You don’t have to be a former Olympian to be a ski instructor

By Clark Williams

When my daughter first suggested that I attend the hiring clinic at the mountain where she taught, I thought she was kidding. I was no real pro on skis, but she assured me that, if I was having one of my good days, I should be able to pass the mandatory mirror test. For those of you not familiar with this test, the examiner holds a mirror under your nose and if it fogs over, you pass. I managed to pass this test so my instructor career was off to a great start.  Then came the skiing. That was another matter altogether. Fortunately for me the primary skill this ski school was looking for was your ability to communicate with the students/guests. If you had the correct personality, they figured they could teach you how to ski. And they certainly tried.

The hiring of 100+ new ski instructors is a rather complicated process.  The group of new hires that I was part of was fairly large, I think there were over a hundred thirty, and it was certainly an eclectic bunch. Ages ranged from 15 to undisclosed. Everything from high school/college students to lawyers, architects, construction workers, moms, retirees, and a few victims of midlife crises.  All with one common interest; getting a free seasons pass.                  

I was 46 at the onset of this little adventure. I had been skiing since my late 30’s but not often, so my skills were along the Blue Circle level. Once I saw some of the others in my class skiing I thought it was time to pack up my stuff and quietly slip away. Some of these people must have been born on skis. However, after further observation, there appeared to be skiers of all levels - all the way down to my level. So I decided to stick around. If nothing else I would get some free skiing in with a few lessons to boot.                           

Before we got to the part of training that involved snow, we spent two days inside going through various tests and team building exercises. I assume these were all designed to see how well we dealt with people, and how high our “play” drive was. These exercises involved different teams doing things like building protective cages for eggs. These cages consisted of drinking straws and a limited amount of Scotch tape. The cages where subsequently dropped from various heights, until only one egg was left unbroken. (Not that it matters, but my team won, which basically meant we didn’t have to clean up any mess). I should point out that at no time was anyone given anything sharp or pointy to work with, and by day two I could see why. This might be a good time to note what type of person is interested in the sport of skiing. They are obviously outdoor-oriented, as well as rather outgoing, active kind of folks. So by day two of sitting inside at a ski resort, some us were getting a little rowdy, but thanks to the due diligence of the ski school staff, nobody died and there was very little bloodshed.  I have to admit that most of the little exercises did end up being fun, and anybody that played along got to advance to the part that involved snow.

As difficult as it was to maintain the attention of all these instructor wannabees indoors, once they got a whiff of snow it was significantly worse. Especially the first time out. Now as you may have guessed the folks running this shindig have had some experience in corralling and herding large distracted groups of people of diverse ages, genders, mental states etc. They quickly divided us up into classes of 5 to 8 wannabees with one veteran instructor. Then off we went to hone our own skiing skills and learn how to impart that knowledge to our future guests as if we had been doing it since birth. The veterans had of course been through this before, so most of them gave us a chance to let them run before trying to impart any pearls of wisdom. Once that was done we settled down to the semi-serous task of learning to be a ski instructor.

 In our first arduous two days of training ( read, indoor training) we learned about the four different types of learning processes people have, the four different skills used in skiing, the four different teaching styles, the seven steps in conducting a lesson, as well as the seven rules in the skiers’ responsibility code, etc. All good stuff to know, but trying to translate it into an actual lesson was a rude awakening for most of us. Those of us from the boomer generation probably would have been better served if we had actually listened to this stuff instead of wondering just which one of us was the oldest in the room and how did we think we were ever going to keep up with all those kids in the group. Anyway one of the tasks during these training classes was to conduct a mock lesson.  My first time trying to give instructions was not much better then my ability to follow instructions.  However through the great patience of several trainers (for some reason I was shifted from trainer to trainer a lot) it slowly came together. So using the same credo doctors follow “Do No Harm” it was decided that I was actually safe to turn loose on unsuspecting guests. (Be afraid, be very afraid).

My first class consisted of eight never-evers.  Now these are guests that you want to encourage to come back and join the sport full time. It was also my first class so I really wanted things to go well. If “well” means nobody died or got hurt, then it indeed went well. If “well” means they all learned to make effortless wedge turns from top to bottom of the Beginners Hill and signed up for a season passes, I’m afraid things fell a little short of expectations. I found it a little difficult to go through the seven steps of a proper lesson while picking up adults who could not stand up even though they only had on one ski and were standing still. Further through this never-ending lesson I found myself chasing students who had managed to stand on two skis and somehow point them down the hill, but could not turn them. Before long I had students all over the Beginner’s Hill, which of course, is the perfect time for the assistant director to walk by and ask how things are going. At this point I’m figuring that I just had one of the shortest careers in the history of the skiing industry.

It’s been eleven years since that lesson and after lots and lots of students (all of whom survived) I think I’m beginning to catch on.

The moral of this little story is, if you want to get a free season pass, some great instruction for yourself, and a perfect excuse for getting out of the house to ski (sorry dear, but it is a real job, I have to go.) as well as turning people on to skiing, then check out your local mountain. If they were desperate enough to give me a job, you have got a good chance.  

Clark Williams survived that first season and has gone on to work for ten more as a part time instructor at an eastern mountain. His fervent wish is to pursue instructing full time after retirement.