In diving education, the word “standard” tends to carry very positive associations. It suggests order, safety, and predictability, as well as the reassurance that a qualification issued in one place should broadly mean the same thing as the same qualification issued several thousand kilometres away. At least in theory.
Solo diving is one of those subjects where the discussion often ends before it has properly begun, because merely saying the word “solo” is usually enough for someone to point out that diving should take place within the buddy system. It is difficult to disagree, at least until we begin asking the less comfortable questions about what that buddy system looks like in practice, what it actually involves, and whether the person swimming several metres away is genuinely our buddy or simply another diver who happens to be in the same part of the water.
Once again, the diving community is discussing how many students a single instructor can genuinely train effectively underwater. Different numbers are being proposed, while standards, experience and different training models are being compared. Ultimately, however, the question is very simple: at what point does a training group stop being a training group and become a crowd that the instructor is merely trying to keep under control?
You complete the courses. You pass the examinations. You spend years gaining experience, investing in equipment, building your reputation and accepting full responsibility for the people you train. Congratulations. You are now an instructor. Well, almost.
