By Peta McCartney

Being told to fall down, when you know skiing is all about staying balanced and upright, seems a weird way to begin a lesson. But it's the first thing we're told as we head out for our first run of the day at Canada's Big White resort in British Columbia's majestic Monashee ranges. Like toy soldiers, the boys in our class go down one after the other, winning ample praise from Rolly, our American instructor.
But four-year-old Courtney, the only girl in this class of four, remains unimpressed and determined to pretend she didn't hear him. For a few seconds it seems she'll get her own way, until Rolly approaches and good-naturedly pushes her over and enthuses "that's great!" before encouraging everyone back up on their skis.

I am just the innocent observer of what goes on when Mums and Dads leave their children at ski school for the day. It's interesting to observe the logic behind this vital first requirement, before we've even skied a hundred metres. As Rolly explains: "If these kids can't stand up on their own after they fall down, then they're in the wrong group and we'll have to change them to another." It makes sense; one child's lack of skill or confidence can hold a group up, making the lesson tiring and boring, which is something all instructors know to avoid. But these "Jumping Joeys" are up and raring to go, like any four-to-six year old in the program knows how - with plenty of high fives and roars of "yeah!" as we set off on the cruisy Serwa's run, a beautifully groomed green, but with plenty of pitch for these quick learners who love a bit of speed. Observing how a lesson progresses gives plenty of insight into why the smallest skiers on the mountain seem to be among the best. Lessons are fun. Local instructor Holly Kunster knows if they're not having fun, kids don't learn as quickly, or as well.

"The first thing we do is make them happy," she says. "If they're not happy, they're not receptive. If they're not receptive they're not going to learn anything and you're about to have the lesson from Hell."
The four children in our group, two locals, one from the UK and another from Hong Kong, all take turns following the leader, jumping, turning and gliding down the mountain like a multi-coloured
caterpillar. And this scenario takes place every day for scores of children guided by instructors who all seem to have a degree in child psychology. In fact, the instructor's program nowadays has a component in child behaviour, says Adelaide-born Ella Stewart, who takes our family of three out later in the week for a "Mom, Dad and Me" lesson. The one-on-one sessions are great for highlighting the skills children need to concentrate on to crack the next level of competency, while helping parents with their own teaching skills for the times when they all want to ski together.

Meanwhile, Rolly is full of praise and advice. The group lesson is broken by small bursts of activity, with regular pauses for assessment, observation, and instruction, most of which is conducted while he skis backwards. Occasionally, he must climb back up the hill to help someone who's fallen down, but is reluctant to pick them up. "It's important for the kids to learn how to get themselves up in all situations, so my job is to encourage them to do it themselves," Rolly explains, as Courtney twists her body and skis around to parallel so she can lever herself to the standing position. Later on the chair, the conversation turns to things other than skiing and Courtney explains how she once "vomited three times" during a flight to her parents' homeland of South Africa, her fall long forgotten as we head back to base for a well-deserved snack and hot chocolate. With their particular knack of making the most innocent anecdote a belly-laugh, it's part of the fun of the job flowing back to the instructors.

"Kids say the darndest things," says Rolly, grinning widely beneath his helmet and goggles, then smoothly guides his charges inside, where his fun factor ensures no-one knocks their drink over and the break is enough to charge everyone for another run before lunch. Big White's learning slopes are long, so there's plenty of time for regular breaks, and with trips back to base for lunch and snacks, not to mention the extra-curricular craft, drawing and maybe a little tv, the children at Big White don't have time to get tired of their learning programme. In fact, they often progress beyond parents' expectations, such is the combination of their own eagerness to learn and go fast, and the instructors' acknowledgement of their readiness for the next level via a reporting card system which attaches to their ski suit.
This keeps kids interested and enthusiastic. Theme days, where instructors and helpers dress in pyjamas or other outfits, just add to the mantra of keeping things fun. And there's plenty of activities after hours, if your little ones just aren't tuckered out or need a break, with carnival night - including free activities, popcorn, fireworks and a three-way race by the resort's three mascots - a highlight of the week; a tubing and skating park, horse-drawn sleigh rides, dog sledding and mini-skidoo rides. Children are keen to show off their skills when Mum and Dad come to pick them up at the end of their day and keen to head to the chair for the last runs of the afternoon. And that's fun for the whole family, even if you fall down.