Start a big, ambitious, inspiring project

An update after 15 hours of building our airplane

I wanted to do something big. Something big and fun. I wanted to do something that my son would enjoy, something he’d be proud of, something that would make him believe the impossible was a little more possible. If we were going to do school together, I wanted it to be wildly ambitious.

We decided to tackle a big project. And we decided it shouldn’t just be a big project. No, it should be a once in a life-time project. Those types of projects you look back upon fondly and tell your grandkids about. The kind that you brag to random strangers in line at the barbershop while waiting for them to open the doors because it’s 27 degrees outside and before long you’re new friends.

A big project is integral to this type of education. An ambitious goal is what this education is all about.

Why?

Because goals take ambition. They take agency. They are self-motivated. And the bigger the goal, the more ambitious the idea, the more your student will learn.

It’s what we all dream about for our kids, right? A way to get them excited about learning, to give them agency, and to teach them they can do anything if they set their mind to it. And let’s not forget about bragging rights. Because when you tell other people about your wildly ambitious, once-in-a-lifetime education project, they almost always say “I wish I’d gotten to do that as a kid.” And when your child tells their friends about their project, they stand up a little bit straighter. They have a newfound mirth in their eye. They’re on fire.

This is what education could be. This is why we’re building an airplane.

We’ve been building for almost 15 hours now. The horizontal stabilizer is complete. We’ll move on to the elevator this week, and we’re going to start the polishing process also. I’d like to polish this thing to a mirror shine, make it look like an old WWII bomber. My son wants to paint a husky somewhere on the airplane. There’s still lots of building ahead of us.

This is our horizontal stabilizer. 15 hours complete

But for now, I’d like to share my reflections on the first 15 hours:

There are so many opportunities to learn problem solving

Nothing has quite gone as smoothly as we had planned. The shipping company called an hour before they showed up to say they were coming. They never let us know what they were bringing us. When they showed up, they couldn’t get the airplane off the truck, and took it to a warehouse an hour and a half away. We had to find a neighbor with a trailer who agreed to go get it for us. Then we had to figure out how to get a 700 lb. crate into our garage.

From there, we’ve had to keep figuring it out. This bolt doesn’t quite fit, what do we do? This part doesn’t quite look right, how do we figure out what’s going on? On the third day of building, he was pulling a larger than normal rivet with the rivet gun. He wanted the pin to slide into the bin, so he pushed it back into the gun. It got stuck. He stared at it with wide brown eyes, pulling on the pin. He tugged silently. He even tried to hide the rivet gun.

But then I saw him grow up in an instant. He looked up at me and handed me the gun. “Dad, I made a mistake. I think the rivet gun is broken. How do we fix it?” I told him I had no idea how to fix it, but together we started in on it. Within 10 minutes, the whole rivet gun was in pieces on the floor. When he put it back together, we still hadn’t found the pin, but at least it wasn’t blocking the nozzle. We could work again.

A few days later, the pin fell out of the rivet gun. He was so excited.

We’ve come upon so many opportunities to tackle a problem. Building a big project like this seems to be a process of hitting a snag, figuring out how to solve it, then finding the next one. So is building a startup, planning a military mission, and providing humanitarian relief. Everything important I’ve ever done in my life has been a process of running into a problem and figuring out how to solve it.

He’s learning that one early.

This isn’t a lesson, it’s an apprenticeship

I realized early on that I wanted this project to be an apprenticeship. I didn’t want to teach him how to build an aircraft; I wanted to teach him love of craft, respect for quality, and belief in the value of hard work. I wanted to pass on values through our time together.

When I was growing up, I had a “good enough” mentality. I was happy to get an A- in school. I would mow the lawn just well enough that my dad wouldn’t make me do it again. From school to Eagle Scouts to everything in between, I liked saying I had done things. But I never understood what it meant to obsessively take pride in the quality of my work.

I remember reading about Steve Jobs and the original Apple computers. He would obsess over every detail. Even parts that would never be seen inside the machine had to be perfect. Even the screws were specifically chosen. When I read that, I was so impressed. I taught myself that passion — later in life though.

