Completing my ski instructor certification

Just over fifty years ago, I finally got my full French ski instructor certification after a four week training session in Chamonix, France. Between the auxiliary diploma and the national diploma, I spent €2 200 in today’s Euros. Today, the total cost ranges from €15,000 to €25,000 for the entire program (which lasts, on average, 4 to 6 years). 

Since these days, the training of instructors at the École Nationale de ski et d’alpinisme (ENSA) has undergone a profound transformation, evolving from a traditional mountain craft into a highly qualified profession in sports education. First, the educational background and prerequisites changed enormously. 

In the 1970s, training was accessible to candidates with only a minimal level of formal schooling. The top level of certification was perceived primarily as a validation of technical proficiency. Many instructors were "locals", working as farmers, small business employees or tradespeople during the summer months, for whom skiing was a natural skill rather than the result of a formal scholarly training. 

Today, although no university degree is required to enroll, the complexity of the theoretical examinations (anatomy, physiology, theory of skiing, and the legal aspect of the job demands a level of comprehension equivalent to that of at least a high school diploma or higher. The curriculum is now integrated into the LMD system (Bachelor’s-Master’s-Doctorate) in terms of training credits, reflecting the profession's increased sophistication. Then comes the proficiency in foreign languages. 

Back in the 1970s, language proficiency was at best rudimentary and often limited to a few key phrases used to run a lesson (like the comical "Bend your knees," "Follow me", “Fifty Dollars please”. Instruction was essentially visual and based on imitation. Today’s knowing and mastering a foreign language has become a key element of the profession. The final examination (comprising the “Eurotest” and a specific language proficiency test) requires genuine mastery. 

Given the internationalization of the clientele, an instructor must often juggle English (which is mandatory) and frequently a second language—such as Russian, Dutch, or Portuguese—in order to explain complex technical concepts and ensure safety. 

Then comes what I always felt was a huge weakness in the French curriculum, technical and pedagogical skills. In my days, the primary emphasis was placed on the "straight run" and the “Christiania” turn. The teaching approach was directive and standardized: the instructor demonstrated, and the student replicated. Safety was managed in a more intuitive, less formalized manner. 

Today, however, the advent of the shaped skis has revolutionized instruction with more emphasis on carved instead of skidded turns. In terms of pedagogy, differentiated instruction is now employed in which the instructor adapts to the student's psychology, energy levels, and personal goals. In addition, today’s instructors are trained not only in alpine skiing but also in snowboarding, telemark skiing, cross-country skiing, and adaptive skiing. 

Finally, safety is no longer taken for granted. In the 70s, knowledge of the mountain environment was empirical, passed down by seasoned veterans. Off-piste skiing was less regulated, and rescue tools (such as avalanche transceivers) were scarce. Today, the instructor’s training includes advanced courses in snow science, meteorology, and avalanche risk management. The proper use of avalanche transceivers (DVA), probes, and shovels is subject to rigorous examination. 

So, as you can read a quantum leap in skills is what’s offered to skiers who need or want ski instruction!

The way we learn from books (Part Two)

It’s actually quite common to enjoy a book like Maya Shankar’s “The Other Side of Change” yet walk away feeling as if nothing stuck. And that “zero‑takeaway” sensation is not my failure of comprehension, but rather a clue about the way my mind processes ideas. 

Let’s try to explore that issue of style of communication, and then offer a more powerful way to think — and debate — the aftermath of change. There is no framework in the stories that were offered to me in that book, still it was pleasant to read, emotionally touching, but hard to retrieve and cognitively slippery. I must be someone who thrives on frameworks, systems, and meaning‑making. 

A book that doesn’t offer those explicitly typically never leaves a strong imprint in me. To begin with, the topic (change) is too universal When a book describes something we’ve lived deeply — and many of us have lived a life full of reinvention, adaptation, and resilience — the ideas can feel like things we already know intuitively. 

As a result, our mind goes: “Yes, yes, I’ve lived this. Nothing new here.” True, familiarity reduces memorability. Another way to look at how books impact our minds is that without friction there is no retention. We all tend to remember ideas that challenge us, provoke us, or contradict our assumptions. When the tone of a book is gentle, validating, and non‑confrontational, it doesn’t push back against your worldview and provoke us to pay attention. 

