anything in life, preparing for this race has taken (and will continue to take) some careful training. Since many of the non-seeded running wear costumes, a friend asked me what I was going as. "A balding, middle aged, white guy" was my response.

Dreams of Flight

Last week, I'm set to do the first flight with a CFI candidate who has been referred to me. After a notice of disapproval, he's been stalled for a couple of weeks. The Thanksgiving holiday didn't help matters, nor did a week of bad weather we had in late October. He's anxious to make some headway and anyone who's earned more than two certificates or ratings knows how many things can get in the way of a check ride. I'm sitting in the left seat, alternating between being a student pilot or an FAA inspector, as he calls Ground and asks to taxi to the longer of the two runways. It occurs to me to suggest the shorter runway is closer, but I keep my mouth shut. After an uneventful run-up, he begins teaching a soft field takeoff. His technique is very good, we're off the runway, accelerating in ground effect, then pitching up to climb, his hand is poised to remove the flaps when ... the engine sputters and quits!

After the requisite one second of astonishment, I see the palm of my left hand is pushing firmly on the yoke forward while stating the obvious "We're landing!" As the aircraft pitches forward, the engine roars to life, back from the dead. He starts to climb, or has the restoration of power simply caused the nose to pitch up? I'm no longer astonished and quickly reach forward and pull the throttle, repeating emphatically "We're landing." We touch down on the remaining runway and roll to the very end. I'm glad I kept my mouth shut and we didn't take the shorter runway - we could have ended up in the trees. Instead, no one is hurt, the plane isn't damaged, and we taxi back to parking, happy to let a mechanic sort this one out.

Monday starts with me like an expectant father. I'm always like this when I have recommended a pilot for a practical test. The check ride is scheduled to start at noon and though it's my day off, I find myself looking at my watch around 1pm. "Hmm ... no call from the DPE so all the endorsements and paperwork must have been acceptable." 3pm arrives and I wonder if the oral portion of the test is complete: "They must be in the air by now ..." 4:30pm rolls around and I'm walking my dog: "Sundown is not far off, I'll give my student a call" But it rolls over to voicemail immediately. At 5pm, my cell rings. She passed, had the usual adventure with this particular DPE, and seems astounded that the check ride is over. "Oh, he said to tell you that you did a good job." Hey, I wasn't the one flying the plane on the check ride ... Congrats Elise!

Tuesday sees a second flight with the same CFI candidate, this time in a different plane. It goes well and I suggest he call the FSDO to schedule the re-check. A few phone calls and the re-check is set for tomorrow morning! Who says the FAA doesn't offer good service on check rides? We spend several hours going through the aircraft logbooks, identifying all the airworthiness directives that affect the plane. I know the inspector won't like some of the entries in the aircraft logbooks. I try talking to the mechanic about re-doing them. I'm unsuccessful and leave with the feeling that the mechanic was just about to punch me in the mouth. "Pick you battles" I tell myself. We fill out the form 8710 and I make the requisite endorsement. "Am I ready?" he asks. "I wouldn't endorse you if you weren't." Then I jump into my car, hop on the freeway at 5pm to drive to meet another CFI to sign him off for his CFI-I knowledge test. Traffic is heavy so I call him, suggest we meet at Peet's so I can grab a mocha and a snack - a really late lunch. Next comes a night flight with an instrument candidate that both of us wish had gone better. Then it's back home for dinner and an hour to unwind before bed.

Wednesday morning starts early with a meeting with the FAA inspector to chat about my CFI candidate before his re-check. I do my best to smooth things with regard to the aircraft logbooks, and then I'm off to do an instructional flight to Truckee that had been postponed several times due to uncooperative winds aloft. This day we have very calm winds aloft, clear skies, and mild temperatures. Skimming over the Sierra Nevada, just south of Interstate 80, we cross over the Blue Canyon airport, coated with snow. Heading to the ridge that separates us from the Truckee airport, I wait for my pilot to start his descent. He starts a bit late, but with some coaching from yours truly he's able to get down and slow down. He does a great landing. On the return trip, the climb performance of this plane at 8000 to 10,500 feet is quite good - 600 to 700 feet per minute. Of course the OAT is only 5˚ C. The visibility is excellent. I glance to the north and I can see Mt. Shasta in the distance. We arrive back to find that my CFI candidate has passed the oral portion, but the inspector doesn't like the aircraft logs and has given a letter of discontinuance. This is supremely frustrating because the mechanic, if he had just changed the entries as requested, could have prevented this whole mess. My CFI candidate wants to fly again, and the only time I have is tonight ... after I complete another checkout flight in the DiamondStar. Three flights later and another 6 plus hour instructional flying day is done.

My first lesson on Thursday starts later, so I can sleep a bit later. I meet a student pilot who just completed his pre-solo phase check with another instructor. He had protested that he didn't feel ready, but the phase check went very well and I arrive this morning with a trick up my sleeve - a sticker on which I've printed his solo endorsements. We take off, go to the practice area, do some maneuvers, the head back for touch and goes as a warm-up. After two good landings, I suggest that we make the next one a full-stop, I'll get out, and he can see how the plane flies without the 180 pound windbag onboard. He agrees, I endorse his logbook and medical certificate, and after three trips around the patch, he's one of the newest student pilots in the country. I'm always amazed at the feeling of giving someone their wings, which is essentially the authority bestowed on flight instructors. Congrats Bill!

