While the clumsy bear confronts human malice head-on, being mentally eroded in the process, Siyeon, instead of sitting at the computer, cleverly settled down at a low desk and opened her backpack.
The thing I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with again was the so-called homework.
“Mari, what’s this?” Siyeon asked, pointing to a page in her math book.
The problem presented was 5 minus 3. I could have just told her the answer, but that wouldn’t help a student who was still trying to grow her mind.
“Okay, spread out your left hand. How many fingers did we say we had?”
“Five!”
“Now let’s fold down three of them. How many are left?”
“Uh, um… two!”
“And what does two represent again?”
With successful, tailored educational guidance, the number 2 was drawn in a curve at the tip of my pen.
Elementary school studies are merely common sense. Up to this point, I could teach her without any difficulty.
“Well done, that’s the right answer!”
“Yay!”
‘Elementary school work is so simple…’
Thinking that, I stayed next to Siyeon for a moment, helping her solve the rest of her homework with hints.
The real challenge started from middle school. I couldn’t remember anything past the common sense level of elementary school education. Venn diagrams, probability, and statistics—where do those come in handy? Even if I needed them, there are countless calculators on the internet that can tell you.
‘Oh, I used to know that?’
Watching Siyeon work made me recall my own homework, and I quickly pushed my keyboard aside and finished it. It was homework I had completely forgotten about, something I could have started as soon as I got to school. Copying or repeating a few characters wouldn’t take more than a few minutes.
I wrapped up the homework quickly and enjoyed some retro games while waiting for Siyeon to finish hers. Once she was done, I’d step aside and show her some animations to wind down.
The next morning on the way to school, I carefully crossed the narrow road in the children’s safety zone, where cars moved cautiously. Just then, a loud honk sounded, followed by the laughter of children.
“Wahaha!”
There was a narrow crosswalk with no traffic signal. Children suddenly darted out in front of slowly moving cars, enjoying the thrill of narrowly escaping them.
It was a dangerous game that had become popular among kids from about third grade onward—avoiding cars at the last moment.
With the protection of the children’s safety zone, these elementary school kids were untouchable. The law automatically placed all blame on the drivers, and the kids exploited this loophole.
Watching them made me inevitably side with the theory of original sin, believing that humans are fundamentally evil.
‘They’ll only learn their lesson after breaking a bone or two while playing like that.’
I recalled the numerous news articles I had seen recently about such incidents.
Some cunning kids even intentionally ran into slow-moving cars, demanding compensation at that young age.
If they met a truly reckless driver, it could be fatal. These kids really have no regard for their lives.
Kicking my slippers as hard as I could, I walked into the school through the door on the side.
As usual, the central hallway and main staircase of the school were somehow off-limits to students. I still couldn’t figure out the reason for that as I made my way to the classroom.:
“Ah, I want to go home.”
That’s the first thought that hits me as I sit down in class.
Life as a first grader, learning what I already know again.
Is there any time more futile and meaningless than this?
After a short wait, the teacher’s two little minions arrive.
Two kids, the class president and vice president, fooled by their hollow titles, come into the classroom holding a plastic container filled with milk cartons.
I get up from my seat as if it’s second nature and grab a milk carton from the container at the front of the class.
From the front pocket of my backpack, I pull out a cookie-and-choco-flavored stick that I’ll mix with my milk.
I tear one side of the milk carton and pull it to create a sharp opening, then twist the stick with my thumb and index finger to rip open the end.
“Hey, can I have some too?”
As they catch a whiff of the powder stick, the pure little beasts start gathering one by one.
Of course, it comes to this.
“Why should I?”
Without even tilting my head, I dump a stick directly into my milk carton’s opening.
These kids are incredibly shameless.
Especially this one who came all the way up to ask for the stick to mix in his milk.
A kid who knows no manners, always bringing up my name in relation to tteokbokki whenever he’s bored.
“I won’t tease you by calling you Kim Mal! Just give me one!”
Does he still think he’s in kindergarten? He’s clinging to me, throwing a tantrum.
“Thanks!”
“Me too! Me too!”
As I start giving one to a kid, the others are looking for an opportunity and stealthily approaching.
