Beware of Aviation ‘Tribal Knowledge’

At the risk of sounding alarmist, I will not be surprised if there is a midair attributed to the "teardrop entry." There are too many pilot-imposed variations out there right now, many attributed to “tribal knowledge” of how to do the entry into the pattern.

While no one really wants any more regulations, some of us would really like to get something on the record to standardize this approach, because what we have now is the dreaded tribal knowledge. 

How far out from the runway should we be before we initiate the turn? Should we be at pattern altitude and downwind speed like we are supposed to be when on the 45? Can we get this in writing—like in Chapter 3: Airport Operations in the Aeronautical Information Manual please? I realize the AIM is “not regulatory in nature,” but I for one would like something other than word of mouth as a source. 

Tribal knowledge, which is defined as that shared or known within an "in-group" of people, but not known outside of it. It can be within a workplace, club, or academic world.

Tribal knowledge, as a rule, is often institutional memory and lacks documentation. It is passed down often by word of mouth. In the flight training world, it often manifests as variations on how to teach—and, therefore, perform—in-flight maneuvers. For the student pilot, it's often a source of frustration when a new-to-them CFI forces them to relearn procedures for maneuvers because the instructor wants them to do it a certain way. They might not be able to explain why to the flight student, instead offering tepid excuses, such as "that's how we did it at (insert name of another flight school)."

Aviation is rife with it. If an explanation begins with "My CFI told me…," "A buddy of mine..," or "A guy I know…," these phrases scream tribal knowledge. Be skeptical.

With the tremendous turnover at flight schools—both Part 61 and 141—it can be difficult to standardize instruction. It's often taught through on-the-job training or word of mouth. Often no one seems to have the time or perhaps desire to write down these procedures for the instructors or the learners. There are commercially prepared manuals for this—ASA has them for both high-wing and low-wing aircraft. All that is needed is to plug in the power settings that work the best for the aircraft being flown. 

Flight training is a business, which means the emphasis is on getting airplanes in the air because that is how they generate revenue. Coupled with the relatively short instructional career of many CFIs who are using the job to build their hours for other jobs, there may not be a big push to adopt standardization. This may especially be the case at Part 61 schools that do not require the use of a syllabus and CFI standardization as the FAA-approved Part 141 schools do.

And then there is the challenge of getting the CFIs to use the standardized methods. I found it disturbing when I pulled out the private pilot syllabus for use with a learner, and another CFI, a relative new hire who acquired his certificate at an accelerated program let out a snort and told me, "No one uses that," although the school was a Part 141 operation.

At a Part 61 school a syllabus is not required, and you often find CFIs who teach there repeating the methods used to train them, as in instructing through a series of maneuvers that would be required to pass the check ride.

As a student pilot you don't know what you don't know, and many learners don't have a reason to question what they are being taught. 

Sometimes the CFI is unsure of what they need to teach the learner before they solo them, because they were never taught how to use a syllabus or the FAR/AIM to make sure the learner has the information and experience they need to be successful. 

Pro tip: Students, protect yourself. Look up solo requirements under cFAR 61.87, and while you are there, look up knowledge and experience requirements for the certificate you seek.

If you go against tribal knowledge and custom, there can be blowback. I learned this when my students used a lanyard to attach the aircraft checklist to their kneeboards. I started doing this after I dropped the checklist during a solo cross-country flight and had to do an advanced yoga pose to get it off the floor of the cockpit. This particular airplane didn't have any side pouches for the checklist. The lanyard uses a clip that is easy to disengage. 

My students saw what I was doing and adopted it. I started issuing lengths of paracord for the lanyard. Apparently this practice ruffled the feathers of some of my coworkers who complained about it to the chief CFI, who told me, “We don’t do that here,” and when I asked what was wrong with the practice for cockpit organization and safety, I was told again, “We don’t do that here."

Several of my students told me they continued the practice clandestinely, and one who went on to fly a business jet pre-EFB informed me the practice was most helpful as there were no side pouches for storage in the cockpit. 

Tribal knowledge can be shared for generations, and sometimes, it is downright amusing when you trace the root of it. As an example, I offer an experience from my college days where the rookies in the Humboldt State University Marching Lumberjack Band were required to show up for each road trip with 35 cents and an apple. It seemed benign enough and quirky enough for a group that dressed like loggers and played "Rubber Ducky" as the finale at all the gigs. We were told it was a tradition—yet no one knew where it came from, or why it was 35 cents and an apple.

Fast-forward to the band reunion in 2018. The group was 50 years old, and one of the founding members shared the story. The band was on a road trip to Southern California in the winter for a basketball game road trip. It was a two-day event, and private cars were used to transport band members.

They were already underway on Highway 101 when a landslide blocked the road. State patrol put detours in place and, to quote the band member who shared the story, they were being sent "all over creation." This added to the length of the trip and increased the fuel costs.

"We need gas money!" the driver told the occupants of the car. Pockets were reached into. Wallets were opened. Backpacks were unzipped and searches were done for change. The only one who did not readily supply any cash was a rookie, who when asked if he had anything to contribute eagerly announced, "I have 35 cents and an apple." Thus the tradition was born.