I attended my first formal shooting lesson as an adult in 2012. Since then I’ve attended over 800 hours of training, almost entirely on my own time and dime. While there have been some highs and lows regarding the quality of training, I’ve always stuck around until the end of class. That is until recently. Earlier this year I walked out of class early for the first time. Let us look at what led to me bowing out before finishing the course.
First let’s take a look at the class itself. The instructor is nationally known, having been on the scene at high levels for a few decades now. I had not trained with this instructor before, but I was familiar with his work, and wanted to get into class with him while he was still actively teaching. The course itself was billed as a two day pistol/carbine class, with a focus on armed citizens responding to mass casualty attacks.
We had seven students on the line, including myself. One older gentleman had never taken a formal class before, but most students seemed familiar with each other and had trained together before with local instructors. In addition to our lead instructor, we had six assistant instructors; a husband/wife team with their teenage son and the wife’s father, along with two gentlemen with military and LE backgrounds. That put us at a 1:1 ratio of students and instructors for class. The most I’ve ever seen, but I wasn’t upset to see such significant coverage.
I won’t talk much about gear selection as this isn’t a formal AAR, however some detail should be useful. Virtually everyone on the line used some form of AR for their rifle, except for one SCAR-L. Instructors reflected the same, with one Springfield Hellion, and one AK. Optics included various red dots, a couple LPVOs, and iron sights. White lights were mostly Olight variety, which caused some issues. Two shooters had suppressors, which didn’t play well with how their lights were configured, completely obscuring the target area.
Pistols were mostly 9mm striker fired, polymer frames, with one 357SIG Glock in a student’s hand, and a 40S&W in an AI’s. Pistols included Glock, SIG P365, LTT Beretta 92’s, Springfield Echelon, and S&W M&P 2.0. A couple shooters had optics on their pistols, including the SIG Romeo0 on the P365, and Holosun offerings. Holsters were mostly OWB, with cover garments over them. One shooter transitioned from AIWB to a fanny pack for the second day.
I carried a Glock 48 with a Holosun 407K in a KSG Armory Lexington at AIWB. My rifle is a DDM4V7 with an Aimpoint PRO, Modlite PLH and Surefire remote switch, and Magpul Pro BUIS, supported by a Vicker’s sling. Spare ammunition was carried in a Raven Concealment Copia, and an Esstac angled pistol pouch.
Generally speaking, I had high expectations going into class. This instructor had come highly recommended to me by a variety of peers and mentors, and I was fairly excited to see him in his element. I hadn’t heard any negative feedback or criticism of this instructor leading up to class. Of course I didn’t expect to agree with everything said or taught, as there are always differences of opinion here and there. I certainly didn’t expect what was to come.
In passing, I made a comment about training with this individual to another national level instructor through text as I pulled into town the night prior to class. This person’s response was short, “Watch his muzzle discipline”. I replied something to the effect of “I don’t know if I should be worried or excited”, which prompted a laugh and no clarification. Curious, but not alarming.
As I said previously, this isn’t a formal AAR or course review. With this in mind, I won’t be doing a deep dive on class structure, subjects covered, finer points of instruction, etc. Instead I’ll hit some high and low points, and call out things which led to me deciding to walk out early.
Before class an invitation to breakfast with the instructor was sent out, which I attended. He paid for our meals, which was appreciated, then we made our way to the range. Class starts with introductions, safety considerations, and a medical briefing. Myself and another shooter stand out as having a fair bit more experience than most students, and one shooter has never attended formal training before. We move to the firing line to quickly have our drawstroke and holstering process checked with dry guns by instructors. Live fire starts shortly after this.
The safety briefing is an underrated part of most classes, and luckily I’m beginning to see it get the attention it deserves. Unfortunately this class had a very unique take on one of the Four Rules. Specifically “Rule Two” came up repeatedly. Traditionally this is written as something like “Never let the muzzle cover anything you aren’t willing to kill or destroy.”
Our instructor read said rule, then almost verbatim said that Rule Two is bullshit, that you will definitely cover people with your muzzle, and to get used to it. This was reinforced by his ready position, which effectively covers anyone and anything in front of you. Think almost like John Wick’s Center Axis Relock, with the muzzle parallel to the ground, hands nearly touching your Solar Plexus.
