PHXAvi8tor
Pre-takeoff checklist
Again, thanks for the huge congrats.
This felt bigger to me than my college graduation. Bigger than my first solo!
Some had asked for a recap of the checkride.
I am not sure if mine was typical, or not. I do know this: Every DPE will test you based on the PTS. Regardless of the style of each DPE, each candidate is tested to the same standards. All must meet the same standards.
Here goes:
Night before the checkride: Sheer panic at 7:30 p.m. I lost my entire set of Commercial Pilot lesson plans! Rebuilt alternate set from electronic backup files on computer.
4:30 a.m. day of checkride:
Unable to sleep after only 7 hours. Get up, cram through Oral Exam Guide one last time. Ate well-balanced breakfast for "brain food." Too tired to really do this thing. Wished I had more rest.
8 a.m.: Meet my instructor. We go over maintenance logs for the Arrow. I practice teaching how to prove it's airworthy (one last time). Use the AVIATES acronym.
8:30 a.m.: DPE calls to remind us he's running late.
8:30 a.m. to 10 a.m.: I pace the halls of the flight school, mentally reviewing all the critical oral exam questions from the PTS. Everyone knows I'm there for the checkride. They let me pace. I run across the street to the airport bookstore, and tell "Mike" I'm doing the checkride. He reminds me he wants his flight review when I get done. OK, one more thing to remember.
10 a.m.: DPE arrives. I'm not ready for this. My hands feel like ice as I shake his hand.
10 to 10:20: Chit-chat. He really works hard to help me relax. He's a great guy, and you can tell he's sincerely and passionately dedicated to the flying profession -- general aviation in particular. We hit it off. I'm still so nervous that I feel like barfing.
10:20: He says he's going to push me to my limits of "correlative knowledge" and mix things up a whole lot. He wants to see just how well I have integrated the FoI, the technical subject areas, and applied them to everyday instructional flight.
I brace for what I think will be his first question: "What is learning?"
NOPE!! He never, ever, asked that question.
Instead, he dove in with a scenario of a commercial multi-engine instructor who wants a single-engine add-on to his instructor ticket, and wants to trade services: Will I teach the guy for his single-engine add-on in exchange for getting my multi-add on? It's a setup. I immediately say, "No way! I'm brand new. You have to be a two-year CFI." Wrong. That's only for the CFI Initial. He helps me discover the language in the regs myself without telling me. I spotted it. I correct myself. He's satisfied.
The rest of the morning is filled with scenario after scenario like this. Not once did he ask a question that you'd recognize as coming out of an Oral Exam Guide. But, all his questions were firmly rooted in the PTS and directly tied to discovering whether I had gone beyond just rote memorization.
Instead, in conversation I'd let something slip out in conversation about the Fundamentals of Instruction -- i.e. "learning should be multifaceted because flying involves all of our senses and adult learners also tend to learn more if we keep things lively, hands-on and interesting." He'd duly note it, check it off a list he was keeping, and we'd continue our conversation.
So, the oral exam turned out to be one giant, scenario-based conversation about how to teach, technical subject areas, regs, etc.
He wanted me to teach how to create a simple flight plan and picked out two places on the charts. I started in, then I told him, "You know what? I already developed a sample flight plan for a student. Why don't I pull that out and go over it with you? He was fine with that. I started explaining how each item on the flight plan is calculated.
After 15 minutes, as we got deeper and deeper into explaining how to convert to pressure altitude in order to do performance planning for the airplane, he said, "OK's that's enough. I'm satisfied. Let's go get some lunch! Bring your Pilot's Information Manual with you."
So, over lunch we talked about the Arrow, and her systems, and how a constant-speed prop works, and so on and so forth. It was like a good conversation. But, he was checking to ensure I could teach.
After lunch, he said, "Let's go fly!"
I "taught" him how to do a thorough preflight. Don't forget to compare the printed documents in the plane with the serial number plate on the fuselage! I pointed that out, and he seemed impressed. Sometimes, documents can get mixed up in maintenance, and you may be looking at an airworthiness certificate for the OTHER Arrow on the tarmac.
