PrintI was working in the driveway outside the barn when I met him, this giant of a man. The Live Oak leaves make a thick crinkly carpet on the dry grass, and I was toiling like a convict to turn them into orderly piles. Sweat was trickling off my knuckles and varnishing the handle of the rake, but it was hot satisfying work.
Just past the barn and through a swampy grove of orange trees, the Canadian National Eventing Team was riding. David O’Connor, my boss for the next few months, is their coach. I should have felt a kinship to them—this group of riders gathered here from all across my country—but I didn’t, not yet.
Most of them were too busy with horses or grooms or kids or dogs or fans to say hello. But Kyle Carter slammed the door of his pick-up, his stable logo prominently displayed on the side, and walked straight to me. Kyle is 6’4” and has the forearms of a prizefighter. I wondered what he wanted.
“Hi,” he said, eyes sparkling. (I later learned that his enthusiasm is rarely dampened. The only time I saw him without a smile was during his lesson with David, which I attributed to concentration rather than anything else.)
“I’m Kyle.”
I knew of course, but I wiped my hands on my shirt and shook his hand.
“I’ve been reading your articles in the Gaitpost. I was wondering when you were going to show up.”
That really caught me off guard.
He tucked his velvet hunt cap under his arm and went on.
“After I read the second one, I told my wife there was no way you would last at Mr. Hinnemann’s stable. I called it! We have working students as well, and you can tell which ones aren’t happy or don’t get it. But you should know that there is so much you can learn just by being in an atmosphere of excellence.”
Well, at least I knew one person was reading my articles.
And then Kyle, still standing in his half chaps, explained something I’d been struggling to understand and clarify for myself.
“In Europe the 45-minute lesson format is pretty uncommon. Instead they are always watching you. The trainer will say ‘try a half-pass now.’ Or ‘follow me over these cavaletti.’ And although they rarely tell you when you are doing something right, they will for sure tell you when you are doing something wrong. That way, you learn to think for yourself. It’s mainly in North America that working students trade work for a structured lesson, where the trainer tells them what to do the whole time. That, my friend, is the difference between learning to be a professional and learning to be a professional student!”
If I think back to my four months of working 72-hour weeks in Germany, I realize I hadn't received a single “lesson.” Yet I wouldn’t have traded that experience for 1000 lessons a week. I learned by watching and by doing. There's no price tag on the opportunity to ride talented, athletic, well-trained horses. Mastercard might say: “Horse $100,000. Breeches $180. Lesson $100. Working student position: Priceless.”
It's All About Understanding
