12
Lost and Found
Dear Tek,
I’m writing to you from the Exodus staff lounge. It’s about the size of my new classroom and where we also store everything.
Right now by the door, there are six cases of juice boxes, a dozen tubs of pretzel sticks, and several pallets of toilet paper and paper towels which need to be put away.
I’ll get to it right after I finish writing this.
Before you frown, no, it’s not officially my job to organize the supplies, but I do as much as I can to save Yun and Lion the trouble. Everyone here pitches in. Even the parents help out when things break down or we need something special.
There’s an extra-long conference table near the back wall of the lounge, and a dozen chairs for teachers to prepare for classes and grade homework.
This is also where I eat two meals a day.
There’s a refrigerator, coffee machines, two microwaves, an industrial-size sink, and a dishwasher.
Yun keeps a basket stocked with granola bars, cup noodles, and crisps.
When the door’s closed, the room feels like my sanctuary. I finished preparing for my class early today, so I thought I’d write. My letters have been infrequent. Forgive me.
For lunch, I’m eating a chicken salad sandwich that I brought from home with a bag of crisps from here.
Every time I have a sandwich, I think of you layering yours with pickle slices or jalapeno peppers.
It would make me laugh when you’d take a bite and bits of pickle or peppers fell out of the sides, making a mess.
You’d smile like you were pleased. I don’t know if you do this in front of anyone else, or if you just did it to make me laugh.
I never got a chance to ask you. I hope you’re having good lunches.
Last month was my one-year anniversary at Exodus, and Lion gave me a nice raise.
Also, he’s letting me teach one of the boot camp classes for specialized high school admissions tests, which will start tomorrow.
I’ll make an extra $1,500 per session, and if that goes okay, I might get to do a couple of those per semester.
Bo taught those already, and he said I’ll be just fine.
My new afternoon class is going well. I have twenty-seven middle school students five days a week.
The work isn’t difficult. The kids do their school homework, and I help them when they’re lost, and of course, I give them hagwon assignments and check their progress.
A lot of quizzes, but I try to have games and treats, too.
On Fridays after they finish their homework and assessments, sometimes I take them to the park for relay races and frisbee.
Last year my kindergartners were so young, it felt more like babysitting.
I thought middle school kids would be tougher, but they’re not all that different.
These kids are a little more serious, and they listen to me, which is a relief.
But they’re like nutty puppies. It’s hard to get upset with them because they’re adorable, but I have to pay attention to all the relationships.
The girls have built their own worlds upon worlds, and the boys are still daft and goofy, which makes them a little easier.
There’s one boy who looks like he could be my cousin Henry’s twin.
Most of my students are ethnically Korean.
In my Saturday boot camp classes, I’ll have a few kids who are ethnically Chinese and South Asian.
When I have my middle schoolers during the week, I can still see my former students who are now in first and second grade. There’s a plexiglass partition separating my room from theirs.
I feel proud of them. Is that silly? It’s as if I’m the only one who taught them to put away their things in their cubbies, wash hands, and wait quietly for snacks before worksheets and story time.
During breaks, they knock on the plexiglass and wave at me.
My middle schoolers are sweet, too, but they’re awkward and funny around each other like little adults.
I remember being self-conscious around that age.
How did we ever survive all this, I wonder.
Bo’s taking two classes at Fullerton College, but he’s still driving the hagwon van and tutoring a few high school kids.
Sometimes I go with him to take kids home when the parents can’t make pickup, and I make sure they get into their apartments while Bo stays in the van.
Often, there’s no one home. Even though my mother always worked, she was usually home to meet us at 2:30 p.m. Also, I had my brothers.
I imagine the parents have no choice. When the kids whose parents can’t pick them up live in my apartment complex, I just let them stay in our place until someone gets them.
If the kids weren’t here at Exodus, nearly all of my students would be home alone in their apartments until an older sibling or grown-up gets home. Not everyone lives with their parents, I’ve learned that too, so I try not to assume that the adult is the kid’s mother or father.
