“So, you’re a ski instructor? Can I get some free tips so I can teach my daughter?”
A common refrain from friends or new acquaintances.
A little secret from the “professional” ski instructor. Just bite the bullet and enroll them in a proper ski lesson.
I say this not because I work as a ski instructor, but because I too have made that fatal mistake of thinking I could teach a family member. I’m here to tell you it doesn’t work.
When we first moved to Colorado eleven years ago, my husband had never been downhill skiing. I was thrilled to be moving out west again, because I fell in love with skiing at eighteen years old. I took a hiatus from the sport while living in the Washington, DC area, but longed to get back into it. Moving to a state renowned for champagne powder and a multitude of ski resorts, I couldn’t wait to slide down mountains again.
I wanted Bryon to love the sport as much as me, and thought I could impart my wisdom and teach him, even though I’d never instructed in my life.
We went to a small resort near Glenwood Springs called Sunlight for our first outing. As part of National Learn to Ski Day, they had advertised free lessons. Unfortunately, we got there too late, and so I gave it my best effort to teach my husband how to ski.
After skiing for many years, it’s easy to forget all the basics, and how foreign it can be for someone new to the sport. Ski boots are impossible to wrangle onto your feet, and they are stiff and clunky. Just trying to walk in them can be challenging enough, much less strapping a ski to them. And how exactly do you put a boot into a binding?
After finally getting skis on, I showed him the basics of the “snowplow” and then proceeded to the chairlift on the bunny hill. Slowly, ever so slowly, he made his way down in his snowplow. But I had no idea what he should do after that, other than just ski. And so we found another green trail that he could practice his snowplow on, with me providing “coaching” along the way.
I quickly tired of this laborious task, not knowing what to tell him in order to expedite turning or any other skills. The day turned colder, and as he slowly navigated the bunny slope, I found myself getting annoyed, wanting to go faster, wanting to ski more difficult terrain. I’m ashamed to admit this, but eventually I ditched him.
“I’m getting really cold, do you mind if I just ski on down and wait for you at the lodge?”
Without waiting for an answer, I took off.
Needless to say, it wasn’t the greatest experience for either one of us. Fortunately, on our next occasion of skiing, Bryon signed up for an all day lesson with three other beginners, and I went skiing on my own. At the end of the day, he excitedly told me about how great his ski day had been, and all the things he had learned. Skiing with him the next day, I realized how worthwhile his taking a lesson from a “real” ski instructor was.
Ski instructing is a profession like any other. A good ski instructor goes through lots of training and spends years cultivating their skill. If you truly want a loved one to share your passion for this exhilarating sport, sign them up for a lesson, and turn them over to the professionals. Don’t follow them or hang around watching their lesson. This only distracts them and the rest of the class. Tell them to have fun, go skiing and meet them at the end of the day.
You’ll know you made the right choice by the big smile on their face at the end of the day.
