by: Quinn Hathaway

Media Editor

Picture this: a child who can barely walk, strapped into tiny planks of wood, bundled up in seemingly endless layers, and most likely crying. Then, all you have to do is multiply by six, and there you go: the average ski school lesson. 

People love skiing; they travel the world in search of the best snow, terrain, and apres. And I will admit, it is easier to learn when you are younger. However, what I do not quite understand is the positive experience for the child. This may seem dramatic to a non-ski-school kid (yes, we can tell if you had a private instructor), so let me walk you through the true, unedited version of a day in ski school.

No matter what age you start, the day always begins at the lodge. The group assembles slowly, in various states of readiness. Some kids arrive completely ready, sans skis, while others arrive in pajamas. The starting time of the lesson rolls around and…keeps rolling, because no ski school lesson has ever started on time. There are always one to three kids wailing, a chorus of “My boots are too tight,” “Why can’t I have poles,” and “I’m cold.” The parents hover anxiously, waiting to abandon their child and go carve the double black diamonds on the backside.

After what seems like hours, the group finally hits the slopes. And “hits” is literal. From the time the kids touch the snow to the second the group goes in for lunch, there’s at least one child on the ground. The whole time. For the sake of this article, I picked a lesson for green circle-level beginners, so in addition to skiing, there is the challenge of the chairlift. Congratulations to the people who wind up on the lift, because there is a 90% chance the group will wipe out getting on, getting off, or both. Next, the descent: the classic S-shaped line forms behind the instructor, with immediate complaints about who gets to be first. The S-shape is great for practicing wide turns, but horrible for the group of kids who, despite their parents all selecting “beginner” on the lesson form, have a wide range of abilities.

There is always a kid who is an entire level above everyone else, and one child who has never seen a pair of skis before. Regardless, the traditional S persists, with the group making it five-foot intervals before one of the tiny tots wipes out. Lunch time is also a disaster, as the provided food is never satisfactory. Someone doesn’t like mac’n’cheese, someone needs more, someone dropped theirs on the ground. Lunch may be a break from the slopes, but not a break from the difficulties. 

After lunch is over, it is time to head back out. The next three hours are a repeat of the first three. By the end of the day, everyone is done with skiing, possibly forever, and the instructor definitely mutters something, audibly, about “rugrats.” Regardless, the parents are happy, despite their tantrumming child. Ready for tomorrow’s lesson?