Why Chu GaEul is the kindergarten teacher

and So YiJeong is not.

Chapter 1/2

A hand on the doorknob, the other behind his back, So YiJeong smoothly and surely opened the glass-paned door as the hinges squeaked from the exertion. Flashing his mega-watt smile, ready to disarm any other being that shared the land he walked upon, he entered the room, leaving the delightful scent of spring outdoors and entering the homey confines of approximately twenty people. A unique and distinct scent wafted to his nose, providing confirmation to his whereabouts.

As he stood before the group, gleaming at the seemingly infinitely shorter beings, he was ready to dazzle and welcome their awe.

“Hey! It’s Darth Vader!”

What?! YiJeong whipped around to find the source of that senseless remark. Ok, so the last time he came, he was wearing all black, but could you blame a man for trying to look as cool as he could for a woman he had not even glanced at  in four years? Plus, back then, black was the new orange, and he was sure that on him, the colour would have proven flattering and seemingly even more masculine, if ever possible. It would make his smiles more enchanting and the twinkle in his eyes brighter, not make him look anything at all like that hand-chopping, backstabbing, whiffle-waffle father of Luke.

Also, he was not wearing all-black today! These days, blue was the new black and So YiJeong was sure that he was keeping up to the trends. He wasn’t a hard-core fashionista but being a member of the upper rungs of society, he had to always look sharp and snazzy. Of course, plus that whole thing about So YiJeong being So YiJeong, he had to look fabulous for the ladies too. The world acknowledged (ok, so maybe it’s just South Korea but that was where he spent most of his time, so it’s basically the same for him) ladies’ man  always has to look like Adonis to please them. He believed that it was his life-long  obligation after all, because he believed that those with talents have to find them, hone them and use them to help others, and he was just being a praise-worthy member of society. Looking down, YiJeong was prepared to rebut that criminal.

He muttered a curse. He was wearing all black. Someday, he would have to fire his stylist. She wasn’t performing well these days. He wondered how he could charm her into resigning.

“Sir, what is ‘’?” someone had asked loudly.

What? That was not a word to be known to people in this room! (Well, of course So YiJeong is the exception, but then again, he always is.)

Unbeknownst to him, attracted by the bag he hid behind his back, a certain young boy had been sidling up to him and had heard him curse. Now staring back at him with saucer-large eyes and a deceiving (So YiJeong was very sure) face of innocence, head cocked to one side in that universal expression of curiosity, the young boy looked up at him expectantly.

“Hey, no, boy-” he had stuttered before being rudely interrupted.

“I know! I know!” another voice in the crowed came up.

So YiJeong looked up, slightly shocked. Behind a short round table, a girl with the cutest pigtails sticking out of both sides of her head stood up (relatively) tall and proud, as if she had just worked her way through gruelling competitions and earned a gold medal at the Olympics. What came out of next was not very cute at all.

“ means poop!! I heard Appa say that when we were walking in the park with Petty yesterday and he forgot to bring a plastic bag to clean up her poop and then he went “!” and then I asked what that is and he said that it meant that Petty pooped which also meant that she and so poop is !”

Not knowing how to answer to that lengthy and detailed explanation, So YiJeong just gaped. He looked around for a certain someone who was supposed to be in charge of the class to save him but he couldn’t find her, not even a shadow. Murmurs of wonder sprang up across the room and YiJeong winced each time the profanity came out of each supposedly innocent little angel, now all tainted by his momentary carelessness. A childish voice broke his reverie.

“But sir, I have not .”

Turning around, sticking his derriere out and pulling his pants down, the young child before him pointed and said, “See, it’s clean.”

Aware that he had to do damage-control fast, So YiJeong yanked up the toddler’s pants and carried him single-handedly to the rest of the class.

“No, no, no, kid, don’t do that. That’s rude,” he said, then turned to announce to the class. “And you shouldn’t say that word also. It’s a bad word.”

“?”

“Don’t say that!”

“Why?” someone had piped up.

“Because I said so.”

“But then I can say poop, so why can’t I say ?”

“Because then you will be a naughty boy and Santa Claus will not like you and you won’t get any presents this Christmas and your Omma and Appa will dislike you and then you will have no food to eat and they will also throw you out and then you will have no bed to sleep on,” he rattled off, bullet fast.

So YiJeong was irritated. Annoyed, to say the least. What a handful lot!

