The students are cautiously lining up. They are dressed in pinks and blues and reds and purples and whites . . . and, look, there’s someone in a sparkling glitter affair good for both skiing and and going to the club. Helmets are of all different shades, but it’s hard to ignore the one with giant eyes above the visor and three horns. Sure, this could be the Grand Concourse in August at the Iowa State Fair, but, no, this is spring vacation time on the slopes in Loveland, Colorado.   

The students slide their skis forward, crouching low so as to be just that much closer to their inevitable destiny. Meanwhile, each instructor is trying to shepherd the group into the correct spot. Oops . . . one woman falls before getting to her class to learn how not to fall. The rest slowly gather around the teacher. There’s my wife, all strapped in her helmet, goggles on, gloves pulled tight, skies on the ground, and just mildly terrified. 

I applaud on the sidelines. I know of her early childhood history of three broken arms at various times from ice skating and roller skating. Sliding down a snow-packed hill on narrow sticks seems a little crazy. But here she is, 65 years old, absolutely not fearless, but ready to go for her ski lesson because “it looks fun.” 

And go she does. 

While I watch the little kids ski. 

These ski instructors are saints. They have the kids “walk like a penguin” to learn stops and turns, they shake their arms and legs in large exaggerated movements to keep everyone warm and loose, they laugh and smile and cajole and praise, and then they guide these little tykes down the hill. On skies. Amazing.

How is this done?

Cody Ingram is lining all the kids up and making sure they get to the right instructor.

“I’ve been in the industry since 1997. It’s very rewarding to teach kids. It’s physically demanding, but when you take a kid that thinks he can’t do it and turn it around, it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever done.”

A true believer.

“There’s a lot of difficult challenges that come with teaching kids. But mostly we focus on, first, safety; second, having fun; and third, we hopefully learn how to ski.”

Yup, I’m thinking the instructors must all be medicated. 

“We are certified as instructors, and we have child specialist certifications, level one and level two, so we learn about different learning styles for different age groups and different techniques to connect with kids on different levels. We even have instructors  trained to work with neurodivergent kids.” 

Sure, but what about the inevitable kid disasters?

“Kids get scared. We do a lot of emotional counseling, and we have a beautiful new children’s center, opened this year. If someone is struggling, we can take them inside and have some Goldfish crackers and hot chocolate and maybe color a picture. They calm down and come back out to ski.”

See? Saints. Although, as a student, I would have just bypassed the slopes and gone immediately to Goldfish and hot chocolate and coloring a picture. Who needs to walk like a penguin?

I go over to the bigger hill. My goodness, there’s a kid on his hands and knees following his dad, with his older sister acting like every older sister the world over — equally embarrassed and resigned. Obviously she is thinking, “why am I cursed with a brother wearing a three-horned helmet and crawling on his knees, who will certainly never get a date and will probably spend his life living in my basement when he’s not wearing horned costumes at renaissance fairs?” Well, sis, I love renaissance fairs. So there. 

And then I see Roger and his dad, Jonathon Jonse.

“We are done for the day. We only get a few runs. Roger’s two and a half.”

I shake my head in disbelief.

“This is our first season together and this is our sixth time coming. It’s getting easier every time. This is going to be something we do together for a lifetime, I hope.” 

Really? Why not watch TV sports and drink beer together? 

“You know, right now it is just really hard. There’s a lot of carrying. In the beginning it is a lot of cajoling and a lot of hot cocoa breaks. But that’s also good too. What I really enjoy is when we are on a run and I let go for a second, he’s going solo, and he’s laughing. That’s the best.” 

Obviously, these people are all crazy Coloradans. Duh. We Iowans know to keep our feet on flat ground and our heads focused on chores. 

“Joe! Theresa! Is that you?”

Yup, among the 500 or so people in the warming house is Dr. Joel Westrum and his family from Des Moines. Our family optometrist. Go figure. 

“It’s our youngest’s first day — she’s four. And this is another daughter, Rose.”

I think I must be having hallucinations from too much white snow glare. Do you mean even non-Coloradans torture their children?

“I kind of like it,” says Rose, who was in ski school all morning. 

Dr. Westrum explains:

“I started skiing when I was 4 or 5. My parents took us out in 1980 in a Winnebago with chains on it, from Stratford, Iowa, and we stayed at Winter Park. And after that we would come whenever we could.” 

I just shake my head and go try to find our car parked somewhere out in the foothills.

“And Theresa? How did your day go?”

“Well, I fell about 40% of the time just getting off the chair lift.”

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to laugh or cry. 

“But I survived and didn’t hurt myself. And it was great! Let’s go back later this week.”

Wow. 

Learning to ski when your over 65 and under 5 — a mystery to me.

Now, where are the Goldfish and hot chocolate and coloring books? 

Joe