In my previous article, I mentioned that my first flight was scheduled about two weeks after arriving in the US. The flight training was supposed to begin once I completed the TSA fingerprint registration.
Usually, the fingerprint registration process takes only a few days. However, I hadn’t heard back from them for a long time. Despite several inquiries, I had no idea why it was taking so long. Meanwhile, I couldn’t fly at all and spent all my time studying ground school. Other student pilots who arrived at the same time had already flown many times.
The flight school decided that continuing with the ground school alone wouldn’t be very beneficial since the syllabus was originally designed to be followed alongside flight training for better efficiency. So, I ended up going to school every day and studying on my own.
Thinking back, I remember tripping over my carry-on baggage at the airport, the flight school had closed, and I had managed to transfer to a new one. Now, with the fingerprint registration still taking so long, I wondered what was really going on.
The FBO building where the flight school was located faced the ramp area. From the window, I could see airplanes parked and taking off on the runways. Since I didn’t have a permit to enter the ramp, I would borrow a small radio to listen to Tower control communications while watching the planes from the window every day.
One day, an instructor advised me to draw pictures of aircraft systems and such in my textbook because I wasn’t very familiar with mechanical systems. So, I started drawing every day, which helped improve my understanding. This practice paid off during the oral exam, where I successfully explained topics using my drawings.
Then, an instructor gave me advice to draw pictures of aircraft systems etc. on the textbook because I was not familiar with mechanical systems. So, I was drawing pictures every day, which led to my knowledge improvement, resulting in successful explanations with drawing in the oral exam.
During two weeks until my second flight, listening to only one flight recording of my first flight, I transcribed ATC communications every day asking questions. I continued to transcribe not only my flight but also other aircraft's communications. This made me learn ATC communications to be required later, which enabled me to properly reply to controllers even in a new situation. Hard work always pays off.
Improving My ATC Communication: My Training Goals
Before starting my flight training, I set three main goals for myself:
1. Stay calm at all times — I tend to panic easily, get discouraged, and become overly sensitive, so I really wanted to overcome that.
2. Become better at multitasking — I’m naturally more convergent-oriented, but I aimed to develop a more divergent-oriented mindset.
3. Communicate successfully with ATC controllers — it would be amazing to do this well, and I wanted to improve my English for it.
4.
When you love what you’re doing, you’re willing to try even things you’re not good at. In the final article of this series, you’ll find out whether I achieved these goals.
Even after my flight training resumed, I kept transcribing recorded ATC communications every day, even though I knew it wasn’t the most time-efficient method. I asked my instructors to help fill in the gaps where I didn’t understand, and they explained the background behind the ATC phraseology, too. I’m not sure if this was an efficient approach or not — I just did it because I felt compelled to. However, I do admit that I lost some valuable time that could have been spent on mental image training. So once I stopped that practice, I focused more on visualization.
Now, when will I be able to fly again? (continued)
It had been two weeks since I arrived in the United States. I hadn’t flown even once because of issues with Flight School E. Fortunately, the principal of the new school was very supportive regarding the refund and transfer process. However, I was advised to be assertive since I’m in the U.S., not Japan, so I made sure to handle the transfer proactively.
Today was the Familiarization Flight I had been looking forward to. The person I briefly greeted when I visited School B the other day turned out to be my main instructor, and I was scheduled to fly with him. It was around 6 p.m., but in Southern California, daylight lasts long. The evening was pleasant with low humidity and a comfortable breeze.
About the wind—once flight training started, I rarely found it simply pleasant. At times it felt bothersome, sometimes even scary, but always interesting.
My ATC Debut with Slow Playback
The instructor demonstrated how to perform a preflight inspection and start the engine. Then we listened to the ATIS and practiced communicating with ATC. When pilots receive ATC clearance or instructions, they must send an acknowledgment or readback. My ATC debut was a short readback consisting of just two words.
When communicating with Delivery Control, I received clearance to contact Ground Control. As a readback, I said, “Contact Ground.” I thought I spoke smoothly and quickly, but when I listened to the recording later, it sounded like slow motion—definitely not smooth at all! LOL.
Then, I contacted Ground Control to request taxi clearance, which involved longer communication. So, this was basically my real ATC debut. Since ATC communications can be heard worldwide, and I didn’t want to annoy the controllers, I was so nervous that my heart was pounding. I spoke up desperately—but got no response. “???”
To my (and maybe your) surprise, we discovered the radio equipment wasn’t working properly and my voice wasn’t being transmitted. I tried again. This time it worked, but when I listened to the recording later, it sounded like half-speed playback once again.
