In every test flight, there is a moment of suspended silence. The jet hums with data, the telemetry team watches from their consoles and Marko Ivankovic (’05) leans into the controls. His job isn’t to thrill at the experience but to spot the flaw in the process — the dot on the white sheet of paper, as he calls it. Most of us see the sweep of the page; Ivankovic, a flight test engineer, sees only the dot. That temperament, as much as his training, makes him indispensable in the cockpit.

From Runway Childhood to Riddle Roots

Ivankovic grew up in Eastern Europe, where his father flew at the local air club. His childhood meant airfields, model rockets and RC competitions. At fifteen, he flew gliders and parachutes. Skydiving became both entry point and passport — eventually carrying him to Florida.

There he discovered Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University. Hanging around DeLand’s drop zones, he met students from Daytona Beach who spoke of a program mixing theory with practice. “I was the last generation that enrolled in Aircraft Engineering Technology,” he recalls. Labs and prototypes, not just equations, gave him the spark: aviation as craft.

The Science of Flight, the Temperament of Calm

Today, Ivankovic is Lead Flight Test Engineer at Airbus in Montreal, working on the A220 experimental fleet. His team handles developmental and certification work — planning, safety and the high-stakes hours in the cockpit.

Test flights are equal parts science experiment and stress test. Calm is not optional. “It is essential that others can rely on you,” he says. Planning replaces adrenaline. If a flight gets “interesting,” he notes, “you’re probably doing something wrong.”

Some pilots fly with a lucky scarf. Ivankovic once carried his daughter’s hairpin. But mostly it’s procedural: checklists, crew roles, abort criteria. Focus replaces distraction.

Employers and Airplanes

His first professional break came in Germany. Then Bombardier in Montreal, where he helped guide the CSeries (now A220) from prototype to passenger service. Later Bell Flight, expanding into rotorcraft. He also joined the board of Icarus Aerospace, a Canadian startup with defense concepts like the “flying Humvee,” now stalled.

Bombardier honed his skills in certification, Bell broadened his scope and Icarus fed his appetite for concepts. Airbus, his current home, lets him see a program he once nurtured under one logo thrive under another.

First Flights and Black Swans

Most pilots fly proven aircraft. Ivankovic thrives on what happens before. He’s participated in four first flights—moments equal parts milestone and spectacle.

He recalls the high point: envelope expansion, proving an aircraft can hold together at design speed. Few engineers ever get the chance; he’s had several. “The stars really aligned,” he admits.

There have been black swans too: engine failures, a tail strike in New Mexico. Ivankovic doesn’t dramatize them. His job is to analyze and improve. Flight testing, for him, is less about the story to tell than the report to file.

Hours on the Ground, Minutes in the Sky

For every three-hour test flight, there are days of planning, data analysis and safety reviews. Most weeks he might fly nine hours total. The rest is preparation. “If you’re not ready to put in 55 to 60 hours a week,” he says, “maybe you should reconsider.”

Still, the grind brings satisfaction. “Every day, I can say I moved the project a little bit forward,” he reflects.

The Next Dot

Ivankovic’s pattern is the pursuit of dots: the anomaly others might miss. “There’s a really nice sheet of white paper and one small dot in the middle,” he says. “I’m going to see that dot, and I’m going to see that dot only.”

That focus makes him a valued collaborator to engineers, but also a guardian and skeptic, ensuring that when an aircraft enters service, it’s less likely to surprise its pilots — or its passengers.

Back to Embry-Riddle

This year marks twenty years since Ivankovic graduated from Embry-Riddle. He still speaks with pride of being part of the last cohort in aircraft engineering technology.

At every stop — Bombardier, Bell and Airbus — he’s run into fellow alumni. “We’re everywhere,” he laughs. In a business where trust is currency, those shared roots form a reunion in motion.

Embry-Riddle trained him to look for the dot. Airbus now pays him to never ignore it.