The place was loud; the kids stared at me through the window as if I was a monkey in a zoo. I held my mom’s warm and soft hand tightly to press down the fear growing inside me. My heart started to pump faster as I went into the classroom. I let go of my mom’s hand and took a big step into the room, holding my breath. About 35 people sitting down on their chairs looked up and stared at me. Mrs. Lee, the teacher of the class told me to sit down on one of the table that was empty. I shook my head and sat down on a chair, the closest to the front. The chair was hard and cold and was very uncomfortable. Mrs. Lee introduced me to the class and told them that I was from Bangladesh and it was my first time going to a school like this.

The whole class stared at me as if I was a foreigner even though I was a Korean like them. Mrs. Lee told the class that everyone was going to share about themselves and so the students started to share about them. It was a long boring time until everyone shared and it was finally finished. I was nervous to see new people in a totally strange place, but I tried to keep up a smile. The bell rang and the class was dismissed. Few seconds later, I was surrounded by the people who were next to me and they started to ask me questions.

“What’s your name? Can you speak Bengali?” One girl asked me with her eyes wide open. I told her back,

“I’m Ji Ho and yes, I can speak some Bengali.” I didn’t know why but everyone looked amazed. They told me to say things like “hello”, “how are you”, “what is your name”, etc and so I did.

The rest of the day went by with asking and answering question with people. Finally only one period of school was left. It was math class and so I opened up my book to get ready for the class. Mrs. Lee came in and started to teach us the material we had to learn. The topic was about multiplication of three digit numbers; now at my age, it might look really easy, but at that time, I was super confused. I spent the rest of that math class trying to understand what I was supposed to do. But I eventually gave up and stared out the window, looking at the pastel blue sky. The time went by slowly and I fell deeper into my day dream; flying across the cloud made of cotton candy, dancing in the moon made with cheese and more. Then suddenly, I woke up from my day dream and realized it was still math class. I could hear Mrs. Lee explaining the homework.
“So, the math test will be tomorrow about everything we learned today. Hope you guys study hard!” At first, I didn’t really understand what the last part meant, but I could soon realize. The bell rung and I quickly packed my thing and dashed towards the door. I hurried through the streets and went quickly to my house. I knocked on the door and waited there for about two minutes until the door was opened. There was my mom standing in front of the door. I ran and gave her a big warm hug. I told my mom everything happened in the school and also that there is a math test tomorrow.

I studied for the math test with my mom rest of the afternoon, after resting for few minutes. I sat closely to my mom and listened carefully to what she was trying to teach me. Weirdly, everything started to come into my mind. Eventually I knew how to solve every question after working on some of the example questions. That night, I went out with my family to eat dinner, but colorful lines of cars filled the whole road. It took about an hour to get to the restaurant. I ate tons of Korean food that I couldn’t eat in Bangladesh. When I finished eating, my stomach was so full; it hurt badly every time I took a breath. The rest of the night went by fast, talking with my family.

The next morning, I woke up early to get ready to go to school. I packed my bag and left the house saying bye to my mom. I dashed through the streets, as always, and arrived at school safely. I was one of the first people to come to class. I sat down on my desk and started to review for the math test. Even though I was nervous for the test, I just spent most of the school day playing with my new friends.

Finally the math class came and right before the test, I reviewed my notes one more time. Mrs. Lee told us to put our folders opened up, in 90 degrees angle on the table standing up; so that we don’t copy each other. I started the test and it was pretty simple and easy, but there were also some questions that were really hard. I concentrated and tried to finish as best as I could. The school bell rang and we all had to hand in out tests, even though some people weren’t even done.

The next day was just as normal as the other days, but there was a strange feeling among the students. I didn’t really know what the feeling was but I ignored it and enjoyed the day until the math class. Mrs. Lee looked quite angry and annoyed. She stood in front of the class holding the tests we took yesterday. She called out the names that got the perfect scores and we all clapped for them. Everything was fine until she called out people that got below 100 percent. Each percent was one hit on the hand with a stick. Unfortunately I got 92% on the test; I had to get eight hits on my hand. People with 70% had to get hit 30 times and people with 40% had to get hit 60 times on their hand. I saw my classmates getting beaten up on their hands and I could see their hand turning livid. This made me really regret coming to public school in Korea. It was my turn to get hit, but Mrs. Lee let me return to my seat because I was new to schools in Korea and she thought I should have time to get use to it.

Even though I didn’t get hit on my hands, it was a great cultural shock to me. Growing up as a missionary kid in Bangladesh and going to international schools, I never saw this kind of punishment. I was shocked how even grades above 90% were considered the “failing grade” in Korea, and were given a punishment for not getting a perfect score. My first impression of Korea was very bad. I asked my parents why I had to get punished even when I got an A, but they couldn’t answer my question.

When I look back at my memories, there were also some positive things about Korean culture. But since my first impression about Korea was so bad, I still think of Korea as a scary place, even as a Korean. I now finally realize how blessed I am to be a missionary kid, going to an international school.