Drivers Ed
I am researching drivers ed programs. Is that crazy? In Colorado, a teenager has to have her driver's permit for 12 months before she can get her license. That means that if Hannah wants to get her driver's license when she turns sixteen, she has to get her permit when she turns fifteen, and has to take a driver's ed course within 6 months of taking the written test - so kids can enroll in driver's ed as early as 14 1/2 years old! My mind is boggled.
I remember taking driver's ed when I was a teen. It was offered at my high school. I think the semester long class was divided into two sections - half health class and half driver's ed. We'd learn about the rules of the road - how far before turning a corner we were supposed to turn on our turn signal, or how many feet behind the next car we were supposed to leave to give us space to stop. Of course, since I had no real concept of how far 200 feet are, or 50 yards, or whatever, they were just random numbers that I memorized for the test, and then promptly forgot afterwards. Even now, I have no idea of how many feet or yards I'm traveling. I try to signal early enough that a car that is tailgating me has time to realize I'm going to slow down to turn before they plow into the back of my van.
Also as part of the school's drivers ed program, probably for an extra fee, our school had simulators - individual booths decked out with steering wheels and foot pedals and mirrors, with giant screens on the walls that were supposed to teach us how to drive before we ever sat behind the wheel of a real car, without any of the dangers of momentum, or actually moving. The problem I saw with this was that we were told to slow down, and the picture on the screen would show us slowing down, but having never actually been behind the wheel of a real car, I had no idea how hard I was supposed to step on the brake pedal. There wasn't any feeling of motion to tell me how hard I was braking. The screen would show us turning one direction or another, but in my inexperience, I had no idea how far I would have to turn the wheel to go around a corner. Was I supposed to keep turning the wheel round and round in circles until I stopped turning? When I turned the wheel back the other way to go back to straight, would an actual car veer the other way because the wheel was turning the other way? I had no understanding of how the steering wheel manipulated the wheels of a real car, and the simulator didn't teach me that because my only feedback - what was shown on the screen, had nothing to do with my actions in my little booth. The simulator was, however, connected to a computer which dutifully recorded which pedals were pressed, which direction the wheel was rotated, and at the end of each class period it would spit out my score for the day. That was my feedback - too late to change anything, not enough to teach me how I could improve or what I was doing wrong. To this day, I am amazed that I passed.
I have vague memories of sitting in a car with a teacher and a few other students, driving around on real streets. This was my school sponsored Behind The Wheel training. I might have gotten a few minutes of actual driving in before my teacher realized I had no experience whatsoever being behind the wheel of an actual, moving car, and therefore I had no idea of what I was doing, and for the safety of the other passengers in the car (all of which had more driving experience than I did) had me pull over so someone less scary could do the driving.
I have more memories of being in my family's huge monster van with dad in the front passenger seat, driving in the high school's empty parking lot. That was when I learned how far I needed to turn the steering wheel in order to turn, and what happened when the wheel returned to straight. I learned how hard I was supposed to press on the brake so my passenger and I didn't go flying through the wind shield. I remember with great appreciation how calm my dad was when, driving from the lower parking lot to the upper parking lot, I misjudged how tight the curve was and bumped into a fence post that suddenly leaped out in front of the bumper.
I also have memories of driving with my mom. I don't think it was anything that she said, but it might have been the way she clutched the door, or double checked her seat belt, or pressed her right foot into the floor in front of her as though she wished there were an extra brake pedal on the passenger side that made me think she might be a little nervous. That seemed to increase my own nervousness, as if I wasn't already scared being in control of a couple tons of moving metal amongst how many other teenagers similarly equipped. It was only a matter of time before someone would make a simple mistake, and we would end up smashed amongst piles of wreckage. At least, that was how I felt when my mom was in the passenger seat.
In five months, Hannah will turn fifteen. If everything goes according to her plan, she'll get her driver's permit on or close to her birthday, and then over the next year she'll have to get over 50 hours of logged driving time, ten of those hours at night, plus six hours of driving with a certified driving instructor from an approved school in order to get her license when she turns sixteen. I wonder what kind of driver she will be. (And part of me really hopes that Steven is the one who will spend most of those 50 hours of driving practice with her. For her sake - I'm afraid I might be more like my mom.)
