The Academy Needs a Real Education

Episode 1. student

There was a student who was crazy about writing.

Leaving what the writing was like as a secondary issue, the student poured into the act of writing itself without leaving a minute or a second.

I conceived the material, organized the plot, and wrote the sentences with all the time I could invest and sacrifice.

At school, I didn’t say a word except to talk to myself, and I wasted even the time to interact with others.

Desperation, as if writing with drying blood on the tip of a pen.

It even felt strange that so many high school students who were still alive would so nervously split time into seconds and immerse themselves in something.

What are you chasing after?

Are you writing down the will of a time-limited muse?

As it should be, of course, the student was getting a bad reputation from the teachers for his poor class attitude, and he was already treated as a ghost among the students.

It wasn’t a ghost as a metaphor, but really classmates hated it every time they saw it.

Black hair pouring down as if ink had been put on it, skin like a sheet of paper that looked whiter, and a body that was as dry and erect as a pencil.

That’s a problem, but the girl’s attitude and atmosphere seemed to be the most bizarre to the class.

They ignore anything you say, so if you get angry and say something to your face… .

Everyone who made eye contact with the girl shuddered and never came near her again.

Isn’t it really possessed by a ghost? The story that it looks like a virgin ghost has become quite a famous ghost story in this school now.

The girl was telling such a story with her own mouth, as if she were talking about the wanderings of puberty that had already ended.

Even though it has improved a lot compared to when we first met, it seems to me that her dark history is still in progress.

“Yes, Ayoung. So, do you have at least one friend? Aren’t you eating alone?”

“… .”

Ahyeong glared at me.

Rather than being cool, his face seemed to be saying ‘why are you fighting?’

His expression, quite suitable for his age, had a teasing taste to it, so I smiled.

Kids talk about ghosts, but if you look at it this way, you’re not afraid at all.

“I mean I escaped puberty, forget about the dark history. I will really come to my senses now… . Your grades have improved a lot.”

“To be exact, only English has improved. Why are you not taking other classes?”

“I only take teacher’s classes.”

“… why?”

“I don’t have time to write when I finish school.”

“Won’t Korean language classes be helpful when writing?”

“Oh right. I forgot to take that medicine. Can I have some water, sir?”

As A-Young’s homeroom teacher, I often get pointed out that I need to correct her outgoing class attitude.

Every time that happened, the reason I was apologetic saying it was just because of my lack of ability and moved on without hesitation.

“Ahyoung, don’t know about anything else, but live while paying attention to taking medicine… . It’s been over 2 hours since I haven’t eaten. Are you dizzy or not?”

“Yeah. When I talk to the teacher, it’s a little less or there are no symptoms at all. If I’m alone, I won’t forget to take my medicine. Because the response comes right away.”

Because her heart was still in rehab. Unstable homes, sensitive sensibilities, bullying experiences, and so on.

The dark red scars on my wrists and the burns like the lick marks of the snakes in hell, which were only shown to me a month ago.

As a third party, I could tell that she had no time to think deeply about her current school life.

I could see that his talent for writing was by no means genius, and that on the other side of his tightly closed dry lips were dark and damp thoughts that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

‘However, we all know that writing is an act of self-defense for Ah-young, and that it is the best way to stay away from reality.’

I couldn’t stop her writing, let alone her class attitude.

If I had tried to lead Ah-yeong to the ‘right path according to social norms’, I wouldn’t have been able to build a bond this far.

The reason I was able to hear Ah-yeong’s sincerity, which she hides even from her mother, her only family, is simply because I didn’t interfere with what she was doing.

To be precise, for helping without interfering.

“Have you finished taking your medicine? Did you read everything you wrote yesterday?”

I took out the thick manuscripts I had received from her from the depths of my desk.

About the ceiling of A4 paper. As summer vacation approached, the amount increased so much.

“I don’t think the composition of this episode was bad either. There were a few awkward sentences, so I edited them a bit, so check it out… . Are you a little over halfway to the end?”

“… .”

The reason I was able to hear her inner thoughts that even the psychological counselor who was in charge of her did not yet know was not because I had that kind of ability.

I am a beginner teacher who has not yet been teaching for a year and has a lot to learn in many ways.

I’m just a novice with no experience. I just felt that in order to become close with the other person, I had to bring a topic of conversation that the other person would like. It took quite a long time and effort to find out that Ayoung likes novels, especially fantasy novels… .

After I heard that Ayoung wasn’t actually an ADHD patient, but just immersed in writing, I was able to read her novel after a long persuasion.

I read it really hard.

Then, first praise and support, then advice, and now designing the content together.

I was invited into her world.

Simply put, I became the editor of her writing.

Even as her only reader.

After that, we stayed at school until past 6pm every evening after school and talked about novels. I created the setting, thought about the development, and discussed the character.

Even though I was sweating when I asked about this or that honest psychology of a man, if a good idea suddenly came to me, even at night, I felt comfortable contacting each other.