My boy and I are obsessing over the quality of every rivet. If it’s not tight enough, we mark it with a sharpie. Then we drill it out at the end of the day and fix it. He’s learned how to ease into the drill so that it doesn’t go flying, and how to hit a punch at just the right angle. I showed him how the tools work before I let him use them. I watched closely as he used anything the first time, and then I gave him increasing responsibility with them. Now he uses them without my direct guidance.

Sometimes he makes mistakes, and we start back over under my supervision. Sometimes I make mistakes and he guides me. One time we installed 70 rivets before we realized we weren’t supposed to place them yet. We helped each other drill all of them out. Together we’re apprenticing with each other.

This is the way I want to do all of our education. The airplane is our trial run. Eventually we’ll move to an apprenticeship in every subject. Until he surpasses me.

Sometimes it’s best just to get started

When we started building, we didn’t have a workbench made. We didn’t have a great setup in our shop. In fact, we really didn’t have anything.

We probably should have built the shop first. Instead, we just got started.

We laid cardboard on the garage floor and set the parts on top of the cardboard. We worked kneeling down on the ground. We set tools around us and my computer on the ground, with the drawings resting on the cardboard too.

There is a time and a place to set up shop. Having the right workspace is important. But not at the expense of working.

Sometimes you just need to get started.

It’s okay if he only does the fun stuff

Some of the process of building an airplane is tedious. It’s not interesting. I get bored myself.

I quickly reminded myself that he doesn’t have to participate in every moment. He can come work for 30 minutes and then go take a break. He’s allowed to not want to pull every rivet and cleco every part. That’s not a failure.

So some days he does everything. Other days, he only participates in the fun parts.

I want him to experience joy. I want him to have fun. I want him to remember this is an amazing father son project and a really cool education. So why ruin that by forcing him to do everything?

Plus, sometimes it’s nice to work alone. We both benefit from that time.

Yet sometimes we just need to hunker down and finish

As we approached the end of the horizontal stabilizer, there were hundreds of rivets in line that needed to be pulled. It wasn’t glamorous or fun work, but it needed to be done. Another great lesson for my boy.

Sometimes we just need to focus and push through the doldrums.

We worked as a team. I placed the rivets, he pulled them. I would go down the line and place a rivet. He would follow me with the rivet gun and pull every one. As he progressed, I’d pull out the clecos and place more rivets. He’d follow up with the rivet gun and pull more. We did that for an hour before we finished.

Not every part of learning is glamorous and memorable. Sometimes a project just requires work. So we learned how to work.

It gives him a chance to show off

We’ve had a lot of visitors lately. Family has been in town; friends have come over. People like to see the airplane.

My son is normally shy. He often hides behind me when other people come over, barely whispering as I try drawing him into the conversation. Sometimes I think his favorite place is behind my legs, face buried into my sweater.

But with the airplane it’s different. He loves showing off. He’s shown everyone in our family how to pull a rivet. He stands them in just the right spot so they can see what happens to the metal. He holds their hands as they place the gun against the pin. He even talks them through what he’s doing.

His confidence in himself skyrockets when he’s around this project. He smiles more. He opens up. He talks smack. He regularly asks if we can include others, and eagerly invites them into the garage to work. He beams like a proud parent when someone does something correctly. And he gently corrects them when they make an error.

This project has increased his empathy and his confidence.

I have more energy than I expected

I love teaching my son. The relationship we’ve developed is beautiful. The inner work I’ve done to know how to teach him is powerful. The potential I see in him makes me proud.

But this project also brings me a different type of joy. I am excited to get to work. I feel energized talking about it, and even more energized seeing it come together. I’m having fun.

As home educators, it’s too easy to ignore our own experience. We focus on our child, and rightfully so. But our children also need to see us having fun. They need to see us living joyfully. They need to see us with a little bit of swagger.

Building this airplane helped me remember that.

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You may not decide to build an airplane. Maybe your big project is a software program. Or a movie. Or a book. Maybe your big project is a tree house in that willow out front. Whatever it is, I hope you get started. Because this is the future of education.

I want that for your kids. And for you.

In case you missed it, other posts worth your time:

Note: Starting in 2025, the publication schedule will be shifting. Going forward, you can expect Building the Plane updates on Fridays. I hope you find increasing value as new changes roll out.

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