The Shock of Puzzlement and Perplexity
Early reflections on year two
I stumbled upon a recommendation for the book, so I Kindled-up and downloaded How to Read a Book by Mortimer J. Adler and Charles Van Dore. It’s too early for me to pass on my own recommendation, but in the first chapter, I read the following excerpt that put into words a feeling I’ve been having recently but haven’t found the words to describe:
Otherwise, we would have felt the shock of puzzlement and perplexity that comes from getting in over our depth— that is, if we were both alert and honest.
The quote’s context is about allowing yourself to accept the premise that the author of a book you’re reading may have more understanding about a subject than you do, which when accepted will lead you to this type of shock which you must move through to receive their new understanding as your own.
We’re now over a quarter of the way through year two of our work in Rwanda at VVA. This year, with the additional responsibilities that Bekah and I have taken on intentionally or circumstantially, I’d (totally unscientifically) estimate what feels like a 5x increase in the stress on our family.
The workload of being an administrator of the school has been high for me, as I’ve been using my background in technology to enhance systems at the school such as the way the House system works, the way student report cards are generated, and the way the school-wide timetables are generated. So far, those efforts have yielded good fruit in helping to improve school efficiency and have also benefitted me personally as a means to scratch the itch of having some fun writing and integrating software.
I avoided taking on teaching new-to-me Math classes this year to help keep my workload from becoming too overwhelming, sticking with the 6, 7, 8 Maths and Algebra classes I taught last year. This was a great strategy; however, the incoming Grade 6 class is the largest middle school class so far and also has demanded significant attention to address behavior-related issues as the students are slowly adjusting to the expectations of secondary school.
Bekah has a similarly increased load on her plate as she is teaching a full schedule (she taught part-time last year because John Valor was in preschool). Her toughest bits these days are trying to organize and develop the high school Physical Science course during the year, as there isn’t a well-structured existing curriculum that she’s been able to use. She’s also teaching the Grade 10 geometry course, so she’s having to get caught back up on those skills, too. Do y’all remember doing Propositional Logic with Venn Diagrams back in high school geometry? There’s just something about those three circles.
The amount of work we’re doing is great though when combined with the other full-time job of being parents, things are starting to fray at the edges. When Bekah and I recently had some time to sit down together after getting the kids to bed last Sunday night, we had a conversation that we’d needed to have for a while. Among other things we shared honestly with each other, Bek said “people keep saying ‘I hope you got some good rest’ and it’s driving me kind of crazy because it’s like basically impossible to rest when you have 3 kids”. Resting is hard when we’re both constantly cycling between the teacher job and the parent job.
Thankfully, at just the right time little graces arrive, perfectly timed to keep things moving in the right direction and to lift us up. A good friend of mine gave me an unexpected call yesterday to talk about a big life decision he’s contemplating and to check in with me, which turned into a longer and really encouraging conversation. I had a great teacher coaching conversation with Andrea M. this week as well that gave space for me to share some of the things I’ve been feeling and she was very supportive. We had a video call with a former missionary to Mozambique, Alan H., who also gave us useful guidance on ways to lay “bricks of time in heaven” by observing Sabbath rest in helpful and really practical ways.
Yes, the responsibilities and pressures we have on our family are elevated, but don’t take away from this post that they are so high that we’re on a crash course for burnout or frustration. No, that’s not how I see it right now. Right now I’m seeing it as that earlier quote suggests— the shock of puzzlement and perplexity of being out of our depth. It’s easy for me to admit that neither I nor Bekah have been in a situation like this before, and we are clearly out of our depth. But the point of the book is an encouragement that the shock is part of the growth.
We both feel strongly that our purposes in Rwanda are for God’s glory and that He orchestrated the circumstances for us to be here and to do this work. If that’s the case, my convictions must lead me to the conclusion that He’s able to complete the work in us and give us what we need to do it. That moves me from a closed mindset to a growth mindset when I’m feeling that puzzled shock from our stressors— “How’s God going to work this one out?” “I’ve never seen any problem like this before, I wonder how he’s going to solve this one!”
I’ve leave you with one little anecdote from a recent experience I had. JV and I had an opportunity to have dude-time together as the girls and Bekah had an event to attend. We decided to go to a local pool to swim together and have fun. (Sorry, but apparently I only have significant life lessons when at a pool.) I recalled that a recent new member of my men’s fitness group, a guy we call “Psalms” in the group, shared with me that he didn’t know how to swim and wanted an opportunity to learn if I ever had time to teach him. I called Psalms up and he was free, so he joined JV and I to the pool to give it a go.
Psalms isn’t a huge guy, but he’s not a pushover either. He’s younger than me and pretty fit and has spent most of his life being responsible for himself. He shared with me that he’s effectively an orphan, born of an unexpected teenage pregnancy that led to family disunity and abandonment. Despite those obstacles, he’s made his way in life even though it hasn’t been (and currently isn’t) easy to support himself.
We get to the pool and all make our way into the too-cold water. JV immediately starts doing his JV things, living his best life shouting and doing cannonballs and making his “Hey daddy, look! A water wall shield!” splashes. But Psalms is incredibly nervous, it’s all over his face.
Having never taught anyone how to swim before, I start off trying to get him to learn to float. It takes only 1 minute of that for me to realize that he’s simply too afraid to even put his head under the water. He tells me that he feels this big fear around him and asks me what will happen to his ears if he goes under the water.
“Your ears will be alright, they won’t get hurt if you go under the water”.
”What about my nose? Will the water get stuck in my nose?”
”No, your nose will be fine. Hold it closed to be sure.”
”Let me see you do it.”
I give a quick, “1, 2, 3” and then dunk under for a second and pop back up. He looks less unsure. “Do it with me this time?” He nods. “1, 2, 3”. I pop down and when I come up his face isn’t wet. “I wasn’t ready,” he says. We try again. He joins me this time.
The slow progress of this exchange continues for about 10 more minutes, culminating in him being open to putting his full head under water but not being willing to do it himself. “You’ll have to help me, I can’t make myself do this. I’m too scared.” He holds out his arm and I take hold of him. “1, 2, 3”. I help force him down under the water completely, and he stays down for a good 3 seconds before popping back up. When he comes up, there’s a look on his face that’s both terror and relief mixed up together. Even though his face is wet, I think I can make out some tears there.
That look right there. That was the shock I’m talking about. He was completely out of control, over his head, doing something he knew in his heart he wanted to do— gaining a new skill but more importantly, conquering a fear he’d held on to for too long. He literally said to me in that very moment while shivering, “I can feel the fear, like, moving away from me”.
Love you all. Thank you for all of your prayers and encouragement. They mean the world to us!
Thom
P.S. I started a new teacher Instagram account to post pictures and videos from the experiences our family is having at VVA. You can find it at @thomatvva.