“Welcome to Kindergarten!” a young lady with hair braided by Apollo exclaims, her voice drenched with the melodic chime of twinkling bells and dreamy giggles. Her brown eyes sparkle, genuine adoration evident in her bright expression. “I'm Ms. Mideros and I'll be your teacher. I hope we have a fantastic year!”

She is as beautiful as a thousand roses, and all the little children sitting criss-crossed on the floor are entranced by her bumbling radiance. A chorusing reply of “me too” rings unanimously throughout the colorful classroom, and Sohee joins in too, because even she is not able to resist Ms. Mideros’s pretty pink smile of fairy floss.

It's hard, Sohee thinks, comprehending all the English. She can speak it, yes, but her accent is too noticeable, sometimes she jumbles up words. She doesn't desire to talk, she hates to talk, but for her new teacher, she tries.

“You guys are darlings!” the woman cooes, and Sohee feels a sense of pride swell inside her chest despite only saying two words. “Since it’s only the first day, why don’t we get to know each other by playing?” her teacher insists.

Cheers spring from the clumped assortment of toddlers, and Ms. Mideros giggles again. At her call, the mixed pot of children are free to explore their second home and fiddle with the mix-matched toys provided. Instead of heading to the puzzles or to the building blocks, Sohee wanders to the lone rack in the corner where an entanglement of frayed picture books struggle to stay upright. With her grubby hands, she wrangles “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” from it’s place underneath several pieces, and begins turning the wide pages. Crayon marks haphazardly streak the illustrations, but she could still interpret the meaning. Each word is as big as her fingernail and drawn disproportionately large.

Perfect, this is perfect. Sohee starts to carefully sound the words out to herself. If. You. Give. A. Mouse. A. Cookie. He's. Going. To. Want. Some. Milk. She repeats milk three times to herself. Trying and trying and trying.

In between the small juncture where the mouse takes a nap and when the mouse draws a picture, an alarming clatter sprouts from across the room, drawing the attention of everyone in the class. Even the two boys caught up in their pirate fantasy game pause their makeshift sword fight to search for the origin.

“Tae-Tae!” a girlish voice shouted angrily.

“Sorry, Wendy!” the boy, “Tae-Tae”, replies.

Sohee lifts her head and sees a girl with cinnamon hair wrapped in tight pigtails glaring at the boy with vibrant locks that resembled banana split ice cream. A collapsed pile of alphabet building blocks wallows at their feet, the pastel letters forming “FUN VE.” It was not hard to figure out what transpired.

Wendy’s lower lip begins to tremble. “I worked so hard for it!”

“I know! Sorry!” Although he says this, when he moves again, he topples another section of foundation, angering the little girl once more. All around her, people laugh good naturedly, unperturbed by his clumsiness and oblivious destruction.

There’s a snicker to her left, and another kid teases playfully, “You’ve been blessed with jelly legs? Gon’ make Wendy cry!”

“Yeah! Stop it!” another voice sounds, but it holds no malice. Another scolding lilt that retains no depth to the words. “You runned the towah of pizza!”

“Ruined, dummy! Ru-ined!”

“That’s what I said! Runded! Tae’s runnah towah! He gotta fix it!”

Tae doesn’t seem too bothered by the reprimands, only shooting a beaming, square smile. “I will, I will.” He stretches his hand out to the sniffling girl. “I’ll help you make it again, Wendy, pinky promise.”

Sighing at the meaningless distraction, Sohee returns to her book with a glower.

“So noisy,” she mutters with sour distaste.

For the briefest second, wide almond eyes attract to her, then shift just as quickly.

~

Some souls understand each other upon meeting. On the other hand, majority don't.

~

I have not experienced the struggle of being a nonnative speaker in a native speaking country, especially at such a young age with an innate introvertive personality. I can not fully capture the challenges, but I hold hope that I won't butcher it completely. I most likely will.