Any attempt to deviate the muzzle up or down was immediately and aggressively “corrected”, with comments about keeping the gun in the fight abound. This is the case during shooting, reloads, post engagement sequences, and more.
Almost immediately some things start standing out to me as atypical or less than safe. One of these is the method of press checking our pistols taught by the instructor. Essentially he has us obtain a firing grip with our dominant hand, then reach our support hand near the muzzle to retract the slide, pinning it rearward by pinching the barrel with our thumb and index finger, then breaking our firing grip to physically check the chamber.
All shooters were required to do this with both empty and loaded guns. I performed this once with an unloaded gun, then told the AI checking me that I would not be doing it again. Instead I showed her a different technique taught by Gunsite Academy, which she seemed to really like, and told me it was okay to use. When moving to live fire practice of the press check, a different AI told me not to deviate from the material taught by the instructor, despite receiving approval from another AI. I told him that I would not be using their method, and he begrudgingly accepted then moved on.
Each string of fire in class is treated as a real engagement, requiring a “scan and assess” sequence before firing again. Students bring their gun to the ready position, continuously move laterally, perform a reload with mandatory slide rack, look around and in front of them, then bring the gun to Sul while fully turning around to check behind themselves. The gun does not go away until being told to do so, though about half the time the command doesn’t actually happen.
Our AI’s demonstrate the Post Engagement Sequence for us. In general I don’t think is a bad idea to check yourself, those in your care, and for others in the area such as threats or responding law enforcement. What I do find strange is how overly exaggerated the movements are shown to be. AI’s get up on their tip-toes to look in front of them, then dip down deeply as they turn about, big leans are made from side to side. Almost like a chipmunk looking around for a nut or place to sit.
It seems more like a kata, similar to the side to side “scan and assess” wiggle that was popular about a decade ago. Folks going through the motions rather than being deliberate. You may move more with the real world’s context, but pretending to do so on the flat range is silly.
In most classes it seems like the instructors want to know where people are, especially when guns are in play. This was not the case here. Students were free to come and go from the line without interacting with instructors. Guns were free to come in and out of cases or holsters in the parking lot, to include loading and unloading without supervision. Several times students wandered off with each other to check out their gear between cars, drawing guns, pressing triggers, and more.
Full disclosure, I did clear a rifle on a side berm when taking an AK from an AI who struggled to perform an administrative task with their slung gun. This was done to stow the gun in their vehicle to avoid carrying two rifles in addition to my other gear.
While no accidents occurred, it was a bit odd to turn around and see folks flopping guns around behind the line.
Back in 2021, John Johnston said something to class that stuck with me. We were plagued with student’s continual sidebars and comments, which kept stopping class or drawing out breaks. This led to us missing out on some material in order to stay within the time limits of class. John referred to distracting sidebar conversations as “stealing time from yourselves.” That it was us who paid to be here, and it was up to us to determine how we spend our time. This phrase continually popped into my head during this class.
On the first day of training alone (we’re still talking about Day One), sidebars accounted for approximately 90 minutes of class time. These include rabbit holes generated by staff, not just the students. One AI in particular gave a more than 10 minute meandering introduction which repeatedly had me thinking “What the fuck are you talking about right now, and why are you on the the verge of tears?”. This class cost us over $800 in tuition, not including travel, lodging, ammunition, and more. Chatting is fine, but spending over an hour off-topic, outside of breaks, is not acceptable.
After the start of class, our lead instructor informed us that we would be shooting until approximately 10PM that night. Low light was not mentioned in the course description or information passed along after enrolling. As far as we knew, we’d be leaving somewhere between 4-6PM, as is fairly typical. Nobody had brought food or drink to stay on the range that long, and going into town wasn’t feasible.
