Task A.  Effects of Human Behavior and Communication on the Learning Process
– Teaching the adult learner

The FAA emphasizes the importance of the instructor-learner relationship with adult learners to ensure training is founded on respect, clear standards, and intentional instruction. Instructors are responsible for assisting learners, delivering comprehensive instruction, training to established standards, highlighting positives, and minimizing frustration. Additionally, the ACS promotes scenario-based, application-driven training to enhance skill development and assess risk management in realistic contexts.

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“Answering The Why in the Sky”

Written By R. Maclyn Stringer

The flight school scheduled a discovery flight with Landon, and I was the CFI assigned to take him up. When he walked into our pilot’s lounge with tattooed arms, wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and boots, I made a quick assumption about who he was. Laid back, maybe rough around the edges, the kind of guy who rode a cruiser and did not have much patience for details. Within ten minutes, I learned my first lesson of the day: beware of first impressions.

I found out he was forty-five, worked as a physical therapist, and had become interested in aviation a few years earlier, but life had gotten in the way of living. He had a new career, altered finances, and the responsibilities of a single father to his sixteen-year-old daughter; he now had the means to take flight lessons for both himself and his daughter.

I have instructed students ranging from fifteen to seventy-three years old. The FAA’s guidance on teaching emphasizes that adult learners are not just “older versions” of teenagers. I consider older learners to be those over thirty who bring many years of experience and specific expectations into learning.

Young learners often accept the learning process as presented. They do the repetitions, take the coaching, and let results prove the method, which is how Landon’s daughter took instruction. I would tell her what to do, and she just did it.

Adult learners want to gain knowledge in ways that are relevant to reaching their goals. They value their independence, not out of stubbornness, but because they’ve spent many years making their own choices. Respect is also crucial for adult learners. While all learners need respect, adults are susceptible to anything that might threaten their competence or self-esteem.

From Landon’s first lesson, he was ready to learn and excited to climb into the aircraft first thing in the morning. He arrived prepared, focused, and committed.

During the primary flight lessons, he took instructions well. He listened and performed the tasks as I taught them. He would occasionally ask questions to understand the rationale for practicing the maneuver. He wanted to know why we did it that way and how it fit into the bigger picture. Landon was a perfect example of an adult learner who needed a careful balance between instruction and respect.

Initially, repeating basic flight maneuvers and tirelessly completing touch-and-goes didn’t bother him, but over time, irritation began to show. I noticed that he would sigh when I mentioned why we were doing something or calling out “air speed” on the base to final turn. Glance away, sometimes rolling his eyes when I corrected him. He would tighten his voice when I repeated a point he believed he already understood. He started saying things like, “I know,” or “You don’t have to tell me that again,” or “I was going to do that next,” even when I could see clearly that it was not going to be done.

Repetition, as every instructor knows, can sound like nagging when the student has already intellectually learned the concept. From his perspective, it felt like I was talking down to him. I was not, but perception matters.

Here is the problem: flying is not just knowledge. It is coordination. It is timing. You can understand a procedure in one lesson and still need ten more lessons before your hands and feet perform consistently. You cannot reason your way into a perfectly timed flare. You cannot “logic” your way into coordinated turns if your feet have not yet learned how much pressure to apply to the rudder. And you especially cannot perform the physical task well when your mind is focused on the mental aspects of flying, maintaining altitude, navigating straight and level, and communicating with ATC or those other pilots in a non-towered environment.

Landon was sharp. He grasped information quickly. He could visualize airspace, predict what ATC might say, and explain the purpose of procedures with the clarity of someone who educates patients for a living. But this was done in a comfortable, familiar environment.
That mismatch is where adult learners can get frustrated. Their mind feels ready, but their muscle memory is still developing.