The instructor went through the procedures one by one in a very efficient way, clearly explaining each step so I could easily understand. While taxiing, he not only gave instructions but also seemed to be listening carefully to ATC communications from other aircraft. They say pilots shouldn’t focus on just one thing, but rather divide their attention. Of course, it’s okay if you can’t do that right away. I was really impressed by how the instructor could handle multiple tasks at once — truly a master of multitasking. In the United States, a flight instructor is called a Certified Flight Instructor (CFI). It was the first time in my life that I got to see this profession up close.
Takeoff
As we rolled onto the runway, I noticed it was wider than I had expected. With full power applied, I nervously pushed the control wheel forward, following my instructor’s verbal cues. The aircraft lifted off the ground and took flight. In that moment, I remembered my original passion for flying—this was exactly the experience I had been longing for.
FAA Airplane Flying Handbook Figure 4-10
Up in the Air
While cruising, I learned about straight-and-level flight and turning flight. The instructor praised my timing perfectly, saying things like, "Oh, that’s good," or "Yes, very good." I heard that the main goal of Familiarization Flights in the U.S. is to help students enjoy flying, and I definitely felt that was the case. However, when I later listened to the flight playback, I realized the instructor wasn’t just praising me—he was teaching the basic maneuvers in a clear and organized way.
Because I never felt completely at ease while flying, it often took me a long time to fully understand what was being said, even though it was in Japanese. I hadn’t even noticed this until I listened to the playback. Hearing it made me realize I was somewhat absent-minded during the flight. But when I looked back at the notes I took after each flight, I saw how passionately I was studying. I wrote things like, “I will try to do everything the instructor tells me today,” “I will eliminate my bad habit of unintentional back pressure,” and “I will make sure to do a thorough preflight inspection.” I was truly motivated.
Finally, Landed
After about 40 minutes of cruising flight, we prepared for landing. My instructor guided me through controlling the plane while communicating with ATC and adjusting power and trim. He was juggling so many tasks at once—truly a multitasking pro.
Once we parked the plane on the ramp, I stepped out and saw a stunning sunset.
Tomorrow, I’ll be going to an office for TSA registration. This registration requires fingerprint submission and is necessary for international students participating in the flight training program. Although it’s not required for the Familiarization Flight, it’s mandatory for the subsequent training. The process usually completes within a few days, allowing us to move forward with the flight training.
Finally, I’m really about to start flying and studying ground school… or am I? (continued)
I stood there, confused in front of the principal, unable to fully grasp what had happened in just a few minutes at Flight School E.
Then, with a more relaxed expression than before, the principal asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked if there was any long-distance bus service to get to the school at Cilantro Airport. He paused for a moment, giving me a curious look I couldn’t quite read, and then said, “I have a Cessna 172 flight scheduled to Cilantro Airport shortly after noon today. Would you like to come with me?” Without really understanding what was happening, I replied, “Yes, please.” He then asked the name of the school I was transferring to. When I told him, he smiled in surprise and said, “That school is actually in the same building I’m heading to.”
At the reception desk, the woman noticed I hadn’t brought my headset that day and kindly lent me her pink one.
What I didn’t realize at first was that the principal was going on a stage-check flight with a student pilot to Cilantro Airport. So, just after noon, the Cessna 172’s engine roared to life — with the student pilot in the left seat, the principal in the right, and me sitting in the back. About twenty or thirty minutes later, Cilantro Airport came into view. Despite having a headache from crying so much, I clearly remember being deeply moved by the stunning view from the air. The sunshine looked golden, and everything below sparkled brightly.
I listened to the ATC communications, knowing this would be the base airport for my training. The aircraft landed safely and was parked at the ramp right in front of the building where Flight School B is located. I entered the school with the principal and was introduced to the head of my future flight school. He seemed to recognize me right away, probably because we had exchanged emails several times and I had visited their Tokyo office during the flight school selection process.
After discussing future plans with the new principal, I stopped to greet one of the instructors on my way out. He would later become my main instructor and gave me honest, thoughtful ground and flight lessons that helped me change my approach as a private pilot.
Anyway, I was transferred to Flight School B. A few days later, I arrived at the home of my new host family, arranged by the school. The new flight school was impressively efficient with all the preparations and told me my first flight would be scheduled for the very next day. In the U.S., this is called a “Familiarization Flight” — an opportunity to get a feel for what flight training is really like.
After the hectic days of uncertainty since arriving in the U.S., I finally reached what felt like a desert oasis. Excited for the flight ahead, I went to bed feeling calm and peaceful.
Now, the real training could finally begin. Or so I thought… (continued)
I left Japan for the U.S., arrived on schedule, met a staff member from the flight school at the airport as planned, and reached the school without a hitch.
