“Make sure to eat everything on your lunch pack, okay, kiddo?”

I turned my head and saw a man (presumably a father) with his back turned to me, crouching so he’s eye-level with a cute little kid. I smiled as I watched him ruffle the child’s hair, hugging him one last time before telling him to go inside. I expected the kid to cling to his dad: it’s always hard on the first day of school for these children because they’re being left alone for the first time. Instead, the child waved goodbye, clutched his backpack straps, and turned to go to class.

The man stood up, watching his son go in. Just then, I saw a glimpse of his face: chubby cheeks, cat-like eyes, and a button nose. He looked—what’s the word for it?—pretty. And too young to be a father. I studied his profile, wondering what his story was. As if he knew I was looking, he turned to me and gave me a polite smile, bowing briefly before heading out the door. I returned the smile, watching him walk away. I tucked away his smile in my memory before heading to class.

“Good morning!” I chirped to my little kids, excited to meet new faces for another school year. I look into all twenty kids’ faces, gauging what to expect from them as the year progresses. Some still have tear-stained faces from the earlier goodbye with their parents, others have excited expressions on their faces, ready to take on their five-year-old worlds. I couldn’t help but smile. I love this job, and I love seeing their beautiful faces every day. It’s as fulfilling as a job goes. My eyes travel to a familiar looking kid in the back row—he’s the man’s son earlier. He’s neither smiling nor frowning, quietly sitting on his little chair.

“My name is Ms. Cha, and I’ll be your teacher!” I pointed to the name card pinned on my chest, smiling to each of them in turn, making sure I had their attention. “Before we begin our adventure together, I want to play a game. Who wants to play a game?”I watched as all my kids raised their hands, little smiles slowly decorating their faces.

“Okay. So here is how it goes: I want you guys to give me your best monkey face.” I looked at them as they all configured their faces every which way to look like a monkey. I laughed and called their attention back to me. “When I say monkey face, I want you to look like this.” I blew up my cheeks, held onto my ears with both index fingers and thumbs, and stretched them out until I know I looked silly. The children laughed, and I quickly let go of my silly pose, laughing along with them. “Now you try it.” I watched as they all grew silent, mimicking my monkey face. It’s my attention signal for them: they don’t touch anything, and they can’t say anything. It works every year. “Very good! From now on, I want you all to do that, okay? You have to be quick! Let’s try that again. Give me… your best monkey face!” I watched as all of them did it faster. I smile for the millionth time, wondering whether there could be a better job in the world.

The rest of the morning went by smoothly, and I’ve gotten to talk to more than half of my students. This year is a promising bunch: there are a few shy kids sprinkled all around, but none of them are troublemakers. A few minutes of talking to each of them and I knew they’d be excited to return tomorrow. I walked over to the next table to chat up my last group of students. They were all quietly coloring, each in their own little-kid universe.

“How do you like today, so far?” I sit down on the mat-covered floor, resting my hand on my lap.

“It’s really really fun, Teacher!” cute Dakyum said, turning to me with a beaming smile.

I nodded at her, beaming in return. “What did you like about today?”

“Story time! My mommy reads that story to me every night,” she said emphatically, her eyes widening adorably.

“How about you, Jiseok?” I turned to the little kid, waiting for his answer. I know I shouldn’t be favoring students, but I couldn’t help myself. I was most curious about this little boy. I remember how mature his little act had been earlier when he waved goodbye and left—no tears in his eyes at all.

“I…” He looked like he was having difficulty thinking of an answer. That’s when I noticed how pale he looked and the thin sheet of sweat on his forehead. I immediately went over to him. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

He looked at me, pointing to his backpack. “Water.”

I quickly dug through his things and handed him his water bottle.

I scooted myself closer to him, watching him finish the whole thing. “Are you okay?” I repeated.

“Thirsty,” he said weakly. I smelled his breath—why was it so sweet?

“We’ll bring you to the clinic, okay?” I ran over to the hallway, fortunately seeing a free colleague.

“Mr. Park, can you watch my class while I bring one of my kids to the clinic?”

“Sure.”

I ran back to the classroom and clutched Jiseok’s hand, praying that he’ll be alright. He was dragging his feet, exhaustion lining his face.

“We’re almost there,” I reassured him, squeezing his hand.

“I need to pee,” he suddenly said when we reached the nurse’s office.

“Okay.” I didn’t know whether to leave him alone in there. “Call out to teacher if you need anything, alright?”

He nodded, going into restroom. I took the opportunity to talk to the nurse.

“I’ll have to call his guardian to let him home. But do you know what this could be? He’s been really thirsty, he has a really sweet breath, and it’s the third time he’s asked to go to the bathroom in the last half hour.”

The nurse shook her head. “No matter how I look at it, it seems like he has Type I Diabetes.”

I felt my jaw slacken. Do his parents know about this?

“Are you sure?” My mouth suddenly felt dry.

“That’s the only explanation for his symptoms.”

I nodded numbly, seeing Jiseok come out of the restroom. I remembered the extra candy bar I always have stowed on my cabinet.

“Lie down for a second, alright? Teacher will be right back.” I patted his head and quickly ran to my classroom to grab a Snickers bar.

“Here.” I opened the wrapper and held the chocolate to him. “Eat, okay? I’ll just call your parents.”

He took it from my hands and started wolfing it down. I dialed his emergency contact, tapping my fingers against the nurse’s table.

“Hello?” A male voice answered.

“Jiseok-appa? Can you come to school right now? He’s not feeling well.”

“I’ll be right there.” She heard the worry in his voice.

“Okay. We’ll be in the clinic.”

I looked over my shoulder and saw Jiseok sleeping, his half finished chocolate bar loosely hanging from his hand. How could this be happening to a child?

Within a few minutes his father ran into the room, panting and worried.

“Where’s Jiseok?”

I stood up and motioned him towards the bed. “He’s sleeping now, and he should be fine for the time being.”

“What exactly happened?”

I took hold of his arm and led him away from the sleeping child. “I don’t know how else to bring it up, but did you and your wife know that your son has diabetes?” I asked with as much sensitivity as I could.

“What?” He looked as if someone punched him in the gut.

I stayed silent as he tried to wrap his brain around the idea. After a few minutes, I started wondering whether I should break the silence.

He suddenly spoke up. “I’m not Jiseok’s dad.”

I stared at him. “Oh.”

“His mother, my sister, is a widow,” he continued. I waited for him to go on.

“For the last three years, I’ve just been helping out. My sister’s been working three jobs to support them, so no one could really take care of Jiseok.”

I nodded, feeling for the boy. That explained the way the child carried himself, the way he seemed to act beyond his years.

“I don’t know how Nuna can do this—they’re barely getting by with her multiple jobs.”

I bit my lip, feeling helpless in the situation.

“We’ll get through this somehow,” he said with new determination in his eyes.

We both stood up. “Jiseok-ap—“ I stopped myself. He wasn’t Jiseok’s dad. Right.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“Minseok. Kim Minseok.” He extended his hand.

“Cha Juhyun,” I returned his handshake, feeling his warm calloused hands wrap around mine firmly.