16 #3
“I don’t know,” Mido said, telling him the truth. It felt as if no one else were in the room except for the two of them. “I can do things out of order. And it’s okay.”
“What will you do then?” he asked.
“I’d probably do something like this but at a high school. Maybe become a guidance counselor, which I can’t do now because I don’t have the degrees. I guess I’ve been preparing.”
The mother turned to her son. “Sung-joon-ah, can you wait in the lobby?” She pointed to the bench opposite the reception area.
The boy got up and bowed to Mido, then Peter, and left the room.
“He’s a great kid,” Peter said. “As Mido explained, we’re sorry that we cannot work with him. I’m sure that this is our loss and not his. It just wouldn’t be fair to make an exception.”
Professor Kim said nothing, but it was clear that he was thinking; they could see an argument brewing.
Then he said, raising his voice slightly, “How can you work here without a proper university degree? There are many university graduates with advanced degrees who worked hard to earn them who could do your job. It’s unfair for you to pretend to be qualified. Shocking, actually.”
He was enraged that he had bothered to take valuable time off from his work. He glanced at her with suspicion, then as quickly turned from her.
His wife asked, “Can you wait outside, too?”
To Peter and Mido’s surprise, the man obeyed. Without saying goodbye, he pushed open the glass door and left.
“I am sorry about my husband. He’s under enormous pressure.
Everyone cares about where Sung gets into school, and my husband is determined that he get into the very top schools on the first try.
Our oldest went to Princeton for a year, then transferred to Harvard.
My husband would not relent because she was as qualified as the other children in Seoul who had been admitted to Harvard.
Then our middle child got into MIT, so our youngest needs to do just as well as his sisters.
Everyone is expecting the most from Sung, and he is suffering, I think.
I was so taken by the fact that he asked you questions. He never does that.”
Peter crossed his arms. “I’m sorry that we do not have space for him.”
Dr. Gu reached into her handbag and withdrew an envelope.
Right away, both of them shook their heads and waved their hands no.
“Peter, I know you don’t need this, but perhaps your colleague here might.
There’s no shame in getting paid for hard work.
This is the exact amount of the tuition, and it would only be for you.
Of course, we would pay the hagwon tuition, too.
If there were more lessons needed, then surely—” Dr. Gu continued.
“Enough,” Peter said, holding up his hands. They had been speaking in Korean, but suddenly he said this last word in English. “Enough,” he repeated angrily.
He turned to Mido as if he was embarrassed that these people were somehow connected to him.
“Jeokdanghi,” he said to the mother, in a kind of pleading voice. “Be moderate. Please. This is all too much. It must not matter to this extent.”
Peter’s face colored, and he took a deep breath.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but your son has done more than enough.
It’s like a disease, I think. This constant battle between greedy ambition versus moderation.
Your son is incredible in terms of what’s he’s already accomplished, but we’ve seen too many kids like Sung, who think they have to keep trying.
Jeokdanghi,” he said. “Be moderate. Please.”
The mother slid the fat envelope toward them, but Mido picked it up and reached over the table to return it to the woman’s purse. Dr. Gu took it out again and put it on the table, her hand covering it.
“Also,” Peter added, “Sung’s father can feel pressure, but it’s not okay for him to be disrespectful to Mido. I think your family should go now. That envelope.” He looked up. “We don’t do that here.”
“My husband—”
“Sung’s father obviously cares about education and his children. However, we cannot accept another student. Any president of Korea could ask us, but we’d still say no,” Peter said, as if to dare her.
Dr. Gu sat, unmoving. At home, she and her husband had agreed that it was her job to give them the envelope.
Peter exhaled in exasperation. “Dr. Gu, Sung might not get into all those schools. Not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because sometimes, it’s not supposed to happen, and maybe it’s better for him to learn that like everyone else.
There is disappointment and sadness for even the hardest-working students.
Maybe he has to learn how to adapt to that.
Perhaps adapting to that disappointment is the lesson your child needs,” Peter said.
“It’s easy to say these careless things when you don’t have children.” Dr. Gu finally rose from her seat.
“I meant what I said to your son. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to work with him, but thank you for thinking of us,” she said.
Using both hands, Mido bowed lightly and returned the envelope to the boy’s mother.