Becoming an Instructor
Nathanael A. Malley
Becoming an Instructor
I can’t remember the day, the month, or even the time of year when it happened. I don’t remember who I was with either. What I do remember is standing there in my black 5.11 boots, BDU pants, a dry-fit polo, and one of my hats.
I had been shooting with someone, sharing input from things I’d learned on YouTube and from a couple of shooters and instructors who had unknowingly put me on a fast track of marksmanship development. I was standing behind him, about two or three bodies back, observing his mechanics.
That’s when a woman turned to me and asked:
“Are you an instructor?”
I replied politely, “No ma’am, just here with a friend.”
She said, “You look like an instructor.”
I said thank you.
But internally, a light bulb went off.
Why am I not an instructor?
That single question changed the direction of my path.
The Search
After that session, I went home and started researching. I didn’t even know what I was looking for — just that I wanted to figure out how to become a firearms instructor.
Thankfully, Google exists.
Eventually, I discovered I could become a Concealed Carry (CCH) Instructor through the state by completing a two-day course and passing a qualification. If memory serves me right, the qualifier distances were 7, 10, and 15 yards, and you had to score 90% or higher to continue.
I signed up through USCCA.
Preparation
At that time, I was still early in my shooting journey. I had been shooting in a league at Pro Shots in Rural Hall — which I highly recommend. It was one of the best developmental decisions I made.
I also purchased a SIG P322 — an internal hammer .22LR pistol. I ran thousands of rounds through that gun. I didn’t always clean it the way I should have, but it taught me valuable lessons:
What happens when a firearm isn’t maintained
How to clear malfunctions
How to build reps affordably (at 1/5th the cost of 9mm)
Originally, I planned to qualify with it because I was nervous about the 15-yard line. I had struggled for a while keeping rounds inside what I jokingly called “the cantaloupe.”
But then came my first real commitment — what I call my first “lust and love” moment with pistols.
I bought a Canik Mete Competition Pro.
She will stay with me until I pass from this world.
That was the pistol I chose to qualify with — and I’m glad I did.
Day One
I arrived early. Very early. Probably too early.
I was eager, nervous, excited.
The class was held in the back office of Eagle 1. Tables were pushed together. A projector screen sat to the right. The light hit me straight in the eyes when it turned on.
Then came introductions.
The instructor — Joy Allen — started on the opposite side of the room. I would be last.
The first gentleman: 25 years on the police force.
Next: a woman already assisting in instruction.
Next: prior Marine.
Next: military contractor.
Next: current instructor.
Next: U.S. Marshal.
Next: retired SWAT — literally live-advising a barricade situation on his laptop via drone feed.
Next: four years on Vice.
Then it was my turn.
“I’m Nathanael Malley. I’m a manager with Allied Security. I have a conviction to help as many law-abiding citizens as possible become lawful gun owners.”
You could’ve heard a pin drop.
I was 255 pounds — the heaviest I had ever been. Minimal experience compared to the room. On paper, I was the lowest on the totem pole.
But I wasn’t there to impress anyone.
I was there to pass.
And I had trained hard.
The Moment
The first shooting day went well. I hollowed out a silhouette — at least by my standards at the time. Photos were taken.
The next morning, I was talking to Michael, one of the security company owners from Raleigh. I jokingly said I might come work for him.
He looked at Joy and said, “Networking.”
As I walked away, I overheard something.
Michael asked Joy, “Can he shoot?”
Joy replied, “He can shoot.”
Michael asked, “Better than me?”
Joy paused.
Then, in a softer, more serious tone:
“He can shoooot.”
That moment meant more to me than I can explain.
Because I am hard on myself. Extremely hard. My standards are aggressive. I rarely give myself credit.
But in that moment, Joy gave me something I couldn’t give myself:
Validation.
And with it came peace.
It also shaped how I want to instruct.
I want my students to feel capable.
I want them to believe in themselves.
I want them to experience earned confidence — not false praise, but real growth.
The Door Closed
I finished the two-day course. Passed.
Then I completed my CCH class with NC DOJ and became a concealed handgun instructor for the state.
Not long after, North Carolina closed the door on allowing new civilian instructors to come through under the old system.
I made it in — just in time.
Was it fortune? Timing? Meant to be?
Maybe.
What I know is this:
I wanted it.
I worked for it.
I took my shot.
And I didn’t miss.
That chapter became a defining part of who I am.
And I’m grateful I didn’t let that light-bulb moment fade.
.
“Always aim high. You won’t do it. But by aiming high, you will do much higher than if you aim low.” - Bruce Lee