I remember taking driver's ed when I was a teen. It was offered at my high school. I think the semester long class was divided into two sections - half health class and half driver's ed. We'd learn about the rules of the road - how far before turning a corner we were supposed to turn on our turn signal, or how many feet behind the next car we were supposed to leave to give us space to stop. Of course, since I had no real concept of how far 200 feet are, or 50 yards, or whatever, they were just random numbers that I memorized for the test, and then promptly forgot afterwards. Even now, I have no idea of how many feet or yards I'm traveling. I try to signal early enough that a car that is tailgating me has time to realize I'm going to slow down to turn before they plow into the back of my van.
Also as part of the school's drivers ed program, probably for an extra fee, our school had simulators - individual booths decked out with steering wheels and foot pedals and mirrors, with giant screens on the walls that were supposed to teach us how to drive before we ever sat behind the wheel of a real car, without any of the dangers of momentum, or actually moving. The problem I saw with this was that we were told to slow down, and the picture on the screen would show us slowing down, but having never actually been behind the wheel of a real car, I had no idea how hard I was supposed to step on the brake pedal. There wasn't any feeling of motion to tell me how hard I was braking. The screen would show us turning one direction or another, but in my inexperience, I had no idea how far I would have to turn the wheel to go around a corner. Was I supposed to keep turning the wheel round and round in circles until I stopped turning? When I turned the wheel back the other way to go back to straight, would an actual car veer the other way because the wheel was turning the other way? I had no understanding of how the steering wheel manipulated the wheels of a real car, and the simulator didn't teach me that because my only feedback - what was shown on the screen, had nothing to do with my actions in my little booth. The simulator was, however, connected to a computer which dutifully recorded which pedals were pressed, which direction the wheel was rotated, and at the end of each class period it would spit out my score for the day. That was my feedback - too late to change anything, not enough to teach me how I could improve or what I was doing wrong. To this day, I am amazed that I passed.
I have vague memories of sitting in a car with a teacher and a few other students, driving around on real streets. This was my school sponsored Behind The Wheel training. I might have gotten a few minutes of actual driving in before my teacher realized I had no experience whatsoever being behind the wheel of an actual, moving car, and therefore I had no idea of what I was doing, and for the safety of the other passengers in the car (all of which had more driving experience than I did) had me pull over so someone less scary could do the driving.
I have more memories of being in my family's huge monster van with dad in the front passenger seat, driving in the high school's empty parking lot. That was when I learned how far I needed to turn the steering wheel in order to turn, and what happened when the wheel returned to straight. I learned how hard I was supposed to press on the brake so my passenger and I didn't go flying through the wind shield. I remember with great appreciation how calm my dad was when, driving from the lower parking lot to the upper parking lot, I misjudged how tight the curve was and bumped into a fence post that suddenly leaped out in front of the bumper.
I also have memories of driving with my mom. I don't think it was anything that she said, but it might have been the way she clutched the door, or double checked her seat belt, or pressed her right foot into the floor in front of her as though she wished there were an extra brake pedal on the passenger side that made me think she might be a little nervous. That seemed to increase my own nervousness, as if I wasn't already scared being in control of a couple tons of moving metal amongst how many other teenagers similarly equipped. It was only a matter of time before someone would make a simple mistake, and we would end up smashed amongst piles of wreckage. At least, that was how I felt when my mom was in the passenger seat.
In five months, Hannah will turn fifteen. If everything goes according to her plan, she'll get her driver's permit on or close to her birthday, and then over the next year she'll have to get over 50 hours of logged driving time, ten of those hours at night, plus six hours of driving with a certified driving instructor from an approved school in order to get her license when she turns sixteen. I wonder what kind of driver she will be. (And part of me really hopes that Steven is the one who will spend most of those 50 hours of driving practice with her. For her sake - I'm afraid I might be more like my mom.)
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