Gwangju News

Opinion

My father said, “Remember, it is you who can decide your way of life – you decide whether you want to have dinners in luxurious restaurants, or in small, ratty cafeterias like this.”

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My early middle school days were spent at the expense of my studies: I was always caring for my appearance, chasing cute boys, and writing love letters. And yet, my parents never told me to study. Parental intuition told them that their nagging would push me away from, rather than draw me toward, my schoolwork. Instead, they allowed me to glimpse two future scenarios. One day they took me to a fancy, expensive restaurant; the next day, to a poor, shabby cafeteria. While eating dinner at the latter, my father said, “Remember, it is you who can decide your way of life – you decide whether you want to have dinners in luxurious restaurants, or in small, ratty cafeterias like this.”

His message was simple and clear: a good life often follows a good education. I was motivated to study hard, especially when learning English, a language whose growing global preeminence underscored its importance. Fascinated by Backstreet Boys songs and Hollywood movies, I enjoyed studying English everywhere: in my room, in the bathtub, at the dining table, on the street, or even during dates with my first boyfriend. I read American gossip magazines to learn slang and street-talk; through them, I came to know about Paris Hilton, heiress to the Hilton Hotel chain. One of her dubious claims to fame is that, once she wears an outfit, she never wears it again. Looking at Ms. Hilton, I thought life was very unfair. She was born into obscene wealth and endless opportunity. She released an album, wrote a book, and ran various kinds of businesses without any fear of failure because she was exempt from financial repercussions. I felt jealous of her as she attained social and cultural capital with little to no effort, while most people struggle for a fraction of the recognition that she receives.

There is an old Korean saying, “a dragon grows up in a brook,” which means that great oaks come from little acorns. At its full size, a dragon cannot actually live in a brook; thus, it represents success despite a humble background. My parents’ personal success perfectly illustrates the saying. They were born right after the war and could not attend university but instead had to be satisfied with finishing high school, which proved difficult enough for them. Both my grandparents were so poor that they could not afford to pay tuition fees for their children. They were part of the labor class, working all day long for meager pay. They and their children were hungry all the time; a full bowl of rice was considered a blessing. Now, my parents belong to the middle class of Korean society. Both became government officials and their positions afforded them a level of financial stability they had never before known. For my parents’ generation, this achievement is regarded as the result of effort because before the 1980s, there was tremendous opportunity for social mobility as class distinctions were more malleable.

Now, it is more difficult to find someone who can be described as a dragon in a brook. These days, class distinctions are more rigidly defined so that if one is poor, he or she has less opportunity to learn; this entails a corresponding smaller opportunity to succeed. According to a recent study by the Seoul Metropolitan Office of Education, 5.8% of elementary school students who belong to low-income brackets and live in the poorest area (Yangchen district) showed slowed learning rates, but no students who belong to high-income brackets and live in the richest area (Gangnam district) showed slowed learning rates.

Poor students are not only beset by slowed learning rates; they also have no chance to do things like study abroad. In that sense, I am lucky. Even though I received a scholarship to study abroad, I had to show my father’s bankbook to prove that he is not poor, or at least that he could afford to pay money for my stay in America. The trip was admittedly expensive, but it was well worth the investment. The moral lessons I learned there will stay with me for the rest of my life. America is often called the land of opportunity, where men and women can, through hard work and sacrifice, achieve whatever goals they desire. And so it was that in America, my father’s message was reinforced: I truly do make every difference in my life from my efforts. Now when I look at Paris Hilton I am no longer jealous of her. In fact, I pity her as I realize that her efforts make little difference in her wealth; she can never genuinely claim or feel, as I can, that she is a self-made woman.

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