Can you crowdfund a flight training scholarship?

She was young. I’m not sure how young, maybe 8 or 10 years old. A small girl with long brown hair wearing a green vest with a smattering of colorful badges that signified some accomplishment or other. From her hiding spot just outside the exit of my local grocery store she appeared. “Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?” she asked.

Her face registered a bit of unease. I remember selling products to raise money when I was a kid. I hated it. I felt embarrassed and bullied into doing it. This girl demonstrated just a hint of that trepidation, but she was doing her job. She was stepping up in the face of uncertainty to hopefully make something happen.

Now, in my own defense, I have to say that I’ve lost a considerable amount of weight over the past year. It took diligence and self-control. A box of Girl Scout cookies would be counter-productive from my perspective. So, I answered her a bit too quickly and without sufficient thought. “No, thank you. I can’t eat those,” was my reply.

She was stoic. Not openly disappointed, but not pleased either. That moment gave me an epiphany. “How much are they?” I asked.

The girl brightened, gesturing to a series of boxes on a nearby table. Her manner suggested she would be a perfect replacement for Vanna White a decade from now. “These are $6,” she explained, “and the rest are $5.”

Fishing my wallet out and picking $6 from it, I handed the bills to the girl.

“I can’t eat them, but would it be alright if I bought you a box of cookies?”

Her expression flashed a sense of befuddlement, then joy. She took the money. I headed for my car. All was well with our little corner of the world.

This peculiar little transaction gave me an idea. An idea that has nothing to do with cookies or small impulse purchases and everything to do with the smile that crossed that little girl’s face when she realized she’d made a sale and secured a tasty snack for herself at the same time.

Now, follow me closely on this. And resist the urge to harrumph and say, “That won’t work.” Because it will. Or at least it can.

Learning to fly is expensive. There’s no big breaking news in that statement. Thankfully, the power of addition tells us that an individual with even a modest income can save a small amount of cash with each paycheck that will add up over time to a large amount of cash. That’s how many of us came up with our first down-payment on a car, or a house, or an airplane. It’s basic math.

Problem number one is that method takes years to accomplish and we are facing a very real pilot shortage now — a shortage that will only get worse in the future if steps aren’t taken now to address the issue.

Secondarily, there are plenty of young people who want to get into various aspects of aviation, including the cockpit. Their financial means to achieve those goals in a reasonable amount of time aren’t within their grasp, however.

This is where the $6 cookie donation comes in. What if organizations across the nation decided they would sponsor a student pilot? What if the individuals in those organizations made the conscious decision to help fund a scholarship for a capable high school or college student in their area who doesn’t have the means to dive into flight training without a bit of help?

We’ve already identified many of these kids. They work line service at the airport. Perhaps they’ve been coming out to hang on the fence or watch landings and takeoffs from the observation deck. Or maybe they work at the grocery store, stocking shelves and ringing up our purchases. I’ve met aeronautical hopefuls in all those places. I’m betting you have too.

Let’s say the forward-thinking manager of the FBO decides they like the idea and wants to put it into action. The process could be as easy as setting up a separate bank account or as complex as starting a non-profit corporation to oversee the program. A scholarship fund would be the result.

Sure, that’s no big deal. But how would the FBO fund the scholarship? The devil is in the details, as they say.

Here’s the beauty of it. The simplicity of the whole thing. The community spirit. Pilots, both local and transient, can and will throw a few dollars into the pot randomly, just as I tossed a few bucks to a small girl with nothing but hope and a tabletop full of cookies.

When I call the FBO and ask them to top off my tanks, I might add, “Hey, put $10 into the scholarship fund, too.”

Or maybe I just drop a $20 on the counter one day as I head for the restaurant with the comment, “For the kids.” When I finish my flight review or an Instrument Proficiency Check I might offer, “Can you add an hour to my bill and apply it to the scholarship?”

Those extra expenses seem small and insignificant to me, but combined with the contributions of others they can easily pay for a new pilot every year.

It’s called crowdfunding and it really does work — $10 plus $20 equals $30. And we’re on our way. Add dozens — or maybe many dozens — of pilots contributing to the cause and those dollar figures start becoming bigger in a hurry.

If you’re lucky a local business or two may see the benefit of your project and make a substantial contribution. If your scholarship fund registers with the IRS as a 501(c)(3) tax exempt charity (assuming you set it up in a way that qualifies) and that possibility becomes increasingly likely.

Ultimately, the question isn’t will it work? It will. The math is unassailable. The question is will you initiate it? Will you participate in it? Will you step outside your comfort zone to make something happen like that little girl did?

If you do, you just might become the kind of person your neighbors and fellow hangar tenants admire in a whole new way.

And some young new flight student might just speak of you in hushed, reverent tones.