I went above and beyond, and had checked all of Piper's service bulletins online. I pointed out inspection points on the nosegear that Piper recommended, which aren't on the checklist, but nonetheless should be looked at. He laid down on his back and looked up at the nosegear wheelwell. A huge drop of oil plopped down on his eye. I thought I had already blinded my DPE. Checkride over! It was just residual oil. Plane still flyable.
Airwork:
He wanted things to be correlative. We had discussed that morning the important reasons for teaching slow flight to students. So, as soon as we got out of Class Delta, and to a safe altitude, I took the initiative: "Let me teach you some slow flight! I'm going to start with some clearing turns, and while we're doing these turns I'll tell you what slow flight is -- it's anything slower than cruise, but we're going to do them at minimum controllable airspeed. Why? Because I want you to see the relationship between pitch and power, as well as understand just how the airplane feels at imminent stall." And, then I launched into it. Various settings. Configurations. More power, less power, let altitude start dropping, add power to correct it, etc.
He seemed satisfied, and asked me to demonstrate cross-controlled stalls. No problemo. Did that fine.
He asked for an accelerated stall demonstration. I froze! I had done these before, but for some reason my mind went blank. I turned to him and said: "As I recall, we do accelerated stalls usually in a steep bank."
He said, "Yes, but you can have an accelerated stall in almost any configuration, can't you? Load factor is the biggest thing. So, I have the controls."
He takes the controls and shows me a thing or two about accelerated stalls that went beyond anything I'd seen in training before, but was exactly technically correct. Wow! I learned something."
He was satisfied, or so it seemed.
We were still 6000 MSL (4500 AGL), when he pulled the power and said, "Engine failure, I want you to spiral down right over that spot over there and do a simulated forced landing, rolling out on a downwind to that road over there."
He combined several procedures into one event -- steep spirals, emergency descent, emergency procedures, forced landings, etc. I executed it fine, talking through it as an instructor the whole time.
Just remember the "what and the why" of everything, and explain it.
We did a bunch more maneuvers. As usual, I struggled with Eights-on-Pylons, but tried my best to turn problems into "teaching moments."
We headed back, did all or most of the various kinds of landings -- short, soft, power-off, etc.
Taxied back. Mostly dead silence during the taxi back.
Examiner jumps out, says he's going to get set up for some paperwork while I tie down the plane.
I head to the lobby. Everyone stopped (or so it seemed). All eyes were on me.
Dispatcher asks, "Well, did he tell you that you failed?"
"No. He didn't say anything."
Dispatcher gives me a big thumbs-up. "That means you passed!"
I don't believe it.
I walk back to the pilot briefing area. Both my former CFIs are there. A half dozen other CFIs are there, too. A couple walk up to me ready to shake my hand. I pull back and tell them, "He hasn't said I passed yet! He says he wants to do a post-flight debrief." The whole room slumps.
I drag my most current CFI into the debrief with me. I figured he would want to hear whatever has to be said -- regardless of whether it's good or bad news.
The DPE asks only one question, "I want you to tell me what you consistently did out there today that was wrong." I knew what it was: Terrible attention to altitude control, particularly in the traffic pattern just due to the hectic environment in the pattern that day with some other students who weren't following the tower's directions and my nerves and a million other things.
But, I instead stupidly blurt out -- "throttle control."
He says, "Yeah, that's true. That's getting to the heart of it."
In my mind, the whole time, I was still perturbed about my poor altitude control.
So, I finally just say it, "You know, I don't know if I can answer your question. But, I do know that I absolutely hated the way I managed my altitude in all the different maneuvers today. It's just not like me to be that way, and it really bugged me ... I wish ...."
BINGO! That's what he wanted to hear.
"You know what, Ben? You just need to get out there and start teaching. That's what you need to do. Get some experience teaching. I know you can do that."
So, he started typing on his laptop, and a few seconds later out comes from his printer the Temporary Airman Certificate.
"Congratulations. Welcome to the teaching profession," he says.
I just about break down. Total disbelief.
I start filling out my logbook while he completes more paperwork.
I ask the DPE: "How do you want me to enter this time today in my logbook -- dual received, PIC?"
