Without You, There Is No Us by Suki Kim Read Free Book Online Page A

“good morning” when I walked in and gave me a roll book, in which I was required to briefly note what I taught each day. I would eventually learn that there was also a vice monitor and secretary, whose identities were not revealed, and Dr. Joseph, a Korean-American missionary in his fifties and our liaison with the counterparts, had told us that any of these students or others might report on us or record the class with an MP3 player. The counterparts, he said, would read the students’ reports or listen to the recordings and would sometimes observe our classes. I became nervous that I had come this far only to be thrown out.
    My worries were unfounded. There had been a room change at the last minute, and I had walked into the wrong class. Instead of Class 2, I had just taught Class 1. The mix-up caused a great stir, and Beth was not sure whether I should just stick with Class 1 or start all over with Class 2. The problem was that Class 1 was composed of twenty-six top-ranked freshmen, and Class 4 of the twenty-four lowest-ranked, and since their levels differed so vastly, it would mean a lot more work for me, Beth said, adding that she would ask the counterparts for permission to let me teach whomever I decided on.
    I hesitated; part of me feared that more teaching duties would take time away from writing, the real reason I was there, but I knew this might be a great opportunity to experience the extremes of the student body. As I walked into the cafeteria after class, still uncertain, and joined the line for teachers and graduate students, a few of my Class 1 students ran up to me with anxious faces. “Will you be our teacher?” they asked. “Will you stay with us?” It appeared that rumors circulated fast in this tiny community—not surprising, perhaps, since most things were visible from every corner. “Is that what you all want?” I asked. They nodded eagerly as though I were about to present them with the biggest gift of their lives. So it was decided right then, and, though I did not understand it at the time, it was more than the decision to be just their teacher.
    When I found Beth in the cafeteria and told her that I would stick with Class 1, she reminded me that it would be a lot more work, but it did not seem like work, in that moment, to be their teacher. It felt more like choosing one child over another, and I have often wondered how my experience would have differed had I not walked into the wrong room. Because Class 1 was in fact a special group, the smartest, which in that world meant, among other things, that they followed orders very well. And it was that very quality, which seemed more particular to Class 1 than Class 4, that would bother me the most in the months to come.
    After my conversation with Beth, I saw the same boys staring intently at me from the lunch line. So I smiled and nodded, signaling to them that yes, I would indeed be their teacher. And the beaming smiles I received in return made that first day of teaching unforgettable. These young men were in many ways like children, with all their vulnerability and innocence intact, hanging on to my every move as though it would determine their destinies. Later I would wonder if it was decided in that moment that I would fall in love with them. We need to feel needed. We love the ones who want us.

4
    I AM FROM SOUTHERN STOCK . FOR GENERATIONS , MY FATHER ’ S Gwangsan clan of Kim settled in Chungcheong-do, the only province among the peninsula’s eight that is partly landlocked. People there are known for being mellow in temperament and kind in spirit, although such a reputation might be exaggerated by their countrymen, who feel sorry for them for missing out on the sea. I spent most of my childhood there, in a very big house surrounded by hills. I remember looking up at the sky for a rush of blue, which might have been a premonition of my later life on the isle of Manhattan.
    According to my grandfather, who often sat me and my