Be Brave, Be Kind, and Fly High

By Cameron Van

When you see powerful jets soaring across the sky, it’s hard to envision that you have any place up there with them. To me, a small-town kid from Louisiana, that has always been the challenge of flight. My name is Cameron Van. I’m a senior in Louisiana Tech University’s Professional Aviation program, soon to enter commercial pilot training, and this is the story of my transition from small beginnings to big skies.

In the little town where I was raised, there was hardly any room for adventure or discovery. As kids, what we saw on TV is all we knew about the world. And growing up, many of us had never even truly seen an airplane. Being the rare spectacle that they were, I still vividly remember my first glimpse into the elusive world of aviation.

It was 2015. Terrorists had just placed themselves upon the global stage by striking Paris, and it seemed as if the world was desperate for some form of action. The night following the attacks, I remember watching on TV as two French fighters thundered off into the void of night with bombs strapped underneath their wings. It’s as if, within the roar of those engines, I heard the anger and conviction of the entire French people. I knew their target, and I knew that millions were pinning their faith upon the change that these two jets would begin. In that moment, watching those fighters rumble into the uncertain, I was utterly and unexplainably captivated.

Over the course of my high school career, my fascination with this event quickly developed into a maddening obsession with military aviation. I was a small-town kid with little world experience immersed in the stories of daring, adventurous pilots who pushed the limits of life. I found great meaning in the legacy of men and women who wielded their indomitable ambition to enact progress. Hawker Typhoons over France… Vought Corsairs soaring across the Pacific… The greatest generation of aviators filled my imagination to the brim day after day. I wondered in the back of my mind if someone like me was worthy to follow in the footsteps of legends like them. Sure enough, some fateful encounters helped push me towards my answer. Around this time, I met Mrs. Stewart—a well-beloved schoolteacher who originates from a long line of military aviators. In high school, her generous enthusiasm and encouragement catalyzed my initial desire for flight training. In exploration of that possibility, I later found the local Chennault Aviation and Military Museum, whose halls—decorated with the incredible stories of history’s aviators—made me question the limits of what was possible in my own story.

By junior year, I worked up the courage to interview for my dream flight school at Louisiana Tech University–and much to my surprise, I was offered a slot! But it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. In the meeting, the department head explained to me the enormous costs of flight training. My shock and disappointment were evident. “If you want a slot in our program, you’ve got it”—he said—”but I want you to be sure… Do you want this?” I was torn. I knew I couldn’t meet the financial demands of the program, but gosh... I still wanted this more than anything. We both agreed to revisit this decision after I put some further thought into it. As I walked outside with the sun descending in the distance, I saw a Cessna Skyhawk fly overhead. “I wonder if that could be me one day,” I thought.

While undergoing this internal debate, I was given a scholarship for my merits in military aviation by the National WWII Museum to study in France’s Normandy region. Only one other student, named Rie, was selected for this honor alongside me. Day after day, we hopped across Normandy exploring the history in a journey that we couldn’t believe. In retrospect, such a trip contained many important ‘firsts’ for me too. It was my first time seeing such icons of history, like the Hawker Typhoon or P-47 Thunderbolt, in person. But it was also my first encounter with someone— my friend Rie—who possessed such a contagious enthusiasm for both people and the world. I fell in love with Rie’s perspectives on exploration and life. Being exposed to such heightened appreciation for the world brought to me a new drive to eventually fly and explore it for myself. On the last day of our journey, French fighters flew directly over us, low enough for me to see the separate panels of the airframe. I recognized these aircraft. They were the same type of fighters that I had seen in that dramatic video all those years ago. Feeling the excitement in my heart as they thundered off into the horizon, I knew that I wanted to fly—that I wanted to be worthy—and that I wanted to make it all work somehow.

I returned to Louisiana in 2018 for my senior year overboiling with ambition. My ceaseless reflections of France made me dead-set on defeating the financial goliath of flight school. There was no certainty to it, but like the pilots that I read extensively about, I decided to take a chance and trust in myself. In the following months, I told the department head of Professional Aviation to expect me for the new class. That year, I studied hard, emerged as a valedictorian of my high school, and secured a scholarship that would temporarily keep me afloat.

I joined the ranks of Louisiana Tech’s pilots in 2019, and I still remember that magical moment of stepping out onto the ramp for the first time: Imagine an airport booming with activity. Before you, a sea of aircraft decorated in the insignias and colors that define us at Louisiana Tech. All around, planes are roaring to life, taxing out to the runway, or landing—and you can do nothing but gawk in amazement. This was just the beginning for me. My joining into the world of aviation was nothing short of magical. Nevertheless, the pressure was still on to prove myself.

As the months passed, I still struggled with an unshakeable case of imposter syndrome. Compared to many of my peers, my training progression was not as steep, and I felt alienated having not come from a family of pilots. To top it off, the growing financial weight of training threatened to put an end to my dream. Even as I was nearing my private pilot certification, I wondered if I—a smalltown kid with no inherent belonging to the world of aviation—truly had a place up there in the sky.

As these doubts reached their maximum pressure, the pandemic struck and gave me some isolation to think. Financially, academically, and emotionally, it seemed to me that I was at the end of my dream. But in some part, I suppose I still believed in the magic of life that I had found in France. I visited Rie in a lull in the pandemic and, yet again, through my friend’s company discovered an angle of the world that overfilled me with love and ambition. “Be brave, be kind, and fly high,” I wrote to myself endlessly. Against the crushing odds, I concluded that I wanted to be a pilot that could one day explore the world. With dreams as big as my own, I knew I had no room in my heart to question my worthiness or capabilities. It was just a matter of diving in.

As I resumed my training, I worked harder in class to make room for a full-time job that could support me through flight school. I no longer focused on where I was in life, but instead, focused on where I could be. In the thick of it all, the pressure was on to push forward any throttle left in me. And so I did, firewalling my way onwards to the end of my cloudy situation where I knew there was a sunset. Desperately, I wanted to meet it.

At the time of this writing, I’m a 4.0 GPA senior readying to embrace the challenges of commercial pilot training. I am far from the endgame, but that never stops me from looking back to appreciate the journey, where I started as a naïve kid scouring the internet for tales of brave pilots. Even in reflection, I don’t find myself particularly incredible. Instead, I think you could call me lucky, as each step of this adventure has been catalyzed by some incredible people in my life. I owe everything to my parents, Mrs. Stewart, and the Chennault Aviation Museum—for their undying support, to Rie—for being the most inspiring friend to ever live, to the department of Professional Aviation—for welcoming me warmly into their family, and to my flight instructor Jared—who has always possessed boundless care and patience for his students. It would be impossible to imagine any lift under these wings without these incredible people to propel me forward.

When you see powerful jets soaring across the sky, it’s hard to envision that you have any place up there with them. But as I’ve learned, the sky is for the adventurous, the determined, and for those that take a chance on life—all of which are traits that only we control for ourselves. In my journey, I have only ever persevered by carrying the love of the world in my heart. Regardless of the stage you’re in right now, I hope you can read my story and believe in the power of life and, most importantly, yourself. There are grand adventures hiding around the corner for all of us. And so, I urge you: Be brave, be kind, and fly high.