He says, "Are you kidding? You put it down as 'dual-given.' I learned some things from YOU today!"
This felt bigger to me than my college graduation. Bigger than my first solo!
Some had asked for a recap of the checkride.
I am not sure if mine was typical, or not. I do know this: Every DPE will test you based on the PTS. Regardless of the style of each DPE, each candidate is tested to the same standards. All must meet the same standards.
Here goes:
Night before the checkride: Sheer panic at 7:30 p.m. I lost my entire set of Commercial Pilot lesson plans! Rebuilt alternate set from electronic backup files on computer.
4:30 a.m. day of checkride:
Unable to sleep after only 7 hours. Get up, cram through Oral Exam Guide one last time. Ate well-balanced breakfast for "brain food." Too tired to really do this thing. Wished I had more rest.
8 a.m.: Meet my instructor. We go over maintenance logs for the Arrow. I practice teaching how to prove it's airworthy (one last time). Use the AVIATES acronym.
8:30 a.m.: DPE calls to remind us he's running late.
8:30 a.m. to 10 a.m.: I pace the halls of the flight school, mentally reviewing all the critical oral exam questions from the PTS. Everyone knows I'm there for the checkride. They let me pace. I run across the street to the airport bookstore, and tell "Mike" I'm doing the checkride. He reminds me he wants his flight review when I get done. OK, one more thing to remember.
10 a.m.: DPE arrives. I'm not ready for this. My hands feel like ice as I shake his hand.
10 to 10:20: Chit-chat. He really works hard to help me relax. He's a great guy, and you can tell he's sincerely and passionately dedicated to the flying profession -- general aviation in particular. We hit it off. I'm still so nervous that I feel like barfing.
10:20: He says he's going to push me to my limits of "correlative knowledge" and mix things up a whole lot. He wants to see just how well I have integrated the FoI, the technical subject areas, and applied them to everyday instructional flight.
I brace for what I think will be his first question: "What is learning?"
NOPE!! He never, ever, asked that question.
Instead, he dove in with a scenario of a commercial multi-engine instructor who wants a single-engine add-on to his instructor ticket, and wants to trade services: Will I teach the guy for his single-engine add-on in exchange for getting my multi-add on? It's a setup. I immediately say, "No way! I'm brand new. You have to be a two-year CFI." Wrong. That's only for the CFI Initial. He helps me discover the language in the regs myself without telling me. I spotted it. I correct myself. He's satisfied.
The rest of the morning is filled with scenario after scenario like this. Not once did he ask a question that you'd recognize as coming out of an Oral Exam Guide. But, all his questions were firmly rooted in the PTS and directly tied to discovering whether I had gone beyond just rote memorization.
Instead, in conversation I'd let something slip out in conversation about the Fundamentals of Instruction -- i.e. "learning should be multifaceted because flying involves all of our senses and adult learners also tend to learn more if we keep things lively, hands-on and interesting." He'd duly note it, check it off a list he was keeping, and we'd continue our conversation.
So, the oral exam turned out to be one giant, scenario-based conversation about how to teach, technical subject areas, regs, etc.
He wanted me to teach how to create a simple flight plan and picked out two places on the charts. I started in, then I told him, "You know what? I already developed a sample flight plan for a student. Why don't I pull that out and go over it with you? He was fine with that. I started explaining how each item on the flight plan is calculated.
After 15 minutes, as we got deeper and deeper into explaining how to convert to pressure altitude in order to do performance planning for the airplane, he said, "OK's that's enough. I'm satisfied. Let's go get some lunch! Bring your Pilot's Information Manual with you."
So, over lunch we talked about the Arrow, and her systems, and how a constant-speed prop works, and so on and so forth. It was like a good conversation. But, he was checking to ensure I could teach.
After lunch, he said, "Let's go fly!"
I "taught" him how to do a thorough preflight. Don't forget to compare the printed documents in the plane with the serial number plate on the fuselage! I pointed that out, and he seemed impressed. Sometimes, documents can get mixed up in maintenance, and you may be looking at an airworthiness certificate for the OTHER Arrow on the tarmac.
