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“There’s a little fear involved,” Andrew Marshall ('26) says. 

When the red button is pressed, the room goes quiet. 

Inside Embry-Riddle’s Advanced Flight Simulation Center, a single red switch cuts power to a full-flight simulator—screens, avionics, motion systems, computers. In one instant, everything goes dark. 

A multimillion-dollar training system. Offline. 

The shutdown is routine. It is also unforgiving. If one system fails to restart, training stalls. Instructors wait. Student pilots are grounded. 

Standing nearby, checklist in hand, are simulation techs like Marshall. 

The center houses full-motion airline and general aviation simulators used for pilot training, system testing, emergency procedures, and research in human performance and aviation safety. 

It is one of the most technically demanding instructional environments on campus. It is also where Marshall has spent nearly four years learning how complex systems fail—and how to prevent that failure. On the job, he maintains equipment, troubleshoots issues, and monitors feedback from certified flight instructors long after most classrooms are empty and the flight line is quiet. 

“Not one day is the same,” he says. “It changes so much.” 

Some shifts are quiet. Others begin the moment he walks through the door. 

“Some days you sit down,” he says. “Other days you’re working before you drop your bag.”

From Tools to Takeoff

Long before he touched a simulator, Marshall was learning how systems behave. 

He grew up on Long Island working in his father’s construction business, surrounded by hand tools and half-finished projects. 

“I’d go in with him as a kid,” he says. “That’s where it started.” 

By high school, he was working as a bicycle mechanic, learning how small failures could ripple through an entire machine—a loose cable, a misaligned gear, one overlooked part. 

It taught him to think in systems. 

At home, he installed Microsoft Flight Simulator X on the family computer. 

“That’s when I realized I might actually like flying,” he says. 

At the Jones Beach Air Show, he stepped inside a small trailer housing a flight simulator. He flew while an instructor watched and his father stood outside, eager to get back to the warbirds overhead. 

When Marshall finished, the instructor told his father, “You’ve got to get this guy in the air.”

Finding the Right Altitude

Marshall arrived at Embry-Riddle focused on flight. As he worked toward his ratings, another realization took hold. 

“I realized I do so much stuff mechanically,” he says. “Why not align that with something I enjoy?” 

He switched to pursuing a Bachelor of Science in Aviation Maintenance Science. 

During a campus tour, he discovered the university’s simulation facilities. 

“I was a kid in a candy store,” he remembers. “I couldn’t stop looking.” 

Within weeks, he applied for a student technician position. 

“If it’s open,” he told himself, “I’m taking it.” 

He was hired soon after.

A Classroom That Never Closes

Today, Marshall spends up to 29 hours a week in a facility that includes multiple aircraft simulators, including a full-flight regional jet system used in professional airline training. 

His responsibilities range from preventive maintenance to real-time repairs. 

“If an instructor calls and says a button isn’t working,” he says, “we look at the manuals and fix it.” 

Preventive inspections happen weekly, monthly, and annually. But unexpected failures are inevitable. 

On one shift, a major computer system stops responding. On another, he helps perform a complete emergency power shutdown—the procedure that brings him back, mentally, to the red button. 

Every step is documented. Every restart is verified. Every decision is traceable. 

Systems fail. 
Systems recover. 
Training continues. 

It is professional aviation maintenance—conducted by students.

Learning Through People

Marshall credits his development to mentorship and structured training. 

“I felt like I was applying my knowledge,” he says. “Work and class went hand in hand.” 

Courses in transport systems and avionics reinforce what he sees on the job. Supervisors and senior technicians guide him through increasingly complex procedures. 

Over time, Marshall begins training others. 

“I love training new hires,” he says. “They’re as happy as I was when I first started.” 

Knowledge circulates. Responsibility expands. Standards become professional.

Building a Better System

During his tenure, Marshall has helped redesign how technicians are trained. 

“We created a program that standardizes and streamlines training,” he says. 

Working with full-time staff, he helped migrate procedures, manuals, and instructional materials into a centralized system, giving new hires a clearer pathway into technical work. 

It is an uncommon role for a student employee: shaping institutional practice from the inside.

The Door Most Students Miss

Many students never see the simulation center. 

“People go four years here and don’t know it exists,” Marshall says. 

They walk past the building. They pass its doors. They never see the systems inside. 

For students interested in technology and applied engineering, simulator maintenance offers a parallel runway—one that blends computing, electronics, and systems management. 

Some find it. Most don’t.

Preparing for the Profession

As his 2026 graduation approaches, Marshall is focusing on avionics and electrical systems. 

“I’m very systems oriented,” he says. “I think about how everything is supposed to function.” 

His minor in avionics line maintenance reinforces the connection between theory and practice. 

“I was finally able to apply the knowledge,” he says. “That’s very special.” 

With nearly four years of hands-on experience on advanced, FAA-certified simulators, he enters the job market with professional familiarity long before most graduates touch comparable equipment. 

He understands not just how systems work—but how they fail. And how they return.

After the Lights Come Back On

Raul Rumbaut, a mentor who manages the Advanced Flight Simulation Center, offers a reality check on the red button scenario. 

“The red Emergency Power Off button is rarely activated by a crew member,” he says. “Our support staff tests it yearly to ensure it will work in an emergency. Whether it’s an Easy-Bake Oven or a multimillion-dollar full-flight simulator, there’s always that chance.” 

After a shutdown, power returns in stages. 

Systems reboot. Screens glow. Data streams resume. 

One by one, the simulator comes back to life. 

Most students never know how close those systems can come to going dark. 

Marshall does. 

Even as an undergraduate, he is one of the people making sure they don’t have to.