Learning Another World

George and I entered an educational system that did not line up neatly with the one we had left. The Leaving Certificate demanded serious preparation, and we had roughly eighteen months to complete work that normally occupied much longer. School uniforms, manners, terminology, and expectations all reminded us that English-speaking countries could still be profoundly different.^[1]

I initially faced French, but the mismatch in preparation became obvious. Music offered another route. I studied theory and piano and continued developing an understanding that had begun with violin. The work was technical, not merely expressive: notation, harmony, intervals, and disciplined practice. Music gave me a language that traveled more easily than my accent did.^[2]

I played rugby until a knee injury altered what I imagined might be possible, including thoughts about a naval path. I learned Scottish dancing and made friendships that survived distance and time. I also listened to arguments about labor, class, and politics that were unlike the conversations around our table in Denver.^[3]

Living abroad did not cause me to abandon what I believed. It forced me to understand why other people saw institutions differently. I came home more aware that a person's assumptions often belong to the place where he learned them. That awareness served me later in missionary work, sales, politics, and every room where trust depended on listening first.^[4]