SATIRE TO THOSE WHO HAVE ALREADY BEEN,THOSE WHO ARE NOW AND THOSE WHO WILL BE STUDENT PILOTS

Of the Air Transportation Pilot License (ATPL) or Private Pilot License (PPL) Courses.

Every pilot begins as a student pilot, whether the aim is to fly for a hobby or to fly for a career.

For the record, this poem is not my own and I do not know the author. It was given to me by a former Student Pilot, but I am making it known because laughing at ourselves is a virtue and is healthy.

Satire is a poetic construction, free and full of irony that opposes the customs, ideas or institutions of the time.

Satire referring to what are now the first 13 hours of learning on a 200-hour (ATPL) or 45-hour (PPL) course, after which we should be able to pilot the plane in which we received instruction on our own, in solo flight, only the Student Pilot on board, under the supervision of the Instructor Pilot on the ground and on the manoeuvring area of an aerodrome (a rectangular circuit centred on the runway, to the left or right), including 3 takeoffs and 3 landings... and a shower, come rain or shine, heat or cold... with entitlement to your “half wing”, receiving the other half only at the end of the course!

Taking off and landing a plane is easy for those who know how, but it is not easy for the learner and is perhaps one the most difficult manoeuvres for those who know nothing... because the runway does not stay still... oops, and not because of the wind.

Come to us, o rough stone

Dishevelled look, aspect deplorable

Thus begins the great showdown

For us to achieve the improbable

Moulding a horrifying actor

Into a future aviator

Aerodynamics classes, electrical systems

Fuel and oil

Slides, charts and diagrams

Cause great turmoil

Equipment, exterior inspection

Get underway, brakes, taxi

Aircraft engine run up completion

And then, my God, takeoff

Do not leave the runway heading, please

Oh little wing, onward without fail

If you want to live to tell the tale

And there in the air, perfectly sold

With so many dials that need switching

A frenzied look, knees a-twitching

Nothing in there makes any sense

Gradually you find your way

Despite rare things you’re underway

Patience is a virtue

But this is the sad bead

If at some point you stabilize your altitude

You cannot maintain your speed

It’s intolerable, the lack of skill

The poor instructor’s had his fill

The solo circuits patterns are terrible nightmares

Over which I’m going to skim

Showy and agile, it’s great to see

If you come short, will reduce engine power

If you come high, will increase engine power

The runway constantly seems to move

The feet and hands cannot correct

And if, by some miracle, to land you manage

The landing gear will go to maintenance

This is how you spend your time

And the list of disasters continues to climb

Post-flight discussion takes very little time

As each flight is a truly epic rime

But there comes a day, into despair you spin

Nothing further can be done

Take advantage of the lack of wind

And I’ll put you to fly solo

But the suffering hasn’t finished yet

To the mobile tower I must proceed

Now I am with doubts beset

I don’t know whether to cry or flee

Each landing is the purest hell

I bite my nails and give him lip

As a proper aviator does zip

I’d prefer to go there, like this it’s hard

When you finally reach the parking

He tells me smiling, without a care

It was much better without you there

I almost break him into pieces

I give him a whack and a kick, which he shrugs

And to end it all, a hug

To call a student erudite

I wonder how that can be right

He has a hardened skull, thinks with his feet

But we’re enthusiastic about his flight

He’s the next great pilot we’re going to meet