I. L. Chang

Summer

“I hate summer.”

“Me, too.”

“It’s so humid and hot.”

“Yeah.”

A conversation between two University students. It was not yet July.

Soon,

26 degrees Celsius, light rain in the morning, then pouring for 10 minutes. Soaked, if crossing the street within these 10 minutes. More light rain until the sun broke through the clouds right before the evening.

31 degrees Celsius, rain for two days. Some parts of the city flooded.

37 degrees Celsius, humidity at 90%. Sunny. Flood subsided. Scorching hot days lasted for a week.

All throughout summer,

Sweat ran down my back. Makeup melted from the heat. Used a sun umbrella to block the UV rays. Passed by bright green trees. Cicadas whistled loudly. Mosquitos left their marks all over my legs.

Yet,

Many took evening strolls and picnicked at the Hangang Park. Many hiked the mountains, ran, and biked around the city. Many wore long pants and a thin long-sleeved shirt to keep warm in the air-conditioned indoors. Many enjoyed drinks on the patio. I, too, was part of the many.

Summer,

Much to complain about and much to enjoy.

English

“Let’s try to say this in English.”

“No, I’m Korean!” says the little boy. I work at a kids’ play place where parents pay for a membership at a premium to immerse their children in an English-speaking environment. He was seven years old.

—

The Bible study group leader asked on the Zoom call, “How was everyone’s week?” An older Korean gentleman answered, “Good. I’m enjoying my retirement life. I have been spending my time reading and preparing for this week’s Bible study.” During the session, he read off his computer screen, having written, rehearsed, studied, and translated his answers from Korean to English.

On our first meeting, my mentor, a Korean lady in her 60s, said, “I hope you can understand my English. I had only gotten better by reading the Bible in English in the last five years. Thanks be to God that He helped me to learn English and also thanks to ChatGPT.” She attends the English church service regularly, takes Japanese class on Wednesday mornings, and reads six pages of the Bible in English every day.

An older Korean gentleman sat in front of me with a stack of books. One was titled something like “History in economics”, and another was a Chinese workbook titled “Chinese daily life – Chinese without fear”. He picked up his personal tumbler and sipped on his coffee. Then, put on one of the two pairs of glasses in front of him. He opened his small notebook to the page he had bookmarked and started writing his notes neatly and carefully with his black ballpoint pen. He read and studied Monday to Friday from 9:00 am until 3:00 pm.

—

How do I tell the little boy that the existing disproportionate obsession with learning English in this homogenous Korean society is generations deep, and the reason is it gives them the chance to compete against their peers for opportunities that would move them upwards?

However, equally true is that learning English and any other language provides a bridge to international experiences that would enrich his life in ways he cannot imagine as a little boy.

Subway

“The door is closing.” Beep. Beep. Beep.

A young father pulled his daughter onto the train just before the doors closed. His daughter wore earphones with two round ear pads that were too big for her. It must have been his old ones from when he was in high school. She was preoccupied with watching a Youtube video to notice the rush. He ushered her onto an empty seat and stood before her, gripping the triangle-shaped hand strap hanging from above. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, brushing against his boyish haircut, then pulled on his long, cream graphic t-shirt in and out to create some wind. He was, maybe in his thirties, wearing baggy cargo pants with silver and black New Balance running shoes, carrying a black messenger bag like a University student. His daughter remained focused on her video. She was wearing a simple dark purple dress and pink transparent sandals. Her hair was tied neatly into pigtails with two pink shiny clips.

The train stopped at the next station, and the young father looked around, scanning for empty seats. He found two empty ones across from where they were. One of them was littered with a paper ball. Nevertheless, he quickly pulled his daughter towards the two empty seats. He hesitated. Who should sit where?

I should probably sit on the one with the paper ball… but maybe she can instead? She’s smaller, so she can stay on the edge, but I’m bigger, so I’ll need to move this paper ball away, and there isn’t anywhere to move it.

He pulled on her small hand and motioned for her to sit, but she frowned when she saw the paper ball and refused to comply. He pulled her in again firmly, but she resisted, her eyes not leaving the phone screen. He moved the paper ball toward himself, and she sat down.

He crossed one leg over the other in his seat and ruffled his hair. Strands of hair hung loose on his daughter’s face, and he tucked them behind her ears. The phone was heavy to carry. He took it out of her hands and held it at her eye level while she continued to watch the video.

After which, his body began to relax.