Sometime in the 1990s when I was still a ski instructor at Mount Spokane, I was assigned what may have been my most fun class. Standing in front of me one Saturday morning were seven or eight very eager eight-, nine-, and ten-year-old boys and girls.

As I normally did, I first took them up the beginner hill chair and watched them ski back down since they all said this wasn’t the first time they had been skiing. They demonstrated varying levels of ability but were fairly close, so after a second trip on the beginner hill I ushered them onto Chair 3, which took us two-thirds the way up the mountain. The slopes back down were intermediate level, but allowed much longer and varied terrain. Some of them had been up there before but a couple hadn’t. I wondered how they would fare, but my worries quickly disappeared. They were ready and eager to go.

As usual with kids, I saw right away that standing and explaining wasn’t going to work with this group. The trick was to keep moving while introducing new skiing techniques and varying slope and snow-surface conditions. Sometimes I had them follow single file behind me while I skied large turns—or sometimes small turns or quick turns or straight runs or quick stops. I led over bumps, across the side hill, or on flatter terrain that required them to skate to keep up. Then I would have each one take turns leading. They were all eager to be the leader. All this was so they would learn to ski anywhere at different speeds without thinking, just experiencing. 

After the first couple of trips down from the top of Chair 3, I took them back to the beginner slope and had them ski at their own pace to the bottom. This was like a fire drill, hell-bent for leather. I then would have them look back up to where they had skied down and asked what do you think? Ski down here or up there? Of course, I knew the answer. 

This continued on each of the following three Saturdays, and by the last lesson they had experienced skiing most runs on all five chairlifts and had skied a lot of miles. We all had fun.

On one trip to the very top of the mountain, I had the students take their skis off and we hiked the 200-300 feet to the stone house on the very top that was built in the 1930s. There was a large accumulation of snow up there and directly below the structure on the east side was a very steep, snow-covered boulder field that was blanketed with untouched fluffy powder. On a whim I jumped over the edge and slid down about 50-70 feet on my backside. When I stopped, I looked up just in time to be covered in snow and kids sliding down on top of me. Sometimes it is really fun being a kid again.

On the afternoon of the last lesson package it was customary for the ski school to have all the classes meet somewhere on the mountain for formal class photos, with the students kneeling and their instructor standing behind them. This way the students would have a souvenir to remember their experience. As we waited our turn to pose for the camera, I quietly told my students that when the photographer was ready to take the picture I would yell “Pig pile!” and they should jump on me. 

And they did just that, with their usual enthusiasm. Everyone around got a good laugh except the Ski School Director. She got angry and made us take the photo in that stiff formal pose and refused to give the kids our fun picture that fit the fun time we all had.

What a spoil sport.

Ken Kaiyala 
12-8-2024