First Meeting
Meant to Be
First Meeting
My mom walks down the hall heading to where my teacher and classmates will be. I clung terrified to her, burying my face in her silky hair and neck, closing my eyes. I can feel her patting my back trying to calm my nerves as she talks to me. As I peek around, I notice people starring at us. Well it wasn't just my appearance that was different, despite being five years old and living in America, I barely knew any English. My mom spoke soothing words to me in Korean, using my birth name, Jongwoon, which is much more comfortable than Daniel the name I will be hearing a lot because it is my English name. I don’t like it. Why do I have to have two names? I asked my umma once, I mean my mom, and she said it was because in America we use English so we must have an English name when we go to places like school and work. I don’t get it, but she said I will when I’m older.
I recalled the memory, it causes me to pout, but I continued to occasionally look around at the people. I notice we are getting closer to the classroom. How did I know this? For the past week we would walk around the school, and because my mom knows my English isn't so good, she would take me around the building filling me with useful words such as ‘cafeteria’, ‘restroom’, ‘nurse’ and so forth. I really did try my best to say the words with perfect pronunciation, like how my mom’s friend would teach me, but it would always sound wrong. For instance, ‘cafeteria’ I say as ‘capeteria’ because there is no ‘f’ in the Korean language.
It is the language barrier that makes me not want to come to school. I wouldn’t make friends because we wouldn’t understand each other, but mom says that only by going to school will my English improve. As much as I argued I couldn’t win because she was my mom and moms always win. I was so lost in these thoughts that I almost didn’t hear my mom say we are at the classroom; another word I have trouble with, it sounds like ‘crassuroom’. Groaning, I cling to my mom, gripping tighter, and start begging her for us to go home and that I can learn English another way. After all, why would I be here if it wasn’t to learn English, is what I thought? My mom giggles at this, is she amused with me? Normally she’ll only giggle at me when she finds me amusing or I do something cute. I pout again, since I’m being serious. I hear more people; we must have walked into the room. My mom attempts to set me down. I cling more tightly to my mom who sighs, finding a chair and sitting me on her lap, while I bury my face in her chest, her hand my hair.
I close my eyes just taking comfort in my mom’s touch. It always soothes me when I’m upset like this, I could easily fall asleep. Something distracts me from doing so, I hear my mom’s voice but it isn’t in the broken English that I have gotten used to hearing, instead speaking Korean. It wasn’t to me and my appa, or dad isn’t here. Curiosity piques my interest as I turn, seeing who my mom was talking to, twisting in my mom’s lap, I see another boy facing me who looks exactly like me, scared and seeming to not want to be here either.
All we do is stare at each other; occasionally we would blink but that was about it. I didn’t even look at my mom when I noticed her and the other kid’s mom stops talking. The two moms looked at each other, then at us boys, who simply stare. My mom speaks first. I frown and pout as she used my English name, she introduces me to the boy I was staring at as Daniel Kim. I didn’t understand why she used my English name, after all wasn’t the boy I am staring at also Korean? He looks Korean to me. That is when I hear the other woman speak, the mother of the boy I am having a staring contest with as Nathan Kim. I can see that he also frowns and pouts at the English. Did he not like it? Did he not want to be here either? Questions like this ran through my mind, as I shifted in my mom’s lap holding out my hand first, which he looks, shifts, and takes. I introduce myself using Korean as I wasn’t comfortable with English, I said “Annyeonghaseyo, naeruneun Jongwoon-imnida” I shake the boy’s hand, bowing my head such as my dad taught me, and the boy replies saying “Manna-seobun gawuh, Ryeowook-imnida.” It was there that we both know we will be really good friends
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