FIRST PERSON : YOUNGER CHILDREN ARE REALLY NOT MEANT TO BE PILOTS.

Byline: Gloria Goodale

JESSICA DUBROFF is buried and the spotlight has moved on. But as the outcry over her death simmers down, there remains a movement afoot among younger fliers to encourage the Federal Aviation Agency to lower the minimum age for a pilot's license below the current 16 years.

I consider the possibility with open-mouthed astonishment. As one of five children who grew up being carted around in a succession of small planes by a father who was every inch the pilot, I know what pilots do and what kids do.

Believe me, they are not, and should not be, the same things.

The daily routine of a small plane pilot is far more mundane - and detail filled - than any child I've ever known could or should handle.

For instance, he (or she) is the one who drags the bathroom scale to the airport (as my dad faithfully did), puts it down on the tarmac, demands that everyone and everything be weighted. His plane must take off with the proper load. Nothing and no one is spared.

My dad made the decisions about what came on his plane and what stayed behind. An overloaded plane is hard to control. My dad had unquestioned authority when it came to tossing ballast, because we kids knew these were serious issues. Issues to be decided by an adult.

The pilot is also the one who drives out to the airport two hours before everyone else to stand and watch the cloud formations to decide for himself what's flying weather and what's grounding weather.

He is then the one who comes back to a restless family with the unenviable task of ordering them to stay another night in Zebulon, Ga. (or, say, Cheyenne, Wyoming) because the weather is dicey.

Not bad, not even raining - just dicey and when children are aboard, who takes chances? (And since 16 is still the minimum age for a driver's license, doesn't it ring any bells that we are suggesting that a person with this much responsibility must still ask his mother to drive him to the airport?)

It also falls to the pilot to calculate the technical adjustments necessary to take off at an airport with a different elevation than home; in Jessica's case, 6,000 feet higher than usual.

Airplanes operate much less efficiently in thin air, and every aspect of the flight must be adjusted from the length of take-off runway, to the rate of fuel burn off. These are technical calculations that involve say, a minimum of sixth grade math or higher.

I frequently watched my dad whizz around his circular slide rule calculating all sorts of figures, each of which was critical to a successful flight.

I also remember falling asleep in many a motel room while my dad pored over elevation maps, making sure he understood all the adjustments he'd have to make.

Which reminds me that it is also the pilot's job to know his own limitations and take care of his own needs first and foremost. When my dad was too tired to fly, he wouldn't go. He was the pilot. When he was rested, we'd continue.

In thinking about Jessica's story, these are the times that came to mind.

An eyewitness to the crash, a former pilot, commented that the plane appeared to be overloaded. If so, who let that happen? Unthinkable in the small plane universe I grew up in, where the pilot was responsible for all things.

Is it possible it was overlooked? If so, then by whom? Can you imagine a child commanding her father to leave his books behind?

Maybe it would have lessened the pressure to stay on schedule if she'd told him to leave the video camera her father had received from ABC News to document the trip.

Next, the weather. Jessica told her mom about driving rain as they were taking off. In the world of small planes that I know, there are few reasons to take off in driving rain, short of a genuine emergency. If she was the one who made that call, the tragic consequences speak for themselves.

But since, most certainly, she didn't, then why do all these supposedly well-meaning adults persist with the charade that she was the pilot?

Then, there's the elevation. Some kids might be able to handle the easy math, but what if it suddenly got more complicated than second or even sixth grade math?

And finally, a pilot's self-awareness. Jessica herself commented the day of the flight that she was tired, having had only ``two hours sleep'' the night before.

My father would have sent us to the local zoo for a six hour outing while he caught up, staying over a full day before he'd have taken off in such a condition.

Did Jessica have that option? Not if she was going to stay on her dad's cross country media schedule, she didn't.

Clearly, adults are not immune from lapses in good judgment. I remember once my dad put my nine-year-old older brother on his lap and took him out for a turn in the car. My mother nearly decapitated him when they got home.

He tried to tell my mom that he was in control at all times. But my mom knew better. She knew there are some areas that should be left for kids to dream about, and that to give them an illusion of control before they understand the consequences of control, is far more damaging than simply saying no.

Like any parent, she knew you don't tell a child, ``you've got wings, you can fly!'' because the child will feel obligated to jump off a cliff and try them out.

Which brings us to what kids can do in a plane. My dad understood the value of nurturing while not prematurely fulfilling a dream.

He would often let one of us sit in the co-pilot seat and help with chores such as reading maps and watching for other planes - just enough to make us feel important, but nothing that could cause any harm.

The Guiness Book of World Records dropped its youngest pilot categories in 1989 to discourage this sort of adventurism.

If I learned anything from two decades of flying with my dad it's this: flying is deceptively easy when everything is running smoothly. It can even look like child's play to some.

But when a 30-story black thundercloud pounds your tiny plane above the ocean, it will take all the seasoning, physical and emotional strength you've got to pull safely through that storm.

MEMO: Gloria Goodale is a Sherman Oaks freelance writer.

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Photo: (Color) Jessica Dubroff: too young to fly?

Associate d Press