As I became more aware of the tension between Landon and me, I thought about the aggravation I had in my own training as an adult learner with a young instructor. My thoughts turned to my CFI training and the Flight Instructor’s Handbook. The book emphasizes that effective teaching with adult learners goes beyond simply conveying information; it involves shaping the learning environment to keep them motivated, engaged, and progressing toward their objectives. The cohesive relationship between the instructor and learner is an integral component of the training process.

I decided it was time for a reality check. Landon needed a lesson that would let the real world of aviation do some of the teaching. I scheduled a cross-country flight for the two of us to give Landon firsthand experience with the full responsibility of flying and serving as the pilot in command. This included navigation, radios, entering and exiting the pattern, adapting to different environments, and making continuous decisions. My aim was for him to understand why the fundamentals are essential for a safe flight.

During our briefing, I clearly outlined the objective. “Today isn’t about perfection,” I told him. “It’s about awareness. It’s about recognizing how many factors you need to manage and learning how to stay ahead of the airplane.” I explained that we would fly to several airports and gave him the name of each. Some were familiar, others new. “You will be the pilot in control, while I remain the pilot in command. You’ll handle navigation and communication both in and out of the airports. If you have questions, ask me.” I wanted to stress that I was not trying to belittle him. He nodded confidently, but I noticed a hint of skepticism, the part of him still believing he was closer to passing the check ride than I thought. I had already completed our flight plan earlier, expecting him to suggest we needed to do one, but he didn’t. He was ready to fly.

We departed from our home towered airport. He performed all the tasks as required and did them well. The radio communications were smooth, and other than a couple of minor altitude fluctuations, he kept the airplane in straight-and-level flight. We entered the familiar pattern at a close non-towered airport, and after a little float past the thousand-footers, the airplane came down smoothly.

Then we moved to another non-towered airport further away from home that he had never been to. This is where I started to see the shift in his mental workload. At twenty-five miles out, I asked, “What should we be doing?”

After a brief time for him to think, Landon responded, “Weather.”
“Good, okay, let’s get it.” Landon looked down and fumbled with his iPad, searching for the radio frequencies for the new airport. I watched him put his head down to scan the chart, then look outside, then back to the chart. Every time his head dropped inside to read the EFB, the airplane slowly banked left. I did not scold him. I just coached the priorities, saying “Altitude,” or “Watch your bank.”

“I should have done this while on the ground.” He said. I simply responded, “Yep.”

After he got the weather, I asked, “What runway and how are we going to enter the pattern for this airport?” Now he had to visualize an unfamiliar pattern, interpret what other aircraft were doing without ATC guidance, and manage his own radio calls. The mental workload changed, increased, and became more stressful.

The other aircraft were flying around like gnats, which is normal at this airport. This particular airport has two runways that do not intersect. Pilots land on the north-south runway and the east-west runway simultaneously. The airport has a reputation for cowboys running wild while instructors try to make sense of the insanity.

“It looks like people are using both runways,” Landed said, puzzled. I nodded. “Yes, they do. You need to state your intentions and keep your head on a swivel. You do not want your aircraft in the same airspace as another. That will make for a bad day.”

He made radio calls, stumbling over his words, trying to explain how he was going to enter the downwind at a forty-five, going south, while looking for the straight in traffic coming from the west, with another announcing they were six miles south on a practice RNAV approach. We made the landing, and the taxi back felt slightly less confident. I could see his mind juggling what he had just done and what he had to do. We stopped, and I told him the next airport. I explained that it was towered, but a different kind of tower. This time, he made a plan for getting there. “That airport is only twenty miles away.” He said.

“Yup, about ten minutes in the air,” I responded.
He examined the airspace and programmed the frequencies into the avionics. We departed this airport and within a few minutes reached cruise altitude of two thousand feet AGL. He made his last call to the previous airport, then tuned the radio to the ATIS, copied the information, set frequencies, and planned the entry.

I left out one peculiar thing about the next airport. This airport tower does not have radar. In fact, they do not even have a tower. The controllers reside in a trailer next to the runway. ATC instructs the pilot to inform them when they are five miles out, then, upon entering midfield, to look for the other aircraft in the pattern. Some may be right downwind, while others are left downwind, amid fast jet traffic.

