Tomorrow I’ll grab my stuff and jump onto a little airplane for an hour flight through some very pretty mountains to my new home, Nondalton. The four days that follow will be no less then sheer madness, and on the fifth day will be the wildest, funnest, and craziest thing we teachers go through: the first day of school!

I’m pretty sure the whole ‘unpacking & settling in’ thing is going to have to wait for labor day.

So far I have been amazed by how wonderful this district is. These folks know how it’s done and I’m honored (and..frankly..moderately trepidated!) to be a part of their team. I am left awe-struck time after time at the deeply rooted care and devotion exhibited by all staff I encounter–teachers, admins, ed. support, business–and championed by the superintendent. It’s incredible. This is a good, good place to be.

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Now, on flying! I just finished an absolutely excellent book about flying, “The Thinking Pilot’s Flight Manual.” I highly recommend it–it’s the best stuff I have read thus far in my (short) aviation career. Here are a few notes from the lighthearted-but-poignant last section, a compilation of truths and opinions all come by the hard way:

The weather is not going to get better in the next 5 miles. 

One close encounter with a tower or a set of power lines appearing out of the haze or fog when scud-running, or going below minimums on an instrument approach, will give you years of the most hideously vivid nightmares  you can imagine. 

Tornadoes really are caused by mobile homes. In hot, muggy weather, be cautious of airports near mobile home parks.

When making a decision regarding weather, an effective tool is to ask oneself if this might lead to looking stupid in the NTSB report.

Departing with one component of a redundant system out of service will make the other one fail in flight.

Everyone looks silly wearing a headset.

Males over age thirty look ridiculous dressed in military flight suits when near a civilian airplane. The effect is amplified if the pilot in question has a pot belly. If he has any patches or wings on the jumpsuit, he is an embarrassment to the airplane, and there is a good chance it is secretly laughing at him.

A pilot with any poetry in his or her soul knows that it is always appropriate to quietly thank the airplane for a flight after putting it away. In fact, some assert that those who do not do so may have no soul, and should not be allowed in the sky.

The cliche is depressingly true: the chances of making a superb landing are inversely proportional to the number of people watching.

The rainbow around your airplane’s shadow on a cloud is called a glory. The first time you see one, the name will make eminent sense.

There is nothing more beautiful than this world when viewed from aloft.