A DAY IN THE GLAMOROUS LIFE OF A WINDSURFING INSTRUCTORBack to Job Section
By Vicki Duncan.

I arrive at WorldWinds a little early today, 9:30. I usually open at 10, but today I know I have a full class. Seven people to be introduced, and hopefully fall in love with, windsurfing. Set up the umbrellas, the hammock, the awning and get the boards and sails ready. My helper, Roy, arrives at 9:50, complaining of an upset stomach and a general feeling of unwellness. The students arrive on time, right at 10am. Three cars full. Looks like a lot more people than 7. After introductions are made, I realize my mistake; there are three extra women who had reserved space several days ago. Oops. Operating my business by cell phone (there are no services at my beach), I sometimes forget where or if I wrote the list of reservations for classes. Ok, I think, "I can handle this, I am SuperWindsurfWoman". The wind isn't too overpowering today, I can come up with enough gear, I have twelve years of teaching experience, last weekend was a washout due to rain and I need to make up the lost income. I can see Roy looking at me like I am nuts. I feel invigorated and competent. A challenge!

The students fill out the liability release forms and other information I ask for. There are 2 female and 2 male teenagers, 3 athletic looking women in their late twenties, one adult chain-smoking male and two well over forty women. I go to work memorizing names. Reading the applications, I notice one of the adult females has responded to the question - do you have any fears of the water- with "I dislike sharks". Uh oh. I ask, "Who doesn't"? I explain to her that this is the Laguna Madre and there are no sharks (at least big ones). Then, in an effort to joke about it, I point out a large scar on my leg and explain that it was from the only one ever spotted here. Now that I have her attention, I tell her the truth, it came from a drunk driver who was my ex-husband. Much more dangerous and plentiful than sharks. Now she is laughing. Good, my theory is that students should laugh, it helps them relax. But on a more serious note, I tell her to be aware that she will be in the water a great deal and if this fear will be a problem for her she may wish to reconsider. "No", she says. "No problem."

Roy finishes getting the gear out for us while I move the class to a shady spot for a short theory lecture. I am explaining that the wind will shift later in the afternoon to straight offshore and that the students may need to do some walking back upwind in the 4' deep water. Ms. Dislikes Sharks decides to drop out of class. Just as well. As this is South Texas in late July, the heat can get intense. For this reason, I opt for an anchored on-the-water simulator and two Windgliders for the training session. This puts us all in knee deep water for the next hour of training. Everything is going great. It is a pleasure to watch people learning. This is the tough part, having three people on simulators at a time, watching them all and giving each one individual instructions and encouragement.

It is the turn of the remaining adult woman. She gets on a Windglider and immediately takes a very ungraceful fall. She excuses herself from the class saying that she would prefer private lessons. Just too humiliating. Oh well, 8 left. I always did say that becoming a windsurfer takes a willingness to be humbled. That and a streak of hardheadedness.

The remainder of the class is doing great, I send them to the shore one by one for Roy to assign them gear. Back on the water, they take off. One of the male teenagers and one of the athletic women immediately go straight downwind which I unfortunately do not notice for a full minute as I am helping those who have stayed close to shore. I am blowing the whistle and waving for the two to walk back. But - remember the hardheadness part? They continue trying and blowing farther away. I had already warned them that I would not leave the majority of the class to sail out and tell them to walk back. Eventually, they do walk back. The teenager, deciding that this is just too much work and he prefers jet skiing, says he is going in for a drink of water. I already know that he won't be returning. The woman keeps at it but isn't as natural at it as her friends. I try to give her extra attention but she blows downwind several times, walking back each time and starting over. She is gutsy, I like this lady and give her extra encouragement.

We are on the water for another two and a half hours. By 2:00, there are 7 new windsurfers in the world. I feel good about it and so do they. I get the class to help carry in all the equipment, give them handouts and they are on their way, promising to return.

In the meantime, several renters have arrived and Roy has been getting them lined out with gear. I am beginning to think that maybe I should go sail a bit, the wind meter says it has picked up to 19mph. I grab a quick lunch and rent boards to a couple of Marines who are going to the local flight school. One of them was in a beginner class last week and A Other says he used to windsurf several years ago.

I sail for about an hour, working on monkey jibes and falling repeatedly until I finally succeed in making one. "Look! I did it"! I yell, but no one is watching. Of course, they only watch when I fall. My shoulder injury from last week is starting to feel fresh again so I decide I better quit, go in and let Roy go home.

I check on the whereabouts of the few renters who are out and can't find the pilot who said he used to windsurf. Getting out the binoculars, I find him about a mile downwind, nearing the intracoastal waterway where he can no longer stand up. I keep an eye on him, glad that I remembered to have him read the rental information that states rescues due to not having the common sense to walk back before getting too far from shore would be billed at $30/hr. My shoulder hurts, I don't want to have to tow someone back! Roy isn't in any better shape to do it with his upset stomach and a severe case of tendentious in his arm. I guess Roy's going home early opportunity is over. Another fifteen minutes passes. He is getting farther away, he is on A Other side of the channel. I fume a bit, get out a long board and tow rope and take off on a run. It takes me just a few minutes to reach him but I know it will be a much longer tack back. I try to be civil and as usual, crack a few jokes to lighten things up. I know this is a humbling moment for him. He is a Marine! He is young! He is buff! I am a 45 year old female coming to his rescue. I inform him that his buddy has my camera on shore with a telephoto lens and is taking pictures of me towing him back and they will be published in the local Military newspaper. It is punishment enough. Although I do charge him the rescue fee also.

Finally, we are locking the doors and heading home. I get in my van and notice a mud dobber with a large glob of mud in his claws, or whatever it is that mud dobbers have, fly under the dash of my van. I stop and pound on the dash until he exits. There is a buzzing noise coming from the dash all the way home. I think I know why the blower on my a/c has been acting up. I decide to be extravagant and pay .50 for the Quick Wash on the way home to get the salt off the van. Holding the nozzle of the garden hose just seems like too much of an effort right now. I feel like someone put a chunk of kryptonite in SuperWindsurfWoman's space ship. Arriving at home near 8pm, I briefly consider processing all the paperwork for the day. Nah- instead I open a beer, lay on the floor and contemplate the glamorous life of a windsurfing instructor and the Intangible Profit of the Lifestyle.

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