Luckily, one of the AI’s left to pick up pizzas for us, which was appreciated. Those of us with cash on hand pitched in to help cover. However, this was clearly not planned, as the lead instructor was taken by surprise at the arrival of food, and seemed slightly frustrated to have to break class for an extended time to eat. Shooting didn’t wrap until about 10PM, and I didn’t leave the range until after 11PM due to helping clean and pack up for the night. It was an additional 45 minute drive from the range to hotels afterwards, further extending the unplanned long night. Our lead instructor left for his hotel before cleanup was complete, leaving it to the AI’s and some students.
I left day one of class feeling frustrated and disappointed, texting my wife that class was seeming like a waste of my time and money. Despite that, I still had an open mind, consciously trying to remain positive and participatory. The students were very motivated, growth minded, and reasonably safe themselves. I re-read my notes that night at the hotel to see if I was being overly dramatic, but they only reinforced my thoughts. I had other complaints, such as low accuracy standards, some outdated information, and more, but those were all of lesser concern than what is stated above.
Finally I prepped my gear for Day Two, got cleaned up, and went to bed a after Midnight. Class would start around 9AM the following day.
Much like day one, day two began with a breakfast with some students. The start time for this was unclear, resulting in a fairly wide delta of arrival and departure times of students. Once we got to class it was largely more of the same from the previous day. More weird rants and sidebars, questionable safety practices, and so on. However, things got worse as the day progressed.
This one is not a huge deal, but I think a good microcosm of the rest of class.
One student had difficulty putting rounds where she wanted them to go. Her gun was a SIG Sauer P365 with a Romeo0 optic on top. Around lunch of Day Two, said student finally got asked why they couldn’t hit their target offhand at 40 yards. Without checking her performance, the lead instructor immediately diagnosed this as a failure of her optic, and directed an AI to zero the gun.
The AI took a single shot at 40 yards, walked down range, and agreed that it was the optic which had failed. He then said that he took his shot with the irons, because he doesn’t like optics, so clearly the gun isn’t the problem. The rest of the staff agreed. I responded that there was no way they could know if the dot was improperly zeroed if they weren’t using it to make said shot, that a single round likely isn’t enough to diagnose any problems, and that based upon the student’s marksmanship leading up to that point it was likely just her skill level preventing her from hitting the target.
The AI’s deliberated a little bit, all agreeing that they didn’t quite know how to zero an optic on a pistol. I offered to do it myself and show them the process, which was rejected. Instead the cadre took the gun to a side berm, slaved the reticle to the front sight, and handed it back to the student.
In the morning of Day Two I had to stop our lead instructor and AI’s from starting someone on a live-fire scenario while people were down range. This was the second instance of me having to stop this from happening, with one example happening on the previous day.
There were several yards of lateral separation between the shooter and those down range, and no guns had been drawn. Our lead instructor was prepping a student to shoot, ensuring they understood the course and that their gear was good, giving an equivalent of the “Are You Ready?” command. No AI’s, nor the instructor noticed anyone was down range on either instance. If any students noticed, none spoke up.
These were treated very casually by the entirety of the class. An “Oh, thanks”, and that’s about it.
It was at this time that I first seriously considered walking away from class. I sought the counsel of a mentor through text to get his opinion on the subject. He directly asked why I hadn’t left yet, and what would cause me to do so.
I told him I was considering it. So far nobody had been muzzled, nobody had shot at times they weren’t supposed to, gun handling was generally decent, equipment was safe. My awareness didn’t make up for the instructors, but it was helping. At this time I was at “I wouldn’t recommend this, and would likely suggest people not attend”. Not an “I must go.”, yet, but an “I might go.”
I took a break, gathered myself, and headed back to the line.
Less than an hour later, I decided to leave. The final straw was possibly the most egregious safety issue.
In short, the drill involved firing one round with a rifle, transitioning to pistol, engaging two targets with your pistol, lateral movement, holster your hot pistol, reload the rifle and engaging a final target. Distances ranged from contact to 40 yards. I went first, then hung back to watch shooters.
About halfway through, our newcomer saddled up to the line. When transitioning back to rifle on the move, this student repeatedly and violently stabbed his Glock towards the holster. I watched as the muzzle hit the side and mouth of the holster, his magazine pouches, the side of his abdomen, and more. His open front shirt continuously flapped around, repeatedly getting caught between his pistol and gear.
