Features
Janice Kang ’20: Turning 20 in Korea
By Janice Kang ’20
October 6, 2016
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Turning 20 has several meanings in South Korea: being able to drink, exploring and enjoying the college experience and starting adulthood. In Korea, we don’t count age in full because South Korea starts the new academic year in spring and it ends in winter. I had an eight-month gap year between my high school graduation and college. All of my friends were very excited for their gap years that they had extensive lists of things to do during the time. I was excited too, but I wanted to do something more meaningful than busting into a pub as the New Year countdown ended, something that would help me become a responsible and independent adult. So, I decided to work full-time and live apart from my parents.
I worked at Paul Academy, a private tutoring center or Hagwon, which prepares students who are studying and planning to study abroad for the SAT, ACT, AP and IB. It was located in Teheran-no, a street in Seoul concentrated with banks, convention centers, international finance companies and the center of the notorious South Korean private education industry. The street is full of entirely glass buildings and three-meter-tall trees, which I thought was somewhat an odd, yet beautiful combination of civilization and nature. The back of the street was filled with white smoke coming from the cigarettes of white collars. Another odd combination of the street was the rows of luxurious apartments and the most competitive high schools in Korea on the other side of Teheran-no. On my way home from work, I would often see groups of high school students eating snacks and complaining about their grades. Teheran-no is a combination of finance, international exchanges and South Korean education.
After all the 20 years of living as a student and customer, it was my first time living as a person who provides service to customers. As a receptionist of the Hagwon, I guided the students and parents to classrooms and the counseling office, registered students’ classes and answered phone calls. The students came from all over the world, like the U.A.E., Indonesia, Hawaii and Belgium during their summer vacation to prepare for the standardized tests required for American colleges. Some students who do not have houses in Korea even lived in a studio with their parents to attend the Hagwon.
Since SAT and ACT Hagwons are not as common as the Korean standardized test Hagwons, the classes cost two to three times more than Korean standardized test classes. However, the SAT and ACT Hagwons were more saturated because of the high demand, so my boss pushed me harder to provide better service to the parents. For example, although it was past my lunch time, I remained at the front desk to kindly answer the parents’ questions though my stomach was growling. When the Hagwon was at its peak, I got off work an hour past my original working hours due to the endless phone calls and flood of students’ questions. Even on national holidays, I didn’t have any days off because of phone calls I had to answer. Although it was painful for me to work past my working hours, I am certain that it was convenient for the customers to be answered immediately. I would feel the same way as well. Ordering Chinese food past 1 a.m. to be delivered to my studio is convenient for me but probably not to the delivery person. Convenience exists at the cost of someone else’s inconvenience.
Although I was excited to turn 20, I was also frustrated because of the looming and real responsibility of an adult: bills and fees. The way I chose to deal with it was living away from my parents. By living in a studio by myself, I wanted to pay my monthly rent, maintenance fee of my studio and monthly wireless internet fee. Paying the fee itself was not hard but signing contracts without being deceived was hard. Because I just graduated high school, the real estate agents and the employees at the wireless company tried to take advantage of my naiveté. Fortunately, my parents and others helped me, but I needed to learn how to deal with them for myself. A lesson I learned from the experience is that if I talked to them nicely they would take advantage of me. I learned that I can be nice to others, but be wise at the same time.
Aside from becoming an adult, one of the perks of living in Seoul was the proximity to the Han River and to my friends. Having been raised in a small city, I always fantasized about the metallic skyscrapers at Seoul and the lights reflected on Han River. Since my mom is not a morning person, she would take a trip with me to Seoul at night because she can drive better at night. When she would drive across the Hannam Bridge, I would stick close to the windows to remember the beautiful image of the orange light of the streetlamps and bridge sparkling on Han River. However, going to the Han River is even better when I hang out with my friends at the Han River Park. After work, my friends and I gathered at the park and ordered fried chicken. Yes, not only fried chicken but all sorts of food can be delivered to the Han River Park and there is even a designated place for food delivery. Eating fried chicken in the Han River Park with friends might not sound really special, but the night breeze, lights, river and conversations created unforgettable memories.
My gap year may not sound spectacular compared to my friends who traveled France or Boracay Island or attended international engineering conferences. However, everyone’s decision has its own meaning and its own extravagance and solitary behind the extravagance. Some of my friends asked why I would want to work that hard, nine hours per day, when it was the only time we had to waste and explore. In my definition, although I regret a little that I did not travel, my gap year was my own way of exploring, and, through the exhausting yet precious experience, I have learned simple and yet important lessons. And in fact I did travel though I was still in Seoul.