[Lanny Totton is a member of the Toronto Inline Skating Club. He is a skilled speedskater, veteran of two of the world's most challenging races: Athens-to-Atlanta and the Défi de l'Île de Montréal.] If you want to be an inline instructor, read this first, it could save you money. Here is my story. Questions rattled around in my brain as I contemplated attending an International Inline Skating Association (IISA) level 1 course in Ottawa. Do I want to teach beginners at TISC? Doesn't someone need to take new TISC people aside and give them lessons or the rules of the road before they join the pack? Someone should! Do I need a course or accreditation to teach this? Maybe. I won't know until I've done it. The cost is prohibitively expensive, $350 US, but the Ottawa club [OUISC] has negotiated an equivalent $350 CDN rate. We arrive Friday night with 5 minutes to spare after braving heavy traffic and pouring rain from Toronto. We are greeted by two examiners, Dave from Oakville and Kim from Ottawa. They set the stage and joke about. I sense a strange atmosphere because this sounds similar to the Skiing Instructor's Alliance and the Sailing Instructor's Alliance programs I've taken. Missionaries from IISA, they are. I'll grin and bear it. "For TISC", I mumble to myself. I begin to feel bored very quickly as the examiners spend countless time on minutiae. I realize they are teaching us the International Inline Skating Association manual but I don't pay too much attention. It reminds me of Disney; you must get into costume and character. You must behave in a professional manner. You must take IISA very seriously. You must skate like Mickey and not like Goofy. You must adhere to the script. You must also be humorous. And you must treat the examiners as if they are gods. Know thy place. Now that is a good thing, if the course is going to teach us something to take back to our clubs. But we start out spending hours on the most fundamental items like equipment, with an ad for Rollerblade (their only sponsor) because of their braking system. I nearly say, "Gag me", but refrain from any audible comments. But I did learn something. (You should say something positive before you point out errors and provide corrections. So now let me think for a while for something positive to say.....) They have 9 pages in the manual that succinctly describe good teaching techniques. But I've seen all this before, using other words and in various other models. Woe to me. This is the IISA Bible and as such must be memorized and imprinted on the brain. This is the fraternity mantra or script. You will be tested on every word in these pages, expected to be able to recite it backwards and forwards. (This really doesn't sink in until we see the written exam.) Then the manual describes the 9 progressions from dressing (knee pads, elbow pads, helmet, wrist guards) to moving to stopping and then to gliding. Oh how detailed. They even give you sample communications for your students like "Let's move from this spot to that spot." There are 37 more script snippets in the margins. The examiners enlighten us on who doesn't skate anymore and why. 60% of skaters quit because they don't know how to stop. So how come the first lesson isn't stopping? Stopping is covered in lesson 3. I speculate 60% of the people quit after lessons one or two. I can believe it. I have never met someone who needs all these lessons to learn to skate. But this is the script and as " professionals" we must know the script, apply it as ordered, demonstrate exactly as shown and not miss a syllable. They brow-beat us into the fraternity requirements. My head hurts. I've got a pain in my neck. Do I need this? And I paid for it! Plus, my feet hurt. This is probably the 3rd time I've worn recreational skates. They don't support comfortably after 6 hours, they are unstable, the wheels are soft and the brake is annoying. But this is the costume we must wear so I grin and bear it some more. So we spend 3 hours learning to walk on skates, turn this into a very small stride and then stop. This is interesting, but how can this take 3 hours and 3 lessons? I have yet to meet this imaginary dense and uncoordinated person, who wants to learn to skate. But, as the gods seriously describe -- all people arrive with their equipment in a box, with the price tags still on. After learning to turn and stride a bit more, they teach us a spin-stop and a grass-stop. Now I have reservations; these IISA techniques go over my safety bar. There is no way I'm going to teach people to skate backwards to stop or to bail out onto grass. I never skate backwards, it's asking for injury. And bailing out on grass at anything other than very slow speed is just going to break your nose. I refrain from voicing my concerns. IISA is just another way to skin a knee... (Note to brain, forget this, I'm never going to use this at TISC.) The gods come from figure-skating and show no interest in speed techniques. (I refrain from volunteering any "speed" comments but I am concerned that people are teaching techniques that are actually counter-indicated for speed and even dangerous.) Now we get a chance to teach the basics. It doesn't matter who practise-teaches, the gods have ample criticism. I don't hear any positives first. I hear a lot of pontification and expounding of the gospel according to IISA. There are the canned jokes also. So much for positives first and constructive help next. The gods see gaps and omissions in the script and pounce. I see one student trying to explain his reasons, but to no avail. Explanations warrant a vociferous denouncing... in a passive-aggressive manner. Well, that was the first day. We all head off for beer and pizza and to see a movie. We invite the gods, but they decline. Now I feel the course is worse then useless, because they teach techniques that are totally contrary for fast skating. They teach us to lean towards the centre of the circle when doing crossovers. They teach us a lot of backwards skating, which is too dangerous for me. They also teach a backward slide-stop, which is impossible to do except on a very smooth floor or on wet pavement. I see that as a leg- or head-breaker. I also saw the whole "progression" as a technique to part people from their money. They dragged out 2 lessons into 12 and were proud of breaking everything down into the most miniscule movements. I teach skiing, and yes you need to break down the turn dynamics. But in skiing there are 3 or 4 errors that you can easily correct without going through a horrendous progression. The IISA progressions are embarrassingly ridiculous. Next day we write the exam, get assessed on our teaching and show our prowess on skates. The atmosphere is upbeat and jovial, though it feels a little forced. The constant detection and correction by the examiners is wearing us down. Really, it's oppressing and demoralizing. Are we there yet? And we stay inside a rink all weekend, even when it's so nice and warm and sunny outside. The assessments take a long time. Then it's time for the awards. The examiner explains that some people should think of this as a delay in graduation not a failure. Cynically I think to myself, "Oh yes, fork over another $500 and maybe you'll pass next time". The temperature of the crowd drops to below freezing. Upbeat no more. And now, a surprise for me -- I didn't pass. (Please, this report is not sour grapes; I've written my thoughts chronologically through the weekend.) One needs 480 points out of 600 to pass. That's 80%. A possible 100 points come from the exam, 200 from skating and 300 from teaching. I got 454 points. I didn't memorize enough, I didn't adhere to the script enough, I couldn't skate exactly like Mickey and I think I was marked down for "lack of fanatical dedication to IISA". (They must have overheard me telling someone that this course was worse than useless to me.) But after the surprise, I felt a sense of relief. Now I don't have to dress up and spout the gospel according to IISA. Please, for anyone wanting to teach, this is not the course to take. Save your money. IISA just seems archaic and out of touch. They live in a small, small world. Lanny Totton