Day 58: "Why Don't You Understand Korean Fool?"/"Yes, It Is A Nice Day"

Growing up, since my grandmother was the only person I had interaction with

(For more on that, click here!)

My first language was Korean.

I lost that ability pretty when I went to school.

But it wasn't that easy to break, according to my parents.

They had to try very hard to get me to switch over to English.


But once I got over that hurdle, I handled the language...decently if I do say so myself.


Later on, when they felt that I had enough mental capacity to handle another language, they tried to make me learn Korean...naturally(?)


By only speaking Korean to me.


This method failed right at the beginning.

So they forced me to go to Korean school every Saturday at a local church.
I remember being really angry about this.


I was 12 years old at the time and when they found out how atrocious my Korean was, they put me in a class full of 4-5 year olds. I never felt my dignity drop so low. It was pretty damn humiliating.


But at least I was a quick learner. I had at least got down the basics pretty well. Such as learning how to read. 
(though it doesn't help that I don't understand what i'm reading 99.9% of the time)


(I hate it/find it highly amusing when I concentrate on a word, only to find out its an English word, written phonetically in Korean.

For my final test, I had to recite a story in Korean. 
I don't remember what the story was, I think it was about a little mouse that was very mischievous and wouldn't listen to its mother. When that little mouse's antics finally got him into a snakes den, his mother came to save him, but she got bitten by the snake and she died, her last words being "I hope you will behave now" or something like that. Typical Korean story.


I don't think I did it very well, because I could see the adults in the audience smirking a little. 


they gave me a "trophy" in honor of my graduation from the children's class.


I couldn't even understand what was engraved on it.

They finally bumped me up to a more age appropriate group. But my classmates weren't well behaved little kids. They were surly, preteens that shared the same angst about having to spend a Saturday here. So they would cut class instead.


I wanted to do the same. But since my parents went to this church, I figured they would eventually find out that I wasn't going to class and would give me a "special" hands-on lesson on Korean style discipline.


So I ended up being the only kid that went to class, while everyone else hung out at Wendy's or went to the park.


I kind of felt bad for the instructor. At first he tried to teach me Korean, but perhaps it was the angst in me that I had at the time that made me refuse to learn the language. 


He gave up and explained to me that the reason the language wasn't getting to me, was because I had no pride as a Korean. So for the rest of my time there, he tried to instill Korean pride in me by making me watch famous Korean films and listening to famous, traditional Korean music. 


There were no subtitles and there was no way I could understand what these people were singing. So the 'feelings' of pride I was supposed to have never grew in me. In fact, his method unfazed me. 


I think he gave up on me and we talked about his and my life. 


Eventually, my parents just gave up on teaching me Korean. 


And I feel somewhat bad about it I suppose. But I have gotten a lot better at understanding what people are saying in Korean. 


Which proved to be very useful..for moments when people would talk about me, right in front of me no less.