After all, it’s a pack of 20 sticks, only about 4,000 won for some cheap sugar powder.
“Here, eat up, you shameless little brats.”
I thought controlling them with food was the best idea.
I decided to just throw out the sticks I had kept in the front pocket of my bag.
“Wow!”
The little kids didn’t even understand the meaning of my words and were solely focused on the sticks.
With the sticks stuck between their fingers, they eagerly grabbed them like chopsticks.
Among them, those kids who had been teasing me with my name, I wondered if they had self-studied manners.
It was the most ridiculous thing that they were the first to grab the sticks without a hint of awareness.
Are they truly lacking parents, self-studying manners on their own?
It’s a pure question that lingers in my mind.
Since I didn’t say it out loud, I wasn’t actually cursing their parents.
‘Shameless little brats.’
After mentally cursing them, I tried to drink my milk by firmly shaking the carton, holding the top and bottom with my small hands.
It didn’t quite close properly, and a little bit of milk spilled out of the torn opening.
As I held the carton, the milk that spilled onto my thumb and index finger was quickly licked off, letting me taste the faint chocolate milk flavor.
‘Not bad?’
Even if it’s not rich chocolate milk flavor, this isn’t so bad.
Much better than the artificial strawberry or banana flavors I usually find overwhelming, this suits my taste much more.
With just a taste, it left me wanting more.
To finish, I opened the carton after shaking it well and downed it all at once.
The little bits of chocolate lingered between my teeth, giving me a crunchy texture and a subtle sweetness.
The most noticeable thing is the bottom of the milk carton. There’s almost no residue left!
No matter how well I think I’ve mixed it, there’s always something clumped at the bottom, unlike the other three types, which is a great result.
After the announcement is over, there’s a brief moment of leisure before class begins.
Honestly, I didn’t need to pay attention to anything other than the homework I had to do. Still, there are always classes that you have to participate in.
“Alright, everyone! Today we’re going to draw a picture of ourselves achieving our dreams!”
“Yeeees!”
The classroom echoed with a sharp, collective scream that sounded almost like a shriek. The voices of children barely out of infancy scratched at my ears like the edge of a blade.
“Ugh.”
Amidst those booming voices, there was one voice that sounded defeated. The owner of that voice, well, what’s the point in saying it? Gripping a gray crayon, they stared at the blank paper with disgust.
This crayon might be something I’ve never held before in this life.
For the whole hour, I only scribbled on the blank paper. The other kids were arguing about whether to use blue or not, starting fights over trivial matters.
The teacher walked around the classroom, either evaluating the drawings of those who were diligently working or breaking up the fights.
Realizing things I hadn’t noticed before made me see the teachers’ struggles.
Ah, teacher. Only now do I understand that agony.
“Alright, if anyone wants to present, please come up and speak!”
After some time had passed, the teacher intended to select a few presenters due to class constraints. You might think there wouldn’t be many volunteers…
“Me!”
“I want to go!”
Countless hands shot up, some even raised both hands. It was indeed the age when kids wanted to show off.
“Okay, how about you, Hayani?”
“My dream is to be a great doctor! I want to heal the sick and create a world without pain!”
Doctors, teachers, YouTubers, chefs, police officers, professional gamers, magical girls, even soldiers. There was one oddity among them, but surprisingly, there were hardly any unrealistic jobs like president.
‘But there’s a soldier?’
I tilted my head, thinking that kids really didn’t understand much yet.
But don’t worry about that. Even if they don’t want to later, they’ll definitely get that experience.
“Hmph.”
A scoff slipped out naturally. After all the students who raised their hands had presented, the bell signaling break time still hadn’t rung. Maybe that’s why the teacher seemed to be looking for someone to ask a question.
“Let’s see, who hasn’t presented yet…”
The teacher scanned the room, searching for someone who hadn’t spoken.
I was among those who hadn’t.
I quickly buried my face in the corner of the teacher’s desk to avoid the teacher’s gaze.
But it was useless. There was no way the teacher wouldn’t notice a little kid with their head down.
“Mari, why don’t you get up and tell us what your dream is?”
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