The base airport for Flying School E was Pistachio Airport (a fictitious name) — a peaceful, non-towered field with a single runway. The school building stood right at the runway’s edge, and from its balcony I could watch training aircraft practicing touch-and-go landings. I even saw a banner-towing airplane doing practice runs — something you rarely see in Japan. It was an entirely different aviation world from the one I knew back home, where “airports” meant bustling terminals and constant departures and arrivals every few minutes.
But something felt… off. Yes, it was a flight school — just not the one I had envisioned. I had enrolled specifically to receive instruction in Japanese from a Japanese instructor, yet there wasn’t a single Japanese staff member in sight. Nothing had been prepared for me — no textbooks, no syllabus, no flight schedule. And by the end of the day, all they said was, “Just head back to your host family’s house.”
As I stood there, watching rows of Cessna 172s glowing in the golden sunset, I couldn’t shake a quiet, lingering sense of disappointment.
Then the instructor looked at me and said, “You should talk to the principal,” before walking me to his office. The principal—a tall, slender American man—struck me as rather stern.
I asked, “There are no signs for Flying School E. Where can I find it?”
He answered plainly, “There is no more Flying School E.”
“No more?”
“That’s right. The school doesn’t exist anymore. We acquired it.”
“...”
I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. I told him how much time and effort I had put into choosing this school. I needed a flying school that could offer training in Japanese, taught by Japanese instructors. Otherwise, I would end up lost—unable to truly understand, and without any real chance of success.
Yet nothing had been arranged for me: no syllabus, no textbooks, no training schedule—things that should have been prepared from the start. It felt as if another “me” was floating somewhere above, watching the scene from a distance, wondering why I had to explain all this in my broken English.
The principal, still with that stern look in his eyes, asked, “Would you like to talk on the phone with the Japanese representative of Flight School E?”
I replied, “But it must be around 1:00 a.m. in Japan right now…”
Before I could even finish my sentence, he was already dialing the number.
He said something along the lines of, “Now here’s another Japanese student in trouble—what are you going to do about it?”
Then he handed me his cell phone.
I hadn’t planned what to say, but I began explaining the situation as it had unfolded. Wanting the principal to act as a witness, I ended by saying in English, “This is a breach of contract on your part, and you have an obligation to refund me in full and provide every support for a smooth transfer to another school.”
I used the word “transfer” because I already had Flight School B at Cilantro Airport in mind—my second choice during my initial research. The representative on the phone, however, seemed to treat me lightly the entire time, showing no sincerity at all.
When I hung up, my “old lady” face was a mess—tear-streaked, puffy-eyed, and aching from a pounding headache. As I thought about transferring, I couldn’t help wondering how I would even reach that school in the U.S., where train networks are scarce. Would there be a long-distance bus, or something else? I had come all the way from Japan on my own, and now I was left wondering what would happen to me next. (continued)
By this point, I had collected numerous estimates from different flying schools, studied hard for the written exam, and consistently scored 90% or higher on mock tests. I had signed an agreement with School E, paid a substantial amount of money, and purchased all the necessary gear—headset, recorder, and so on. The only thing left was to get my US visa.
When I received several of the supporting documents required for my visa application from School E, one of them didn’t sit right with me.
It listed a daily schedule for the English classes supposedly needed for my flight training. What caught my attention wasn’t the schedule itself, but the name of the company that had prepared the document. It wasn’t School E. Instead, it bore the name of a company I had never heard of—let’s call it Santa Maria Corporation.
Just to be sure, I asked, “What is this Santa Maria Corporation?” My instructor paused for a moment, then told me to think of it as “a visa-issuing company.”
Now, if this happened today, I’d immediately Google it or ask someone on social media. But back then, I didn’t even feel suspicious—I couldn’t spot a lie or a questionable claim if it was right in front of me. And honestly, how can you call something a “visa-issuing company”? That’s oddly fishy. After all, visas are supposed to be issued by government authorities, not some mysterious corporation.
Anyway, I went to the embassy with my documents to get a visa. Looking back, it had been almost a year since I first started longing for a pilot’s view and began searching for a flying school. By this point, there was no turning back.
What I now question—though I didn’t at the time—was that School E had changed its training base airport in the U.S. multiple times in just the past month. I should have been more suspicious. The first base, a controlled airport, was changed to a non-controlled one, and then once again to another controlled airport. Of course, it’s not unusual for a flying school to relocate. But moving again and again in such a short time should have raised a red flag for me. Still, the day had finally come—I was leaving for the U.S.
While waiting for my flight at the gate, I got up to grab some water. Unfortunately, I tripped over my carry-on bag and took a pretty bad fall right onto it. The people around me were so kind, checking to make sure I was okay. I thanked them sincerely.
Something bad on the horizon? No way—let’s not go there! (continued)
