W takes TNAP seriously and begins teaching. Luckily, the brain he occupies is a teacher (coincidence?) so W absorbs his history and masters his mechanics.
Looking over the life of classroom experiences that are now part of his memory, the things about teaching that W loves are seeing the spark of understanding in a student's eyes the moment a concept clicks, hearing confidence enter their tone of voice in excited explanations to their friends, and years later finding out that short and seemingly insignificant interactions had impact and helped guide students to be successful.
What W doesn't yet understand about teaching, because his surrogate brain suppresses the feelings, is how the residue from hearing and dealing with each student's issues starts to accumulate like plaque in an artery and diminishes the flow of the teacher's life force. Regrets, if not purged, will eventually tear a teacher apart. Someone else's burdens become yours if you receive them but don't know how to set them down again. Not understanding this, W sees his efforts sour and starts to resent the mission.
If this weren't enough, as W teaches the dharma to his 21st century students, sharing this subtle and refined wisdom that has been practiced for centuries in an unbroken lineage of teacher to student, the students seem to believe they already know quite a bit about the dharma because they can download hella mindfulness books on the internet - not that they read them. Because they observe the plethora of titles online they tell W that they "kinda already know about that meditation stuff." Consternation caused by the profusion of information, information that was historically kept guarded and carefully taught, seems to undermine TNAP and W despairs.