We could say that pleasant reading creates almost no cognitive tension and doesn’t make much of an imprint on us. A book too easy to read works more like a reflection and less as a mind-opening tool. In that particular subject of “Change”, a book should be philosophical (why change matters), psychological (how change affects identity) and practical (how to navigate change). 

That book covered these two first points but left me hoping for the third one. In a next blog, we’ll return to the subject of that book and this time, explore how to actually debate the aftermath of change.

The way we learn from books (Part One)

I just finished reading “The other side of change”, a book by cognitive scientist Maya Shankar that explores how major, unexpected life disruptions can lead to profound personal transformation, blending personal stories with scientific research to offer a guide for navigating upheaval and finding new meaning and potential within ourselves. 

Shankar, host of the “A Slight Change of Plans” podcast, uses narratives of people facing events like job loss, illness, or relationship endings to illustrate universal lessons about resilience, identity, and growth, encouraging readers to see change as an opportunity for reimagining who they can be. 

I enjoyed reading the book, but must admit that its contents glided on me like water over ice. The book was experiential, not instructional as the author wrote it in a reflective, narrative style. It’s warm, empathetic, and story‑driven but not prescriptive. 

My brain brain enjoyed the flow but didn’t get any clear “hooks” to store. Has this ever happened to you? This aspect of book retention is a subject I need to dig a bit deeper into, and report my findings to you, so expect that subject to populate my next blog…

Our first and only apartment

Fifty years ago, the day after we got married, both my spouse and I drove to Nevers, on the Loire river, smack in the center of France, to begin my new job as product manager for Look bindings. 

At first, we rented a house in nearby Challuy and the following month we purchased a small, 393 square foot apartment right in the heart of Nevers, on a 3rd floor in a building that must be harking back at least to the 16th century. 

The stone steps were so used up that they were carved out under long and heavy foot traffic like those of the old castle, there was a musky, old smell in the air and we had more difficulties climbing to the third level than we would have today, which says a lot about our physical shape in these days. 

We parked our Citroën Dyane 6, in the street just below. Historic charm certainly has its limits and we sure didn’t enjoy living in Nevers, a small town that went from 75,000 to around 65,000 people today, nor did I enjoy my job with the company, so I resigned and we sold the apartment when we left Nevers. 

Between the acquisition cost, some major improvements (a new roof) and factoring what would have been the cost of renting a place for 14 months, we even managed to make some money... 

Today, our apartment’s interior has been markedly improved from when we had it, but according to Booking.com’s guest comments the funny smell still lingers in the staircase!

Moon shot or Iran war?

As we were watching the launch of Artemis II on Wednesday, my wife asked me how much money this jaunt around the moon would cost the US taxpayers, when we have so many unmet other priorities. Before I go any further, please remember that we’re talking about money the United States doesn't have and will pile up onto our soon-to-be $40 trillion debt. 

The answer is over $4 billion a ride. If we look at the four missions from I to IV, they’ll amount to some $16.4 billion based on NASA’s Inspector General estimate. This figure reflects per‑mission operating cost (SLS + Orion + ground systems) and does not include the massive development costs of the Artemis program as a whole. 

Overall, the total cost, with each mission should amount to about $100 billion if we were to stay on budget. Artemis is essentially rebuilding the entire US deep‑space exploration stack from scratch and including new heavy‑lift rockets (SLS), a deep‑space crew vehicle (Orion), Lunar infrastructure (Gateway, landers), new ground systems and long‑term lunar operations planning. 

As always is the case in these projects, expect the budgeted $93 billion to cost Americans well over $100 billion… 

Now we can contrast that with the war in Iran, where the “excursion” as Trump likes to call his belligerent action, has already cost us $30 to $40 billion depending on the estimates (not factoring the heavy economic consequences worldwide), not including 3 to 5,000 dead and property damage on the Iranian side, and it’s far from over. 

So when I compare these two expenditures, I’d take space exploration any day if I had to choose between this and an unnecessary war.

What really makes us successful ?