Next, I'm back on the road to meet a new commercial multi-engine student at a different airport. After much paperwork and some discussion about single-engine aerodynamics and procedures, we're off for his first flight. He does well and flies smoothly - something I wish I saw more often in pilots I instruct. He's having a blast and it fun to see him having such a good time.

I gobble down a snack, then meet my instrument student for his second flight of the week. This flight goes much, much better and I observe that he flies that way on the next flight, I'll sign him off for the check ride. During the flight, I see a light on Mt. Diablo that I've not seen before - two red flashes, then a white flash. I ask ATC if they know what it is an get an unenthusiastic "what light?" Another pilot on frequency tells me it's an old navigation beacon that was decommissioned. The beacon, a remnant of the kind that used to define the Federal Airway System, is turned on for just one night each year as a memorial for the December 7, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor.

Friday is another early start with the commercial multi student and the weather forecast calls for rain to move into Northern California. The winds have picked up and the Bay Area airports are already on the southeast plan. We head to the northeast for maneuvers high above Travis Air Force Base with high clouds streaming in from the frontal system that is approaching. Travis Approach gives us traffic advisories but the frequency is eerily quite. We're able to get a practice GPS approach into Concord, even though they have traffic departing the opposite direction. The Concord tower controller is even friendly and cheerful - I usually find them to be uniformly cross and irritable, probably the result of less than ideal working conditions. Back at Oakland, the winds at the surface are light and variable. Above 800' AGL, things are rockin' and rollin'. We do a few touch and goes, but it's clear my student is worn out. Due to the weather, this was a short day allowing me an afternoon nap before I go to the gym.

Three lessons scheduled for tomorrow, but it's not clear the weather will cooperate.

Lions and Tigers and Bears

Learning to fly is a difficult process. Teaching someone to fly is difficult, too. Having been through the former and being currently engaged in the latter, I'm still not sure which is more challenging or rewarding. One thing is for sure, each journey is fraught with difficulties. If you need any evidence, check out Aviatrix Logbook for some poignant, real life stories about the hard times a person can face while trying to earn a flight instructor's certificate.

As a college student, I got into classical studies and one of my favorite subjects was mythology. In particular, I became fascinated by the writings of the late Joseph Campbell. His Hero With a Thousand Faces is a must read for anyone embarking on a quest because it provides a road map of sorts. No one can provide an exact road map for every single person's life, but Campbell provides insights into the symbolic challenges we all face. Yes, that's right - we're all heros, of one sort or another.

One distinction I need to make is that I'm using the term myth to refer to a story with universal, symbolic elements. This is not to be confused with the popular (and incorrect) use of myth as a label for a story that isn't true. A myth, while not factually true, contains symbols and metaphors meant to illuminate our daily existence.

The hero's journey begins with the call. You're going about your life, everything seems boringly normal, and then you are suddenly transported to somewhere strange and foreign. The Call is an element common to virtually all popular myths from a variety of cultures, regardless of when or where the story was created. In the stories, the hero is usually magically transported to a foreign place or their life is changed is some dramatic and fundamental way. But this is just symbolic of how each of our lives can be changed by a simple, everyday event when it is seen with fresh eyes. Call it epiphany if you like, but your life changes from that point forward. For some of us, our lives change when we take our first flight in a light aircraft. If we hear the call and respond, we embark on the journey of becoming a pilot.

In addition to the archetypal hero, there is also the opposite - the anti-hero. A person becomes an anti-hero by hearing the call and choosing, for whatever reason, to actually ignore it. This is a fundamentally bad thing to do and in the mythical stories, ultimately leads to the anti-hero's dismal and depressing life. The anti-hero still provides a useful function by providing a negative example to others.

For those who heed the call, the challenges begin almost immediately. Read The Odyssey and you'll see all manner of road blocks - monsters, siren songs, storms - all manner of hardships that the hero must face. Interestingly, the hero is provided with tools or assistance from a mentor. The mentor is not always benevolent and, in fact, may seem menacing and cruel. By using the tools and the assistance provided by magical forces, the hero can prevail if they remain true to their calling. The monster could be that chief instructor who no one liked. The siren song could be the steady job with the good income that is so boring that it sucks the life out of you. The storms, being lost at sea? Well, here are some examples.

I had a flight instructor candidate last autumn who was good to go until the aircraft he was planning to use for his check ride went down for maintenance and stayed down through the beginning of the new year. It may sound hard to believe, but we couldn't locate an airworthy Cessna 172RG within a 50 nautical mile radius. So what did this gentleman do? He waited, studied, visualized, and read some more - in short, he patiently focused on everything he could do to keep from rotting on the vine. When the time came and the aircraft finally became available, we did a few flights and then he passed his check ride with flying colors.

Almost immediately after earning my flight instructor certificate, I injured my back had to undergo surgery. After the surgery, I was unable to sit (the very thing that flight instructors need to do a lot of) for more than a few minutes at a time. This went on for 4 months and I was, needless to say, demoralized and depressed. So I focused on physical therapy and methodically, step by step, getting stronger. After 6 months, I could teach one lesson per day, followed by laying on an ice pack for several hours. After a year, I was teaching two or three lessons per day. To this day I'm grateful to the neurosurgeon who operated on my back.

So when you can't schedule an aircraft for training, or your instructor just took a real flying job, or you haven't seen VFR conditions for 3 weeks, or the cost of 100 low lead is over $5 a gallon, just remember that the path you are traveling has been trod before. Maybe not the exact path you are on, but one very much like yours. And take heart that your journey is not in vain.