14
ROOKIE INSTRUCTOR
All names have been changed (so I don’t lose my instructors license!).
DAY 1 Having taught on dry slopes before, this is my first time teaching on snow. Seems I’m the only Megaski instructor virgin. I’m feeling the nerves. A breakfast email arrives with my school group info. There will be ten of them… beginners as expected. 8 girls, 2 boys. 14/15 yr olds. TEN OF THEM! How long will it take to remember TEN names? Rookies are lobbed in at the deep end and have to get their heads around the layout of the resort tout-seul. My velcro name badge won’t stick on my jacket. I’m sweating. It dawns on me that this had been a bad idea. But suddenly I’m there, in front of them. Except, all is not well. One of them is vomiting. A teacher asks if Walker (the green looking one) can come up with us anyway? Well, if he can stop vomiting, perhaps. Zara has strapped on a face mask and along with the other girls, isn’t keen on skiing with Walker – not while he’s throwing up. I’m with them on that. He is hit by a wave of nausea and staggers back to the meeting point where he slumps down on the snow and wretches. I suggest that Walker should sit out until he’s recovered- we don’t want everyone getting norovirus. Finally we begin, with just 45 minutes until the lunch break. First up is learning to put skis on. It’s so warm everyone has balls of snow under their boots. No one can get their skis on. I’m grovelling around on the ground helping to scrape off the snow. After 10 mins of faffing, tripping over and grabbing each other, 7 girls and one boy each have one ski on. We scoot across the snow and see how it feels. That goes ok. Now both skis on. A bit of sliding... then
carnage. Students on the deck everywhere; sliding into the crash mat, sliding backwards, sliding into other groups. It’s not a good start. Perhaps I missed the bit about keeping the skis pointing across the slope. Emily keeps sliding off backwards. She seems a bright kid and I feel sure that at some point she’ll rejoin us from the crash barrier that she keeps reversing into. In the afternoon things move on swiftly. They’re soon performing proficient glides, ploughs and stops. 1530h and the first day is over. It’s been a good start. Jubilantly, I hand them back to their teachers. Success; no one dead, injured or lost. I’m exhausted. DAY 2 After lunch, everyone is feeling confident; they’re desperate to move on. The nursery plateau is now rammed with groups and it’s hard to move. I take the executive decision to head to their first real slope. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, during the morning, the piste surface has been skied away leaving sheet ice underneath. We clip in and set off. It’s a total disaster; they all turn into Bambis – sliding in every direction; hurtling down, yelling. Within seconds they are splattered across the piste like starfish. As each one slithers to a halt, they sit up, take their bloody skis off and crawl on hands and knees to the edge of the slope. They’ve now got huge balls of snow stuck to their boots and can’t get their skis back on; an exasperating scenario which repeats over and over. I’m charging from one stricken starfish to the next, imploring each to keep their skis on. No one is listening anymore. Phoebe is the first to chuck her toys out of the pram and refuses to put her skis back on. She bursts into tears; she hates skiing. After a lengthy negotiation, she acquiesces and the skis are back on. I park Phoebe and rush off to rescue the others. Ewan has spun off miles away and is lying on his back near the side of the slope; Kirstee is spinning slowly round and round; Emily is sitting down, helmet off, complaining of a
