GA IN

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Once Mummy is back from work, I run up to her with the brown envelope from school in hand. For some reason, it didn’t feel right to open it myself. I don’t think I would have understood these kinds of letters anyway.

Mummy scoops me into her arms without warning, taking me by surprise.

“You got in, Ga In-ah.”

Got into what?

“You got into the Gifted Programme. You remember, the one where you went on a Saturday morning to take the test?”

Of course I remember. I hadn’t taken such a bad test in ages.

Wait, “I got in? Really? But I didn’t do well on the test.”

“Well enough, dear.”

“Show me.” I stick my hands out, asking for the letter. I need to see for myself.

Congratulations. Gifted Programme. Top 1-2%.

That’s all I see. And that’s enough. I got into the Gifted Programme! Son Ga In got into the Gifted Programme! I got in!

“I’m so proud of you,” Mummy whispers into my ear, “I can’t believe you qualified for the gifted programme.”

I can’t too.

“Can I go?”

“Do you want to go? I don’t know. We never considered such a possibility at all. How about we wait for your Daddy to come back to discuss this?”

I’m not sure if I want to go myself.

“But if you ask Mummy, I would rather you go. Do you want to go, Ga Innie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry, you still have time to think about it, dear.”

“But now that I got in, it’s a waste to give it up. Don’t you think?”
“If you’re sure you want to go though, and Daddy is against it, I will talk to him.”

There must be something special about the gifted programme that makes people treat you like an adult. After spending a great deal of effort to read through the two page letter, which congratulated me on getting in and gave information about the programme, I flipped through the forms I needed to fill. Right at the end, they asked for a parent’s signature. No surprise there. And then they asked for my signature.

I didn’t even have a signature, and here they were asking me to sign something. In the short nine years of my life, no one had ever asked me to sign anything.

Mummy has cooked crab soup for dinner and fried a black pomfret to congratulate me on getting in.

“So do you wish to go, Ga Innie?”

“I don’t know, Daddy. Do you want me to go?”

“Honestly, girl, I’m okay either way. Daddy will let you make the decision.”

Again, what is with everyone treating you so differently? Is getting in that big a deal?

Never in my life have bI been given this level of power. When I enrolled in elementary school, Daddy refused to send me to a mixed school. He said that a girl’s schoo