TO QUESTION OR NOT TO QUESTION: IS THAT THE QUESTION?

I read an interesting article recently about people feeling judged unfairly for asking questions on things they didn’t understand. I’m not sure if I was having an off day (okay, maybe they are all off, who knows?), but I reacted strongly to the message. I went down to the kitchen and told Ann about it, complete with righteous indignation and all of the feelings of superiority that come with it.

Thank heavens that I am not a huge social media monkey who would have tweeted and texted my ranting and raving. I’m grateful for that cool down period where I get to think about things calmly and rationally.

How different would things be if everyone had to count to ten, or 100, before hitting send?

At any rate, I realized that I was exactly who the article was complaining about.

Okay, so was I right or were they?

The more I thought it through, the more I came to understand that actually we both were.

We’ve all been in a math class at one time or another where the teacher is going step by step through the problem and coming to the solution at the end, only to turn around and have the entire class looking back at her with dumbfounded expressions. Right?

The teacher patiently (or not so patiently) begins again, more slowly this time, and turning around for questions all the way through. Slowly, one by one, the light turns on and a dawning expression appears on the faces of the class.

That experience is not so bad because we as a class were all in it together. We didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense. As one, we went back and questioned, reasoned, and found a way to understand.

But I think we have all had the experience where the teacher gets done with the problem, turns around and finds every member of the class nodding in agreement.

All except me. I am the only one who doesn’t understand. The class doesn’t have time to stop and wait for me to see what everyone else is seeing. We have to move on.

But I still don’t get it.

And unless I am able to stay after class with the teacher, or get a peer to help me while on the bus ride home, or have Mom or Dad help me that night to get caught up, then the next day I walk back into class behind.

And I kind of stay there.

Because when everyone understands the next lesson, but I don’t because the pieces aren’t fitting together, then I am twice as behind. And so on, and so on.

Pretty soon it is easier to just daydream during the class. Then I gravitate to the back of the class where others who got left behind are sitting. Before long we are passing notes rather than listening and laughing about the teacher and the other “brainiacs” who are just big nerds.

Then the next year I am in a lower level math class with the same kids from the back of the class the year before, and we gravitate to the back because that is where we are comfortable, and we just start the year off talking and passing notes rather than listening.

Because now that is just what I do in math class.

Dreams of becoming an engineer or a scientist slip through my grasp. Which is too bad, because I really wanted to be an engineer or a scientist.  

All because I had a question that I didn’t understand the answer to.

Going back it seems that the tipping point happened that first day when I was the only one with the confused look on my face. That was the point that I needed to yell “Stop!” and find the desired help so that I could move forward the next day.

One day of extra effort could have made all the difference.

Why didn’t I ask?

Remember my reaction when I read that article about people feeling judged when they asked a question that others seemed to already understand?

That’s why.

How much patience do we have for people who struggle with things that come so easily and naturally to us? How much compassion? How much understanding?

So, from that perspective, those who wrote the article had a really valid point. Sincere, honest questions must be confirmed and patiently listened to so that understanding and acceptance can be had by all, not just the few who got it the first time.

Let’s go back to our imaginary math class.

What if I walk in each day and I just keep asking the same question “That doesn’t make sense to me. I think that equation should have the answer of 4, not 10. How can you be so sure that it is 10?”

In math, we agreed to accept certain theorems and corollaries so we could move on and get to the heart of the lesson. We didn’t try to prove again and again these theorems and corollaries.  

I can remember times when I just had to accept that what they were telling me would work, then follow the steps, and trust that I would get the answer.

And sure enough, eventually, I would come to my own understanding of the process. But I had to accept that someone smarter and better trained than I was knew what they were talking about.

But to get there, I had to trust and just do for a while.

And then it made sense to me.

In that way, my quick-to-judgment response to the article had some validity.

We are in a far more important and serious type of math class now.

When we do understand and others do not, we have the responsibility to return with patience and compassion. After all, the day will come when they understand and we don’t.

When we don’t understand, we have the responsibility to ask the questions and keep going until we find the answers. When we give up, we only hurt ourselves. How badly do I really want to become that engineer?

When we get stuck on a question that seems to block us from seeing the rest of the lesson, it may be time to look at who is teaching. Do we trust them? Can we just accept, apply, and continue on in the hope that someday we will understand?

Maybe the point is not whether or not we should ask the question.

Maybe the point is, why are we asking the question?

Are we asking because we sincerely want to know the answer, whatever it is? Or do we want the answer to be what we want it to be, so we keep asking in hopes that eventually the answer changes?  

Are the questions I’m asking helping me become that scientist? Or are they actually keeping me from becoming the scientist I want to be?

Truth comes when we ask questions. But it doesn’t change when we don’t like the answer.