Are You a “ZOOMy?”
Ed Downs
COVID is tapering off and many of us are shedding our mask for the reality of facing life with a smile that can be seen. Note the stats that point to a dramatic increase in lip stick, teeth whiteners and make-up sales. Yep, for many, 2020 became “the year of he masks,” with most concerned about their health, but many taking a vacation from concerns regarding appearance. But perhaps one of the most interesting sides of the pandemic is that many of us became “ZOOMies.” Please allow this old instructor to muse on the experience of ZOOM from the standpoint of aviation training… with a few personal views thrown in just for fun.
Now, for a moment of honesty. While this writer admires and participates in high levels of technology, using my computer as a toy or excuse for avoiding real social contact with both humanoids and critters (although the occasional “cat video” is worth a giggle or two) is not part of my daily activities. For me, trying to learn things through computer courses is the recipe for immediate sleep, often helped along by presenters that read slides and exude all the excitement of watching grass grow. Perhaps the most odious confession this writer can make is that I have never played a computer flying game… just too dull when compared to the real thing. Real cross-winds and thunderstorms are far more exciting. To this writer, a computer is just a tool with all the fun and personality of a flat blade screwdriver.
As a long-time CFI, working with hundreds of students each year in both flight training and a great deal of “in person” ground training, one can only imagine the horror that filled the room when the good folks I teach classes for, Aviation Seminars, asked that I begin teaching ZOOM classes, as the pandemic caught hold in early 2020. Live classes were gone. The ability to shake hands, tell jokes, catch that “deer in the headlights” look that tells you a piece of vital information has missed its mark, was gone. The fun of waving your arms to emphasize a point, and most off all, the energy that students learning new information for the first time radiate into the room, was gone “Not a problem” said the boss, “ZOOM is just like a live class.” And with those optimistic words, this “live stage” instructor became a ZOOMy, complete with a training class that would teach all I needed to know about using this perceived replacement to live teaching.
Having been briefed on the details of setting up a ZOOM account and figuring out the log-on scheme, it only took about an hour to get my rural web connection (satellite, with all the speed and sophistication of a Cessna 150) in play and then sit through a ZOOM class, offered by a knowledgeable instructor who found safety in reading the slide, with no comment, and then moving on. It seems that I am not alone in this experience. In spite of this training, I manage to knock everybody offline at least once in every presentation. Maybe I should play with computers more?
A recent news program showed some kids protesting the fact that they could not return to classroom instruction. A good-humored protest; one kid was holding up a sign which read, “I Hate ZOOM,” a sentiment I was learning to appreciate. I am caused to wonder how many of our readers have pursued their original pilot certificate or perhaps a new rating by sitting through a ZOOM presentation. Fortunately, the recipient of ZOOM training has some options. Students can participate in the class, asking questions and opening discussions, but from this instructor’s experience, this is not often the case. Having the magic of a “mute” function and the ability to turn off the video, gives many students the opportunity to mentally “punch out,” leaving the instructor to wonder if they are even in the room. Now, muting can make sense, as barking dogs and yelling kids can be distracting for all participants. At least, the video allows all to catch the facial expressions that clearly say, “do I really have to know this stuff?” With the video on, one occasionally catches the fun of a family member walking into the room in their underwear (not making this up), dogs jumping into the learner’s lap and, of course, the ever present “cat on the keyboard.” I now realize that the world-wide-web was created by cats, as a tool in taking over the planet! Even a failure to mute can include the instructor (and other students) in a “private” family conversation during a break or share yelling at a kid “I told you to feed the dog!” Most fun is overhearing comments about the instruction being given. Why will students ask questions amongst themselves, but not directly to the instructor? Are we to be feared? When teaching in a class environment, one gets to know the individual, see their expressions, and encourage a two-way learning process. The best case ZOOM class can do almost the same, but there are those who remain muted with the video off throughout the entire presentation. I feel sorry for those folks, they are missing out on a lot.
From an instructing standpoint, the most difficult part of teaching on ZOOM is the need to sit, nearly motionless, for eight to ten hours (camera on time) for two days without the ability to move your head more than a few inches. One must simply talk into a light on the computer, showing the enthusiasm that would normally take the form of many body movements by using only facial and vocal expressions to make a point. This can be made even more difficult when all the students on the other end of the web are muted and have video turned off. Of course, there is some fun. This writer often uses the conference room at my local airport (coming to you from the palm-lined shores of Cushing, Oklahoma) to get a good web connection. This room can be accessed by others, some of whom (my DPE brother for one) will intentionally try to distract me, out of camera range. I must admit, my skill in hurling a water bottle the length of the room, without changing my screen image, has improved markedly. On one occasion, a ZOOM class was conducted from my ranch office, surroundings that are a bit ragged around the edges. Without realizing it, my ranch six-gun (always carried due to predators and deadly snakes) was hanging on the wall behind me, visible on screen. One student became quite upset, believing I was making a political statement. Trust me, having treated two snake bites, a Cotton Mouth snake treats all living things with great equity! One soon learns the camera sees all!
2020 was a tough year, and much of that has continued, with ZOOM classes continuing into the future. Like them or not, one cannot help but be pleased with how fast our aviation industry adapted to the circumstances at hand. But isn’t that what we aviators are taught to do? In Aeronautical Decision Making (ADM) there is a something called the DECIDE model, which goes something like this.
· Detect that a change has occurred
· Estimate the need to react to that change
· Choose a desirable outcome
· Identify actions that achieve the outcome
· Do the actions
· Evaluate the effect of the actions
And this is what our industry did. We acknowledged the challenges that lay ahead and approached them head on, using technology tempered by common sense. ZOOM, like it or hate it, has taken up the slack and kept training going. While ZOOM classes are here to stay, this writer hopes that the one-on-one personal touch that live classrooms provide will creep back into the norm. It is just a lot more fun to talk behind the instructor’s back, without the worry that the mike is on!