“Contact tower ten miles out,” I told him. He was scanning for traffic, managing airspeed, altitude, and heading; he was doing well. At ten miles out, he contacted the tower requesting a touch-and-go. ATC told him to report five miles out. At five miles out, Landon contacted the tower to inform them that we were five miles out. The tower instructed him to report midfield for right downwind.

When we entered midfield, Landon reported our position. ATC responded, “Continue downwind, there is traffic on a two-mile final, report the traffic on final when in sight.

What are your intentions after the touch and go?” Landon looked at me. I told him, “Depart to the south.” He pressed the mic key and told ATC, “We want to depart to the south.” ATC continued their communications with other traffic in the pattern. There was traffic on final, one on the left downwind, and us on the right downwind.

“We have traffic in sight,” Landon said confidently.

ATC responded, “Turn base abeam that traffic, cleared to land, after touch and go, fly runway heading one mile then left turn to the south.”
The task saturation was setting in. This was what I wanted him to taste. He looked at me with bewilderment. I keyed up and responded, “After departure, one mile, left turn to the south.”

“What is that?” Landon said sharply to me, with an uneasy expression on his face. He did not mean it disrespectfully. He meant it like someone under pressure trying to keep his world in order.

I stayed calm and let him work. “You’re doing alright. Did you catch everything that was said?”

“He spoke too fast for me to write everything down,” Landon responded.
I explained what ATC wanted from him. He nodded in understanding. I avoided coaching him for the rest of the landing, offering only necessary comments and ensuring he made the decisions himself. Adult learners value autonomy and control, so the challenge is to provide that control while maintaining safety and boosting their confidence. He successfully executed the touch-and-go with the left turn-out.

As we flew back to our home airport, Landon was quieter, with less chit-chatting, and focused on the flight through the busy practice area. I could see his mind thinking and perhaps realizing he had been underestimating the requirements to fly safely as a private pilot. He was still performing, but the confidence had been replaced by something more valuable, respect for complexity.

I asked him a simple question. “How do you feel?”

He paused. “It’s a lot,” he said finally.

As we got closer to our home-towered airport, his confidence began to build again. The familiarity now had context. The radio calls that used to feel like isolated skills now felt like one piece of an entire system.

After securing the aircraft, we walked back into the classroom, and I asked him to debrief the flight first. Adult learners respond well when you let them self-assess. It has a way of protecting their self-esteem and strengthening their sense of ownership. He shook his head slowly. “That was pretty stressful. I got so behind the aircraft,” he said. “Yep,” I responded. “It happens quickly. A pilot isn’t someone who knows just the procedures. It’s someone who can manage the changes, the unknown. We don’t get to pull over on the side of the road. We keep moving forward. Wait until you start flying IMC.”

We talked about the basics, not as beginner material, but as tools to reduce workload. Proper planning, using checklists, scanning for traffic, standard radio calls, trimming the airplane, using a shorthand for notes, all those things that can feel repetitive when used consistently, will lessen the workload.

“That’s why I continually repeat, checklist, airspeed, altitude, are you trimmed,” I said. “Not because I think you’re slow. Because repetition builds muscle memory and reliability.”

He nodded. “I get it now.”

The following lessons did not seem as aggravating to him. Landon did not need me to prove he was wrong. He required an authentic experience that answered his questions. Once he had that, the repetition stopped feeling like redundancy and started feeling like preparation. He understood there was a long way to go and a lot of learning to be developed before he could be the competent pilot he wanted to be.

I try to teach adult learners in a different relationship than with young students. With adult learners, the relationship shifts from instructor-to-student to instructor-with-student, creating a cooperative learning environment. Teaching is not only about the content but also about understanding the learner, especially when the learner is an adult, motivated, capable, and determined to make sense of every step on the way to becoming a pilot.