If someone had asked me that question, I would have said “Passion” for something that led me into a lifelong activity propelling me to success, but I recently read an article in Inc. magazine that opened my eyes on that subject. According to the piece I read, it wasn’t a trait that traditionally gets the spotlight like creativity, innovation, culture or vision, yet it was often the difference-maker. 

At least the late Steve Jobs thought so. He was not romanticizing resilience. He knew what it meant to keep going when things were bad, like after being fired from Apple, starting over with NeXT, then returning to build one of the most valuable companies in the world. His point wasn’t that talent, timing, or product don’t matter. Without persistence, none of those advantages can come to fruition.

It makes me think of Sisyphus who had to push that boulder up the hill to fully seize the concept of perseverance. We need to get into our heads that failures and setbacks don’t define us; they refine us. The best leaders don’t just move on after getting knocked to the ground; they bounce back and process to dissect what went wrong, what’s still worth pursuing, and what needs to change. That means gathering feedback and data from various sources. 

For example, we can all learn from an idea or an endeavor that flops as it reveals what’s wrong with it. It often exposes gaps in preparation or execution. If we are capable of treating setbacks as feedback systems, we’ll turn dead ends into stepping stones. We just need to remember that every failure always reveals to us some reasons for happening. Perseverance is easier if we’re committed to the reason why we pursue certain dreams. 

Of course, perseverance doesn’t mean charging ahead with a bad idea. It means picking a worthwhile goal and staying committed to it while being flexible in the ways we reach it. If our strategy isn’t working, simply adjust the plan without abandoning the vision. Studies on grit show us that sustained passion and perseverance over time are stronger predictors of success than IQ or talent alone. In retrospect, if I had valued persistence throughout my life, I would have gone much farther, but realizing how important it was came likes small crumbs of wisdom each time I missed a step. 

With enough failures that I can admit today, I finally got it. The leaders who refuse to quit, who show up one more time after setbacks, are the ones who ultimately cross the finish line. When we’re facing a day, week or an extended period of bad news, let’s ask ourselves: “Are we at a dead end, or is it just the natural friction of progress?” Before tossing in the towel, let’s give perseverance another chance. It might be the very thing that separates us from the rest.

Lessons learned from another ski season…

Another ski season is now over, so it’s time to conduct the annual debriefing and find out what I learned as a skier and more importantly as a human being through the turns I’ve made. 

This season stood out for its lack of snow and its subsequent shortness all over the Western US. That’s mostly why skiing looked to be more of a chore than a thrilling experience, but still, I forced myself to go and discover new ways to have fun in a universe of scarcity and keep on learning new things and skills by “pushing the envelope” in the direction of doing “difficult things”. 

When advanced skiers were skiing like beginners as the conditions got extremely tough, I did my very best to stay graceful and nimble on my pair of boards and make something out of nothing, or if you prefer “turning lemons into lemonade”. I learned a few new tricks like using the edge of a run creatively to work my way down an overcrowded spot by passing folks in places they wouldn’t go, using speed defensively and also cutting my way into slush, ice or other heavy types of snow. 

In more than one way I discovered adaptation this season. First, to my advancing age, skiing perhaps less in terms of hours and vertical, but much more efficiently in the ways I expanded my energy into my skiing, in restraining my temerity and also avoiding potentially bad situations which resulted in almost no fall except for one single one in a terrible mogul, without any negative outcome. I learned to do more with less and return home satisfied. 

On the subject of satisfaction, I loved my new Nordica rear-entry boots, although they weren’t perfect but still made a huge difference in getting in and out of them. A few things should be done to them to tweak them into greater perfection, but that will be for another time. There was also the comfort provided by the new covered parking garage at the Canyons Village that made struggling into mud a thing of the past. 

At 78, I learned more about advancing in age and accepting change, particularly when some younger and stronger skiers happened to pass me and leave me in the dust. I was still happy with myself and saw one door closing as another one opened up. Overall and in spite of some weaker muscles I did all the difficult skiing I used to do in previous years and I was pleased with my 72nd winter season. I also was grateful to have done what so many my age, and even younger, can no longer do. 

I’m aiming at doing much, much better next year, snow and weather helping!