A Cold Day in Snowboard Instruction

Back-to-back-to-back! What a day of giving lessons.

I’ve got a long drive to my teaching “mountain,” but with the iPod, it isn’t so bad. In fact, it’s a time that I can use to catch up on some radio programs I have missed. I still wish that the place was closer to home, but I really enjoy the people there.

Sometime after I arrived, I saw David, another instructor. We ended up parking next to each other. He led our new instructor’s clinic last year. He’s one of the older “young” guys, and he has a young child, which I like. A little more relate-to-able than some of other instructors. I told him about the trip to Aspen and how I had enjoyed teaching my sister-in-law how to ride. He had two boards with him, and one had Flow bindings from about five years ago. I mentioned my strong belief in that design, and he said that he thought it was good for beginners.

I clocked in at 9:30 and wandered around a bit waiting for the 9:50 “bell.” (We met at a picnic shelter with a bell inside it.) I saw Brenda, another instructor. She’s somewhat older than me. I’ve shadowed her in a few lessons, and we easily talk with each other. I hung out with her until 10 and then, as she was gathering her students, I went off for some solo riding for 45-50 minutes.

I spent a week in Aspen, and I was reminded again that I am back in the Midwest. Just as I’m warming up on my slide down the hill, the trail comes to a end. I’ll say this about my home place, though: the snow was nicely groomed, and you could still see the seams in places.

Oddly enough, I found one place where I didn’t like snow being groomed: on one of the “road” trails. Normally it’s an enjoyable trip. The road gives me that feeling of a kid running through the woods. But this morning the seams slowed me down. So I went back to some steeper slopes.

At 10:45 I showed up at the bell to see if there were any students for me. Oh yes there were. Four. Four! Three adults and a youngster. One guy was late teens/early 20s. Then there was another guy, with his 12-year old daughter, and a friend of his visiting from out of town. Oddly enough, the young man had the most difficult time of the four. He was particularly troubled by the bindings. I don’t know why he had trouble, but he just couldn’t get the boots to click. (They are step-ins.) After a while it became obvious that there were differing levels of ability in the group. I hate it when that happens, but it’s inevitable. The 12-year old was doing so-so, as was the out-of-town guest. The dad (a skier) did really well.

The lesson ran long. Mine always do; I like to give the students a lot to work on. After we broke up, I had enough time to go to the car, get some food, and return to the bell with a few minutes to spare before the next appointed meeting.

I’m at the bell, talking with two of the younger instructors when the ski school director calls my name. I’ve got four more students: a guy and his teenaged son, and two other people. (As I write this now, names from the two lessons are merging and I can’t remember the two other people.) As with the first group, some students did better than others, and I spend a lot of time shuttling between a more advanced student, to the person having a lot of trouble with the very basics, to the person who gets some things but not others. Do I like private lessons! It’s so much easier to concentrate on one student.

Time’s up–beyond up, really–and we scatter. I return to my car for another snack, and head back to the bell. Should I ask to be let free, or should I volunteer for another lesson?

Go see if there’s a need for another lesson, I think. It’s not like I’m missing out on some best-in-world terrain if I spend some more time on the bunny hill.

The director says “You haven’t ridden a lot. Are you ready for another lesson?” He says that he’s got two more adults for a lesson. Seeing that they’re adults–a demographic I don’t get to teach that often–I say “sure.” After all, I’m here to get experience teaching, right?

This class consists of a young guy and his girlfriend. As I start the lesson, I go back to the basics, talking about the shape of the board, how to fall, and so forth. As I tick off these points, I wonder if I have made them to the other two classes. Back-to-back-to-back can be demanding, I am learning.

The guy does fairly well once we get going. The girl is always one step behind. It’s back to the split attention mode again. Give him one drill, give her another. I feel sorry for her; I’d like so much to see her “get it,” and I wonder if there’s something else I can do to help. My mind goes blank, except for the thought that everyone progresses at different speeds.

My work suddenly becomes easier, though for the wrong reasons. The girl takes an awkward fall and lands on her wrist. She suspects a sprain and says that she’s going in. Both of the students had been on rollerblades, and she says that she has broken her wrist before, so she knows what a badly hurt wrist feels like. It isn’t broken, but she needs to stop.

I spend another 50 minutes with the guy. The light is starting to fade, which is difficult for anyone, but especially a beginner. He has some successes, and a lot of wipeouts. Still, he doesn’t seem to mind. I encourage him that a maniacal attitude is good; that’s how I learned how to ride.

After the lesson, I think about catching some riding on my own. But the window of opportunity for riding the bumps has gone. They’re too icy now. So too, I suspect, is the giant headwall. It would have made a fun challenge early in the day, but now it would just be a nasty get-through-it experience. I decide to pack it in.

I go back to my car and swap my snowboard boots for some worn out, floppy shoes that I use for driving. Usually I take a big plastic bin o’ gear from the car to the lodge and change: off with the impact shorts, off with the knee pads, on with the shorts that I wear over my long underwear. But today I’m just cold and want to get going.

So who should I meet in the parking lot? David. The same guy I started the day with. We talk about the lessons we gave. Since I’m a freelance worker in my day job, this is about the only time that I get to talk shop with someone who does the same kind of work that I do.

I’ve been outside in the 20 degree cold (with a few indoor breaks) for nearly 8 hours. More than half that time I’ve been walking around talking with people, observing students, and otherwise not even on my board, let alone riding. But it’s been a good day in the snowboarding world anyway.