Even things like counseling on concerns that are difficult to talk about face-to-face.

Anyway, 1000 pages of manuscripts piled up while burning such passion. Objectively, the novel written by Ah-yeong is not a great masterpiece.

Regardless of the level of writing, I found it interesting that my thoughts determine the course of the characters in the story.

If other teachers knew this, they would say that even though they couldn’t lead the child to the right path, they were immersed in the writing game and behaved immaturely.

I won’t deny that it’s immature. To be honest, it’s true that I kept holding on to it because it was fun, but I don’t regret it.

As a result, over time, Ah-young’s attendance rate reached 100%, and her English grade rose noticeably.

I believe that I will have the strength to move forward one step at a time.

By the way, there was no reaction even though Ayeong talked about her favorite topic for a long time today.

He listened to my feedback, nodded his head, and just patted the manuscripts I had collected so far as if they were lovely.

My thoughts were written on the manuscript, and it was quite messy because it was burned to the touch. It stings my conscience, but to be honest, I’ve seen more of that than the class material.

‘… Are you mad at being dirty? Or am I sick?’

He carefully looked at Ahyoung.

“… What is it? Are you sick?”

“No. why?”

“just. Usually, when I talk about novels, I get excited and stutter, but today I seem to have no energy.”

“It’s not like that, it’s just… .”

Ah-yeong finished her words cautiously and vaguely, as if she were writing down a sentence she was writing for the first time.

“It’s just that I hate myself.”

A classroom with only her and me.

It was summer, it was evening.

Summer vacation was approaching.

During last summer vacation, Ah-yeong, who said she only slept, was going to write a book so that she would not have time to be lonely during this vacation.

Even so, I wanted to leave at least one memory that Ah-young could look back on when she became an adult and summer came.

I thought I was progressing well so far, but was my heart in a hurry?

“… Is it hard to write?”

“Nope. fun.”

“then… Is it hard being at home? What can I buy you this evening? Would you like to eat?”

“Nope. No. something like that It’s not gloomy. Am I very happy right now?”

Ah-yeong, who seemed to be the farthest from happiness in our class, looked at the sunset across the window with a sincere smile.

“In freshman year, I never showed my writing to anyone. I knew very well that it was used for self-satisfaction and escapism from reality.”

After that, there was silence, and I waited patiently for Ayeong to open her mouth again.

Except when talking about a novel she was writing, Ayeong always carefully selected words in her head and made up sentences before speaking.

This habit, which seemed like perfectionism, overlapped with an indifferent attitude to everything except writing, and made communication with someone quite difficult.

Conversely, this waiting also built up trust between Ayoung and me. There is no need to rush between this silence. No need to be uncomfortable.

Ah-yeong, who had been lost in thought while being buried in the silence like cotton, finally opened her mouth again as if she had made up her mind about something.

This time, not by the window, but by looking at me.

“Today, I thought to myself. Writing is probably the loneliest thing in the world. really.”

“right. Because no one can write your story for you.”

“Right? But it’s strange. That I’m not lonely these days. I’m looking forward to tomorrow, so if I’m tired the next day, I’m sleepy at school, so I’m going to sleep early… Isn’t that really strange?”

“… It got better.”

“Thanks to Sam.”

Ayoung seemed to be a little embarrassed, so she lowered her head slightly and continued to speak.

“It was strange. I started writing novels in first grade. I wasn’t like that then, but why am I like this now… .”

Ah-young continued to tell stories that would have been cherished for a long time if she had written them down.

“How many aspiring writers have at least one reader who takes their writing seriously? How many other people are around who listen to and talk about stupid imaginations and embarrassing experiences… ”

She picked out each word again.

I listened as much as I could to the silence, and after a while, she started talking again.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s common. I didn’t know this because it was my first experience, but I think meeting someone like that was a great blessing to me. Maybe I am the happiest person in my class right now.”

Her subsequent decision was as sudden as a gale in the warm sun.

“I’m going to stop writing novels now.”

“… uh? Why all of a sudden? whatever you-”

“until now… Thank you, you lost too much.”

At that moment, a strong wind blew through all the windows that had been left open for ventilation, and as if the birds were frightened, the silk curtains flew all at once with the wind.

Booung-

high and free.

Like handkerchiefs waved in farewell, they waved high and fervently.

When the intense setting sun that seemed to melt everything that was covered by the curtains blurred my vision, receiving the flash of light, Ahyeong spread red like burning manuscripts.

“Writing, I wanted to be honest with myself.”

With the exception of the burns that were covered by her coat, everything was stained red, and she continued with a hoarse voice.

“I think I woke up from a dream. Mr. Kim Yohan.”

Ah-young’s face, smiling brightly for the first time, is her last memory as Kim Yo-han, homeroom teacher and English teacher in Pyeongeun High School’s 2nd year class 2.