I went above and beyond, and had checked all of Piper's service bulletins online. I pointed out inspection points on the nosegear that Piper recommended, which aren't on the checklist, but nonetheless should be looked at. He laid down on his back and looked up at the nosegear wheelwell. A huge drop of oil plopped down on his eye. I thought I had already blinded my DPE. Checkride over! It was just residual oil. Plane still flyable.
Airwork:
He wanted things to be correlative. We had discussed that morning the important reasons for teaching slow flight to students. So, as soon as we got out of Class Delta, and to a safe altitude, I took the initiative: "Let me teach you some slow flight! I'm going to start with some clearing turns, and while we're doing these turns I'll tell you what slow flight is -- it's anything slower than cruise, but we're going to do them at minimum controllable airspeed. Why? Because I want you to see the relationship between pitch and power, as well as understand just how the airplane feels at imminent stall." And, then I launched into it. Various settings. Configurations. More power, less power, let altitude start dropping, add power to correct it, etc.
He seemed satisfied, and asked me to demonstrate cross-controlled stalls. No problemo. Did that fine.
He asked for an accelerated stall demonstration. I froze! I had done these before, but for some reason my mind went blank. I turned to him and said: "As I recall, we do accelerated stalls usually in a steep bank."
He said, "Yes, but you can have an accelerated stall in almost any configuration, can't you? Load factor is the biggest thing. So, I have the controls."
He takes the controls and shows me a thing or two about accelerated stalls that went beyond anything I'd seen in training before, but was exactly technically correct. Wow! I learned something."
He was satisfied, or so it seemed.
We were still 6000 MSL (4500 AGL), when he pulled the power and said, "Engine failure, I want you to spiral down right over that spot over there and do a simulated forced landing, rolling out on a downwind to that road over there."
He combined several procedures into one event -- steep spirals, emergency descent, emergency procedures, forced landings, etc. I executed it fine, talking through it as an instructor the whole time.
Just remember the "what and the why" of everything, and explain it.
We did a bunch more maneuvers. As usual, I struggled with Eights-on-Pylons, but tried my best to turn problems into "teaching moments."
We headed back, did all or most of the various kinds of landings -- short, soft, power-off, etc.
Taxied back. Mostly dead silence during the taxi back.
Examiner jumps out, says he's going to get set up for some paperwork while I tie down the plane.
I head to the lobby. Everyone stopped (or so it seemed). All eyes were on me.
Dispatcher asks, "Well, did he tell you that you failed?"
"No. He didn't say anything."
Dispatcher gives me a big thumbs-up. "That means you passed!"
I don't believe it.
I walk back to the pilot briefing area. Both my former CFIs are there. A half dozen other CFIs are there, too. A couple walk up to me ready to shake my hand. I pull back and tell them, "He hasn't said I passed yet! He says he wants to do a post-flight debrief." The whole room slumps.
I drag my most current CFI into the debrief with me. I figured he would want to hear whatever has to be said -- regardless of whether it's good or bad news.
The DPE asks only one question, "I want you to tell me what you consistently did out there today that was wrong." I knew what it was: Terrible attention to altitude control, particularly in the traffic pattern just due to the hectic environment in the pattern that day with some other students who weren't following the tower's directions and my nerves and a million other things.
But, I instead stupidly blurt out -- "throttle control."
He says, "Yeah, that's true. That's getting to the heart of it."
In my mind, the whole time, I was still perturbed about my poor altitude control.
So, I finally just say it, "You know, I don't know if I can answer your question. But, I do know that I absolutely hated the way I managed my altitude in all the different maneuvers today. It's just not like me to be that way, and it really bugged me ... I wish ...."
BINGO! That's what he wanted to hear.
"You know what, Ben? You just need to get out there and start teaching. That's what you need to do. Get some experience teaching. I know you can do that."
So, he started typing on his laptop, and a few seconds later out comes from his printer the Temporary Airman Certificate.
"Congratulations. Welcome to the teaching profession," he says.
I just about break down. Total disbelief.
I start filling out my logbook while he completes more paperwork.
I ask the DPE: "How do you want me to enter this time today in my logbook -- dual received, PIC?"
He says, "Are you kidding? You put it down as 'dual-given.' I learned some things from YOU today!"
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