Stunned, the class full of toddlers stayed rooted to the ground, all of them looking his way, eyes as wide as saucers, fear written in each of them, their tiny pink mouths trembling. A feeling of dread hit YiJeong like a fierce wave hurtling itself at shore. He saw each and every one of those tiny little people, freezing motionless in his or her spot, as similar red hues crept up their chubby little cheeks. Their eyes began to water as confirmation of the inevitable that was to come.

“Oh come on,” YiJeong breathed, just as the first of them erupted into a loud bawl. Like a highly infectious disease, with the speed and surety of falling dominos, another one wailed too, and then another one. One by one, the toddlers began to cry and scream at the top of their lungs, until the entire room was engulfed by the passionate roar of a conductor-less orchestra, united and harmonised by fear and sadness.

“Come on, kid, don’t cry,” So YiJeong begged. He patted those closer to him and cooed, telling them “Hey, I was just joking”, “Aw, no, kid, Santa Claus knows that you’re a good kid” and “Your Omma still loves you!”.

While lady luck bestowed upon him a brilliant intelligence, wealth, good looks and even a talent in pottery great enough to awe others, she did not provide him with any more luck to deal with children. Hastily, YiJeong pulled out the bag that he had been hiding behind him earlier and from it pulled out several stuffed figurines definitely instantly recognisable by children.

“Hey, hey, look, it’s Pororo!” he sang and wiggled the toy in front a child. The child and those around him stopped screaming and looked at the toy. Smiling uncertainly at the children who were red in the face, shuddering and gasping for air, cheeks tear-stained and mucus flowing freely down their noses, So YiJeong thought that he had finally lucked out.

As if.

For just a moment, the child and his friends were enraptured by the toy YiJeong was waving around in front of them, until they looked back up at YiJeong, scrunched up their tiny little face and led the entire orchestra into another number.

So YiJeong buried his face in his hands, leaving Pororo to motionlessly conduct the twenty people musical group. He wanted to cry. He wanted to be like them and cry, cry all his frustrations out, wail like he hadn’t in almost fifteen years.

Then the door opened, so fast that the hinges didn’t even have time to squeak as his holy saviour stormed into the room, demanding the reason to all the madness happening in her class.

“Why? What happened??”

Standing at the doorway, door wide open and worried, she scanned her class of twenty children. Everywhere she looked, mouths were wide opened, producing some high pitched shrilling, and children were red in the face, tears rolling down their cheeks like running taps. Some were crying so hard, it looked like they would faint from the effort.

As she cast her eyes downwards to the black-cladded figure right in front of her, what happened was slumped over a small table, head buried in his arms as his hands ran through his hair.

“So YiJeong, why are you here and what did you do to my class?!”

“GaEul ah…”

So YiJeong turned his head to look at his saviour and angel, puppy-eyed and evidently tortured, and was predictably greeted with an accusation about his conduct before her class.
 

“Teacher!!”

“Aigo, our KyungJoo yah, don’t cry honey,” GaEul cooed as she rushed to the child who had called for her. One by one, (like copycats, YiJeong thought) each and every child was calling and sobbing for her.

Lifting the sobbing girl onto her lap, GaEul hugged and cuddled KyungJoo, then wrapped another arm around another child and patted him. She pulled another child towards her and kissed him on the forehead, to another, she whispered in his ear. Reassured by their teacher’s presence, the cries slowly became sniffles as each child tottered to her, wanting her comfort and affectionate hugs and kisses.

Staring dumbfounded, So YiJeong was amazed at the magic Chu GaEul could do that he couldn’t. One by one, they succumbed to her coos and kisses, like willing, hypnotised followers. Reflecting, So YiJeong realised that  it was not very different to the magic he himself worked on women sometimes, although his powers were sort of faltering these days. He made a mental note to brush up on his powers, even if he didn’t actually have that many prey to work his magic on now.

Also, why was she calling them “Hon”, “Darling”, “Baby” and even “Precious”? Those should only have been reserved for him!

“Aigoo, our MinHyeok-ie, why are you crying,” GaEul asked a child, warm and motherly, as she wiped the tears on his face with her thumbs.

“Seonsaeng-nim, that bad man said that Santa Claus won’t give me a present!”

MinHyeok pointed accusingly at So YiJeong. So YiJeong scrunched up his face in disapproval. Hey, it was a joke! A joke! Why are these children so serious?

“What?? Why??”

“And he said that Omma and Appa will hate me and will throw me out of home,” a girl reported through sniffles.

