6/30/2020
I am popcorn.
I was born in South Korea, but I live in the United States. I have spoken Korean most of my life, yet I am better at speaking English. I was raised by Asian parents, but my friends describe me as “white.” I am a weird, funky mix of white and yellow.
Now let me tell you what was popping when I was just a buttery kernel.
Life in Korea as a student was horrible. Hagwons, or private educational institutes, gobbled up any free time I had in my day. As soon as school ended at 4 PM, I immediately took the bus to my first hagwon of the day. From then on, I would spend my entire afternoon studying things like math, science, and Korean grammar. On any given day, I either had a couple hagwons 2-4 hours long each, or one long hagwon that sometimes lasted till 12 or even 1 in the morning. When I came back home, I had mountains of work to do both for school and my hagwons, which frequently resulted me going to sleep at 2 in the morning. This insane cycle would repeat every single day, giving me very little time to explore my interests or have fun with my friends. To make things worse, corporal punishment was prevalent in many hagwons, so it was not uncommon to get smacked on my palms with a ruler for every question I got wrong on a quiz. This incredible burden put upon students is the main reason why Korea has one of the highest suicide rates on the planet. Many students can’t bear the mental toil and simply choose to end their lives. I too, often felt that everything was hopeless, and I would just end up in a boring 9-to-5 job, never getting to live a happy and successful life. So, it hit me like a brick wall when I moved to Asheville School, where all I saw were green meadows and beautiful brick buildings, not a single hagwon in sight.
I thought with all my hardcore training, Asheville School was going to be a breeze. It was like a tornado. Aside from the occasional questions like “why don’t you listen to K-pop?” or “do you really eat dogs back home?” I faced many difficulties adjusting my life to fit in an American high school. I quickly discovered that American students were a lot more confident, extroverted, and very open to discussing taboo topics such as sex or drugs. Having only lived in a culture where students are treated like mindless studying machines, I had a hard time adjusting to life in Asheville School. Combined with my lack of confidence and social skills, it took me quite a while to fit in with my American peers. I also developed unnecessary insecurities about my looks and number of friends. I hated buffet dinner because I was too scared to go sit with my peers in fear that they would not let me join. I had trouble fitting into conversations. Of course, I was also immensely afraid of talking to girls. The Holiday Dinner Dance was a reminder that I was never going to get a girlfriend. I also immediately realized a pattern; I wasn’t the only one having trouble fitting in with Americans. Most of the Chinese kids only hung out with the other Chinese students, and they were so quiet in class I would often forget they were there. My Korean peers also seemed to be more reserved. Whether or not they preferred it that way, I don’t know. But I knew that I didn’t want to spend my high school days in that manner. For the next four years, I worked on my confidence and creating a personality. I started working out, put effort into how I looked, and forced myself into social situations. I developed a passionate hobby that made me unique, nurtured my creativity, and eventually helped me get into my top choice college. During the process, I also developed a bubbly, optimistic persona that I’m more than proud to call my own.
It is no doubt that the incredibly toxic education system and “all work, no play” culture contributes to the difficulty of Korean students’ lives in America. Having experienced it myself, I am immensely grateful for my parents who gave me a chance to live a life better than theirs.
My friends used to always tell me that I will be the most successful person in the room. For the first time in my life, their compliments don’t seem fake. For the first time in my life, I believe in their words, and most importantly, myself.