During this time instructors are yelling at him to stay in the fight, get that fucking gun back up, reload that fucking gun, keep moving, don’t look down, keep your eyes on the threat, etc. I yell out for everyone to stop, and that the student “is going to fucking shoot himself!”. One AI looks at me, chuckles a bit, and turns back away. Nobody else responds. Luckily nobody gets hurt, and the student completes the drill.
I wasn’t happy to be there, didn’t feel like I was getting anything out of it, and that it was becoming unsafe with no sign of concern from the instructors. The train of thought that kept running through my head was “What is making me stay here?” Why would I hang out here for another half day instead of going home to be with my family? I couldn’t think of any positives aside from a little bit of trigger time and being able to say that I finished the class. Neither of those things actually matter. Standing around, getting increasingly frustrated is not a good use of my time
After this incident, I take a short break, follow up with family and a mentor, a start packing up. I decide that things probably aren’t going to improve, and that staying for another 2-5 hours is not a productive or healthy use of my time. In total, I am in class for 16 hours between the two days, so I feel that I’ve given things a fair shot.
I approach the lead instructor while students and AI’s are down range scoring targets. I tell him that I have to leave, thank him for his time, and shake hands. He says he’s sorry to see me go, and appreciated having me in class. Then we part ways. I head back to the hotel, clean up, pack, and start the drive home about 18 hours early.
I will give credit to one of the AI’s. During Day Two we began getting impacts on our range from another bay. Myself, an AI, and another student witnessed several impacts just in front of our line. Said AI decided to investigate the other bays to try and find the culprit before anyone got hurt. Another class had steel targets against a side berm, causing students to shoot in our direction. These steel targets were angled backwards, instead of downward, ramping bits of bullets onto our range.
Our AI was able to convince this other instructor to rearrange things on their bay after some deliberation. This ended the problem with little fanfare, and few others noticed until it was mentioned by the AI on a break.
On my way home from class and over the following weeks I discussed this experience with some friends and mentors. There was a lot to process, and outside opinions were more than welcome to help figure out what I’d just sat through. Responses varied a little, mostly regarding what my follow-up should be. Some folks want a barn-razing burndown of the cadre, in an attempt to stop anyone from ever training with them again or to hopefully drive positive change on their part. Others take a more measured response, some prioritizing my reputation among the greater community with general silence.
I understand both positions. My thoughts here are to articulate something that I’ve never done before: leaving a class early. I’ve definitely seen some sketchy ranges that made me consider packing up early, but actually following through is new. Walking through my thought process and the series of events that led to this are important. It’s a big deal to walk out on training. There’s a lot of time and money invested, and maybe something good will happen if you stay. You may have concerns of looking like a coward, or weak, or some other negative opinions of those in class or who may find out you left early.
A common phrase in our world is “Don’t go to stupid places, doing stupid things, with stupid people, at stupid times.” In this case, I’d say at least two of these criteria were checked off. If we wouldn’t do this in public, why would we do anything different when surrounded by a bunch of strangers with guns? If something bad happened, especially to you, and you didn’t take the opportunity to walk away beforehand, you’d likely regret it.
There’s no shame in cutting your losses and pulling chalks. The money is already spent, but I can get some of my time back. You’ll also save on frustration, and potentially avoid injury. That’s a win in my book. If you’re ever in a situation like this, I highly recommend taking inventory of your circumstances. If the thought of leaving is crossing your mind, then it might be time to do just that. You’re here for yourself, not other students, not the instructors, and not the peanut gallery. Do what’s right for you.
It was extremely frustrating and disappointing to have this experience. I spent a good chunk of change getting to class, and took multiple days away from my family. I was pretty excited to see this instructor teach in person, and the reality was a bummer. Now I feel like I need to vet “proven” instructors with those I trust before paying tuition if I’ve never trained with them before.
On the positive side, this allowed me to grow, a crossing of the Rubicon of sorts. I’ve left class before, so doing it again shouldn’t be such a big deal. Ideally I never have to leave again, but now there’s a sort of standard in place. Hopefully this all helps you if you’re ever in a similar situation, but I hope you never need it.
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