“No, hon, that won’t happen. Remember when I told you about how hard your parents work for you? You’re their darling baby, hon.”

“He said that if I said then I would have no food to eat.”
 

Hold up.

WHAAAT???

So YiJeong froze. That darn boy just threw him under the Chu GaEul bus!
 

Looking up at the man-child peeking from behind his fingers, GaEul hissed: “I will get you for this!”

He flinched.

“JinWoo yah, don’t say that word, it’s rude.”

“Oh no, teacher, I said that word and now Omma and Appa will hate me!” JinWoo fretted, ready to cry another river.

“No, honey, come here.”

As JinWoo crawled into GaEul’s embrace, she willed highly poisonous daggers to fly over the top of his head, aimed at the man named So YiJeong.

So YiJeong turned away, not wanting to meet those accusing midnight black.

 

“Hey it’s Pororo!” an oddly chipper child exclaimed.

Cheeks not tear stained, not red, and with no sign of wet flowing mucus anywhere, a happy little boy tottered towards the toys and plopped himself right next to the bewildered (but nevertheless whose heart had done a small leap for someone had recognised his efforts) man who had before him a bag full of stuffed toys shaped in the form of characters from the widely popular children’s cartoon series Pororo.

“CheonNi-yah, Pororo da!” the ecstatic youngster waved an aviator goggles clad penguin who would otherwise never be able to fly high above his head and smiling as brightly as a thousand light bulbs, willing his friend to come over and join the fun.

CheonNi looked at the happy boy, hiccupping and choking back a few sobs while beginning to stand, appearing to join his friend but then shot a wary look at YiJeong.

“Hey, kids, these are all for you!” YiJeong made wide sweeping motions with his arms, gesturing to the bag of toys.

“Ahjusshi, really?” the boy sitting right beside him asked, excited, a bright sparkle lit up his eyes.

“Yeah dude,” YiJeong replied.

“Hey it’s all ours!” the exhilarated boy bounced on the floor, not too unlike Tigger from Winnie the Pooh.

So YiJeong grabbed hold of two toys, Crong and Loopy, twisting his wrists clockwise and anti-clockwise in an attempt to appeal the toys to the wary children.

With one look at their teacher who encouraged them to go have fun, soon, all of them were rushing to the table, claiming for each of themselves their favourite character.

Chu GaEul got up from where she was seating, smiling in relief. She stalked towards the unexpected troublemaker who had backed off from his bag of gifts, giving the children more space to clamour for their favourite toy.

From cries to smiles and laughter. All that only took fifteen minutes and So YiJeong had wondered why he couldn’t understand children.

And then he was rudely dragged outside.

Right in front of him, Mrs So-Chu GaEul was looking at him, lips pursed, arms crossed, foot tapping, ready and waiting for his great explanation.

YiJeong laughed uncomfortably and moved one step back, creating a greater distance between them in case he needed to run. Yeah, he was sort of guilty, but he wasn’t going to stand there and take her beating (even if harmless) like a fool. He raised his hands up in that international signature move signalling surrender and leniency.

“Hey, hey, Mrs So, I can explain.”

“Uh huh, please do explain how and why you introduced a cuss word to my entire class of five year olds and how you made them all cry, all in ten minutes. I send one child to get some first aid and this happens. Also, please explain what you are doing here aside from wrecking havoc and how you got the passwords to enter this kindergarten,” Chu GaEul demanded.

Then a flicker of realisation passed through her eyes. “Oh hell, no, So YiJeong, you did not just bribe The Principal for the password, did you?”

YiJeong’s eyes widened at her accusation, his reacting damning while he wondered how she got so smart.

GaEul gasped.

“So YiJeong, SERIOUSLY?”

“Hey, hey, Mrs So, you don’t want to be killing your own husband here!”

So YiJeong backtracked faster and faster with each footstep as Chu GaEul marched towards him, ready for some blood.

“Oh, kill you? I wasn’t going to, but I guess I should, huh, to free myself from this man-child who’s supposed to be my husband!”

“GaEul, darling, come on, think of all those good times! And murder is an offence worthy of capital punishment!”

But Chu GaEul was not deterred as she marched even faster, arms held akimbo. So YiJeong began sprinting down the hallway, his wife hot on his heels.

“You tell me, how am I supposed to explain what you taught them today to their parents?”

“I can help you charm their mothers, if it’s any help.”

“SO YIJEONG! COME BACK HERE AND DIE!”

“Hey teacher, I brought Pororo!”

“Pororo, my foot!”