Every few years, riding instructors are told it’s time to reinvent how we teach.
New language appears. New methods gain traction. We’re encouraged to adapt—again—to how students “learn now.”
Visual learners. Kinesthetic learners. Emotion-first learners. Inquiry-based learners.
Horses, meanwhile, remain stubbornly uninterested.
They still respond to balance, timing, clarity, and fairness. They still react to inconsistency the same way they always have. And they still teach patience whether we plan for it or not.
It’s not that students don’t matter, but because good horsemanship doesn’t bend to educational trends.
Wanting an Explanation Is Not the Same as Knowing How to Think
It’s often said that modern students “want to understand why.” That sounds reasonable, and sometimes it’s true. But in practice, many students have never been taught how to ask meaningful questions or how to explain what they know. Or how to question what they think they know.
There’s a difference between:
- wanting an answer, and
- being able to reason through a problem.
Many riders instruction comes from repeated instructions, mimicking styles, and chasing the latest style in the show ring When asked why something works, or what changed when it didn’t, the confidence often disappears.
This isn’t a character flaw. It’s an educational gap. And the horse world doesn’t own it.
Good instruction doesn’t just provide explanations. It teaches riders how to connect cause and effect, how to notice patterns, and how to think their way through issues. That skill doesn’t come naturally. It has to be built.
critical thinking in riding
Asking thoughtful questions is not something students either “have” or “don’t have.” It’s something that can be deliberately taught.
Years ago, organizations like Pony Club understood this well. Riders were expected to explain what they knew out loud—during testing, and during competition. Oral exams weren’t about catching someone’s weakness; they were about learning to carry a discussion, articulate understanding, and go beyond surface answers.
That process created riders who could think under pressure, not just perform movements.
Inquiry worked because it was structured, expected, and accountable.
Also in the past, students rode a plethora of horses and had to learn how to adapt and change with different builds, gaits, temperaments, and situations. Riding a variety of horses taught riders to think.
Simply asking students how something “feels” is not enough. Without guidance, reflection becomes vague and unproductive. Critical thinking requires comparison, evaluation, and sometimes the discomfort of having to say, “I don’t know.”
Precision Matters More Than Big Words
In riding instruction, vague language does more harm than good.
We sometimes hear functional cues wrapped in scientific-sounding explanations—references to physics, biomechanics, or balance that aren’t quite accurate. Normally students don’t question these things because they sound important and they don’t understand what they mean. This doesn’t deepen understanding. It confuses it.
Not every riding correction needs a technical explanation. Many skills are learned through correct repetition first, understanding later.
Clear instruction builds trust. Overcomplication does not.
Encouragement Is Not the Same as Constant Reward
Breaking lessons into manageable pieces is good teaching. So is recognizing progress but they lose their value when everything has to be a win. No one, who has ridden for very long, believes every ride will be a success or filled with dopamine hits. Most of us know that we will learn from our hard days as well as we do on the good ones.
Growth also requires:
- repetition
- frustration
- time
Horses don’t offer instant feedback loops. They require riders accept the long processes. That’s not something to engineer away—it’s one of the most valuable lessons the barn offers.
Confidence that’s built on a practiced lasts longer than confidence built on constant affirmation.
Emotional Awareness Has Boundaries
Caring about the emotional tone of a lesson matters. So does caring about the horse.
But emotional intelligence is not the same as emotional insulation.
Learning to ride well involves correction, pressure, and being wrong—sometimes repeatedly. Horses don’t benefit from riders being protected from discomfort. They benefit from riders becoming clearer, steadier, and more accountable.
Kind instruction and high standards are not opposites. In fact, they depend on each other.
The Horse Is the Final Authority
At the end of the day, the horse doesn’t care how a rider prefers to learn.
He responds to what is, not what’s intended:
- balance or imbalance
- clarity or confusion
- fairness or inconsistency
Good instructors adapt their tools. They do not abandon reality.
We don’t need to chase generations or reinvent horsemanship every few years. We need to teach people how to think, how to take responsibility, and how to meet the horse where he already is.
Horses have been doing their part all along.
Til next time,
Barbara Ellin Fox
TheRidingInstructor.net