In my middle school class, only one or two of them fool around and give me trouble, but if I give the kids the right book to read and let them use the beanbags, they settle down eventually.
I had no idea what kind of power a juice box, an extra pretzel rod, and some attention would have over even an eleven-year-old.
Sometimes, the kids are so quiet I get to learn more test prep materials. I’ve started working through the GREs, GMATs and LSATs just to see if I can. They’re all manageable. I like figuring out how the questions work. They’re like complex, long puzzles. I realize I’m not normal.
I know you want me to go back to Sydney and finish uni. You write that in every one of your letters. Your last letter was almost shout-y about it. Maybe that’s why I took so long to write back. Either you don’t understand, or I haven’t been clear as to why I can’t return now.
I don’t know about college. I mean, of course, it would be a good thing to get a degree, but I always wanted to teach young kids, and now I am teaching.
I earn more money at the hagwon than I would teaching at a public or private school.
Most tutors don’t get health insurance or other benefits, but Lion gave me health and dental because I started out as an administrative assistant, and I still do a lot of that work.
I guess I work maybe sixty hours a week.
For the first time, my family needs me. I’ve always needed them, but now, they need me. To work. I don’t mind. Really. I feel useful. I don’t know how to make you understand more than that. Also, it’s not forever, right?
Bo’s earning as much as he can while he’s starting school. DH has only one and a half more years left at Yale. My salary helps the family, and if I can get some private tutoring jobs, then I can set aside money for me. I don’t want you to worry.
The good news: Bo can pay in-state tuition because he’s been here long enough, and he’s considered financially independent from our parents.
That’s also how he’s able to sponsor their immigration.
The plan is to send him to school first, get our parents’ green cards, and I’ll keep working to help out.
Everything is expensive here. I looked into the community colleges, but because I’m not a resident yet, I’d have to pay out-of-state tuition.
I’ll be an in-state resident soon, but the reality is that even if I can afford to pay for my credits, when I’m at school, I’m not earning money.
Opportunity cost. Oh! I forgot to tell you.
I got a California driver’s license. Ta-da!
However, I’m terrified of driving on the freeway.
Tek, I’m lucky to have this job. I like the kids so much. They’re not stressful like adults.
I miss you, and I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner.
Love,
Mido
She wrote letters, and he called now and then, even though it was prohibitively expensive. Sydney was nineteen hours ahead, so he’d phone for a few minutes before his day started and when it was her early afternoon.
“What’s your Monday like?” she asked when he phoned her after church.
“It’s good. Working for Judge Alcott is preferable to classes. School feels boring these days. Anyway, he’s kind of a genius. How’s your Sunday?” he asked.
“Fine. Did you go to church yesterday?”
“No, I had to finish up some research.”
Tek walked over to his wall unit, where there was a photograph of them in front of the Opera House.
“Housemates okay?” She tried to sound cheerful. It was good to hear his voice, even though he sounded tired.
“Everyone’s fine,” he said. “Mido… I thought you’d be back by now.”
“Oh,” she said quietly, not wanting to start this again.
“I’m working,” she said. “I wrote you.”
“I know, I know. How were services?”
“The sermon was about self-control.”
They laughed.
“You’re strong on that,” he said.
“Not when it comes to ice cream or cake.”
“I miss you, buddy,” he said.
“Easter?”
“That’s why I called. It’s not looking good.”
“Work or school?”
“Both,” he said.
“You can’t control these things. I get it.” She had no right to ask him to change anything for her when she was the one who’d left.
“One of the clerks got sacked, so I’m beavering away on his behalf. Judge Alcott is looking for someone else, but he really needs me. My last few classes aren’t hard, but there’s still exams. I’m sorry, buddy.”
Mido nodded as if he could see her from 7,500 miles away. He had planned on coming for Easter, his first trip to America, but this was an important year for his budding career as a solicitor. They would likely not see each other for the remainder of the year.
At Exodus Academy, Lion told everyone that hiring Peter Son had been one of the best decisions he’d ever made.