The Power of Teachers

I had been snowboarding every winter for over 18 years when the winter of 2020 came along. I felt that I was a good rider, comfortable with most all terrain on most all mountains. I rode steep terrain, rode fast, regularly ventured off into the trees, and would seek out the areas advanced enough to separate myself from most other riders. Sure, I would regularly see another that was able to do things or ride areas that I wouldn't but, I still considered myself an advanced rider. For many years I had wanted to have that quintessential snowboarding mountain experience but had never had a way to fit one in with my erratic work schedule. But, with a global pandemic shutting down my industry that obstruction was removed.  And so, I applied to be an instructor at a local mountain figuring, "how hard can it be?"

Instructors prepping the learning area after a fresh dump of snow

It was hard, really hard. You see, as instructors here in the States we are trained to a standardized level of riding that is governed by an organization called AASI, the American Association of Snowboard Instructors. Prior to this season I had been entirely self-taught, just figuring out on my own how to get the board to go where I wanted. Yet, here I was being asked to twist the board to turn instead of using my height more as lever to put the board on edge. I was learning how to make the smaller, more precise movements with my lower body instead of using my weight and leg strength to "force" the board into the direction I wanted. I spent many frustrating weeks trying to unlearn what I had been doing for so many years and replace them with these new techniques. I often went home dejected, feeling like I couldn't ride at all, and even thought about quitting all together. However, I stuck with it because I could see periodic little improvements, even through my frustrations. I also had a couple of great instructors that gave me very pointed feedback based on movement analysis (a highly trained observational skill taught by AASI) and  was able to keep the training sessions fun.

A tired instructor taking a moment to chill out

Then came the day in which we were challenged to ride switch. For those unfamiliar with the sport, we ride our boards sideways with our hips pointed across our direction of travel instead of inline like a skier would. We also will ride with one foot dominantly in the front much like other board sports such as surfing or skateboarding. Riders refer to themselves as regular (left foot forward) or goofy (right foot forward). Riding switch means to spin around 180 degrees and put that lead foot squarely in the back where we are not used to having it. Riding this way during the challenge very quickly put me in the place of all the students I had been teaching so far that season; I was right back to being a beginner again!

All the principals, techniques, drills, and exercises still applied but now I was having to really think about motions that were simply second nature in my normal riding. I not only had to think about reversing the steps of making a turn, I had to return to being aware of my body position and even how my head was turned to see my direction of travel. This challenge really helped me to empathize with my students who were so bravely trying for the first time something so far out of their comfort zones. The frustration came back again but, I had seen improvement and knew that this was adding to my skills.

The author test fitting some new base layers

Then, about half way through the season, all the drills and techniques started to come together. I became more stable and better balanced. I was able to more precisely vary my turns to react to different terrain and obstacles. Riding switch became a regular challenge I gave myself in my personal riding time. Riding off the groomed trails became more varied as I was able to interact with the terrain in ways I hadn't even considered before. I even started venturing into the terrain park to go off jumps and purposedly leave the ground, something that only happened previously when I would drop off something. My riding began to rapidly improve and it began to be even more fun that I had in years past.

But, learning to be an instructor wasn't all about my riding. I was also learning how to connect better with my students. I was learning how to be aware of their needs and to modify the lesson to meet those. I was given exercises and scenarios on how to observe body motions and offer positive ways  to enact lasting change. Through this AASI format I was even learning philosophies about how different people learn in different ways and at different ages. I wasn't just learning how to be a snowboard instructor, I was learning how to be a teacher.

Working body position on flat ground

At the end of that first season I tested and passed the first level of certification through AASI and have been studying for the next level's exam. Each of the three levels of certification increase in magnitudes of precision and difficulty, making the final level years in studying. But, the results I personally experienced that first season of training showed me just how much of an impact a skilled instructor can make.

I don't write this article to say in anyway how great I am or to put an organization such as AASI on a pedestal, we both have our flaws. Instead, I wanted to hopefully shed some light on the depth of experience and training that is behind that couple hour lesson you may have had or one day take. To reveal some of the rigors that we as instructors of many different disciplines accept to satiate the love of sharing our passion with others. But, most of all, to highlight teachers of all kinds and our dedication to our student's success.