The Road I Chose

One day several years ago when I was going around to find school-aged children I happened to know Un Yong who was diagnosed with cerebral palsy and could not move herself. The seven-year-old girl was standing with the support of crutches, and I learned that she hadn’t enrolled in kindergarten, and even gave up going to school. That night I was obsessed with her image gazing at me until I turned around the corner.

The next morning I went to see the headteacher of my school. I told him I wanted to take charge of Un Yong and help her go to school like normal children. Then the headteacher, who was the age of my father, advised me to reconsider it because I would be married any of those days, which might make me unable to look after her until she finished school. “It’ll add to her sorrow,” he said. And yet he told me how I should be prepared if I was to choose to help her. After hearing his words, I finally made up my mind.

To begin with, I taught Un Yong how to hold a pencil and the ABC of the spoken and written language. Sometimes I sat up far into the night developing her ability to do elementary mathematical calculation. Rain or snow, I took her on my back and walked four kilometres from her home to the school every day. I was soaked with perspiration, and more than once I got bruises on my knees as I slipped on the snowy road. Sometimes I felt exhausted. I, however, was pleased to see the bright smile of the girl sitting in the sunny classroom, free from all worries.

One Sunday of the rainy season a year later, I felt like having a rest. But I thought of Un Yong who had been disappointed to have a poor result in a math examination. This urged me to go to see her. To my embarrassment, however, the stream had swollen up to my belly. Torrents of water seemed to swallow me. Gripped with fear, I nearly turned back, but when I remembered Un Yong who I knew would be expecting me I braced myself and began to cross the stream. Holding a stick in one hand I moved step by step. When I got to her house, I was so exhausted that I had not the energy to say even a word. But when I saw the girl greeting me gladly, I felt completely refreshed. It was worth the trouble I took.

From the next school term Un Yong ranked among the top-honour pupils, and she could solve any difficult problems in maths reference books.

Her remarkable progress was the worth of my life. One of those days when I entered the classroom after organizing an after-school sports activity I noticed her looking stonily through the window at other pupils playing in the ground. The pitiful image of her hurt my heart. That day I reproached myself for feeling satisfied with teaching alone, and resolved to make her walk freely. The Okryu Children’s Hospital flashed into my mind first. Via telemedicine I met the vice director of the hospital who was in charge of technical affairs. He said the young girl had better begin with kinesitheraphy. I was buoyed by his suggestion.

The next day I took Un Yong out to do walking exercise holding her by the hands. When she moved a step, she trembled with a severe pain, falling down on the spot before moving the second step. “Stand up! If not, you’ll regret yourself all your life!” I cried out anxiously. Then she put all her energy in raising herself and made another step. I had to exert more effort. I first went to the people’s hospital in the county and then travelled to hospitals in other counties to get advices from experienced doctors. I explored the deep mountains for medicinal herbs. When the head of the department of the cerebro-neurological surgery of the Okryu Children’s Hospital volunteered to conduct an operation on her, I didn’t hesitate to take her on my back to the hospital.

The operation took about five hours. And the rehabilitation treatment spanning several months required much more sweat and perseverance. But under the care of doctors and nurses of the hospital who took care of us as their family members we could return home with happy news in the long run.

Still vivid is my memory of the ceremony of children’s joining the Korean Children’s Union on the Day of the Shining Star last year. The audience was surprised to see Un Yong—who had walked on crutches or been taken on others’ back—standing in the middle of the front row of the children. When the signal of entrance was given, the children marched forward to the rostrum, singing a song in chorus. The onlookers held their breath, watching Un Yong. She stepped forward proudly up to the flag of the Children’s Union. Amidst the clapping a red tie of the union was put around her neck. Then, to my surprise, she dashed towards me, instead of her mother. The spectators shed tears of emotion, saying that I became her “mother” after all my efforts without making any home of my own.

In this way Un Yong regained her cheerful life, and now is a pride of the school as an exemplary member of the sub-branch of the Children’s Union of the school. She often says she will become a teacher like me by working hard. This fills my mind with happiness about my efforts.

In May last I was chosen as a delegate to the 2nd National Conference of Model Youth of Virtue and had an honour of addressing the conference. Inwardly, I said loudly, “I thought I was making my career by myself. But now I know it is not true. As I’m under the great care of the benevolent national leader, our youthful days will remain honourable forever.”

Ri Kyong Sim,

primary course teacher of Kumsa Senior Middle School,

Kumya County, South Hamgyong Province