By JAMIE SINDELL
As an adult rider a few kids ago, I spent 10 years with a trainer who cared far more about how I rode between the jumps than over them. At the time, I didn’t realize how rare that was. How lucky I was.
This trainer believed deeply in fundamentals that now feel almost old fashioned. Flat work you could feel in your shaky legs the next day. Straightness you could sense with your eyes closed. The correct use of aids instead of shortcuts. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t easy. But it worked. And only now, watching my own daughters come up in this sport, do I realize he was teaching me something the horse world may be losing.
What I remember most is his relentless focus on the basics. And it wasn’t just because I rode green horses. He believed every horse deserved an educated ride. Nothing was about checking boxes on the way to jumping bigger. Because of him, I grew to appreciate the flat work and looked forward to my flat-only lessons.
I also loved watching him ride, mesmerized by the way he made it all look so soft and effortless. Shoulder-in. Haunches-in. Lengthening. Shortening. Of course, it wasn’t effortless at all. It was thoughtful, demanding work. And he let me into that process. He talked while he rode, explaining what he was feeling and why he was asking for something. I could ask questions in real time. It was an education I didn’t fully appreciate until years later when he had transitioned to becoming a successful judge.
Eventually, I reached out to thank him. At the time, I didn’t understand how sacred that education was. And now, as a parent of young riders, that realization worries me. Because if that education mattered so much to me as an adult, it matters even more for children who are still learning who they are in the saddle. I want my girls to learn the kind of riding that lasts. The kind that builds a foundation instead of rushing past it.
Because too often now, I notice that work is missing. Or it’s happening without the rider. The professional gets on, tunes the horse up, puts everything in the right place, then hands the reins back to a kid who was never taught how to do any of it. Not out of malice, but because flatwork isn’t “exciting.”
What many riders don’t understand is that flatwork is horsemanship. It’s where you learn your horse’s body, their weaknesses and strengths, as well as your own. It’s where you build them up instead of wearing them down. Without enough of it, riders aren’t truly learning how to ride.
And I know there are trainers still doing it right. My oldest daughter rode with a professional who put real emphasis on flatwork, and it made a profound difference in her riding. There were days she came home disappointed that she didn’t jump enough, and I had to remind her that “riding isn’t all about jumping.” That focus made her a more sensitive rider, one who could adapt to different horses instead of needing everything perfectly set up for her.
More recently, two of my daughters rode in clinics with an old-school horsewoman who taught the same principles I learned as an adult. She believes in correctness. Transitions. Fundamentals. During one clinic, my 9-year-old’s young pony grew antsy while waiting her turn for a pole exercise. The clinician had her stand at the halt beside her while she taught. When the pony fidgeted, she reminded my daughter to insist that she stand and listen. The basics.
Watching my children work with someone who holds those standards reminded me how timeless they are. The girls left more aware of both their own bodies and their horses’. Proof that the fundamentals aren’t outdated, just undervalued by some parts of the industry.
Yes, this work still exists. But I also see programs rushing kids to move up and jump around, skipping the very foundation that would make them stronger riders in the long run. Because we all know that riders who are skilled on the flat are better over fences. They understand stride. They understand effective use of aids.
And flatwork isn’t just about better rounds. It’s conditioning that keeps horses sound and gives them longevity instead of pounding them into the ground.
That message matters deeply to me as a parent trying to teach her children that horses aren’t disposable. They aren’t toys we use until they break and replace with a shinier newer version.
If the argument is that riders need a better eye, poles and cavaletti do that work beautifully. I remember a two-day clinic I took with Richard Spooner. Though I was in the 3′ section, we hardly jumped. Instead, we rode courses of poles. It was hard. It was humbling. And it was effective. No one complained.
The problem is that our current lifestyle works against doing things the right way. It favors immediacy over patience. ChatGPT answers questions in seconds. Social media rewards quick wins and highlight reels. And that mindset has crept into riding. Get on. Jump around. Show. Repeat. As a mom, I see young riders absorbing that message.
But fast doesn’t make riders. And it doesn’t protect horses.
Parents are part of this conversation too. Many of us rely on professionals to guide our children, and rightly so. But we should ask questions, understand what our kids are being taught, and value the less Insta-worthy work as much as the big moments. Sometimes that means watching and learning from your kid’s flat lesson. Countering your kid’s desire to jump bigger. Encouraging your kid to watch pros ride. It isn’t always easy, especially when the culture around us rewards speed. But it matters.
If we care about the future of this sport, we need to keep it slow. We need to teach riders to value flat work, how to feel instead of chasing bigger jumps. We need to encourage clinics with dressage riders. And we need to stop treating fundamentals as optional or outdated.
Because when we teach riders to truly ride, we don’t just create better rounds. We raise horsemen and horsewomen who understand, respect, and protect the animals carrying them. And that responsibility belongs to all of us.
Jamie Sindell is a passionate equestrian blogger. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Arizona and a BS in Animal Science from Cornell University. She has ridden and owned hunters on and off throughout her life. She is a mom of five kids who range from ages 5-16. She and her family reside at Wish List Farm, where her horse-crazy girls play with their ponies. Her son and husband play with the tractor. You can follow her on Instagram @wishlistfarm
