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(excerpt)
Like porcelain dolls, all the girls sat in their seats with their hands folded. They stared straight ahead at the blank chalkboard. There were no extra seats, so I quickly went to a corner and sat quietly on the floor hoping to stay out of trouble for the rest of the day. I had thought there might be a minute or two to chat and meet the other girls, but I was mistaken. Narita Sensei sat at her wooden desk and fussed about arranging her belongings. Then she took out her black book and surveyed the class. She motioned for me to come to her. “ Aoki Shizue ,” she said. I didn’t say anything. That was not my name. I knew my brothers had Japanese names that they used at school, but at home we called them by their Korean names or Christian baptismal names. To me they were just “ oppa ,” which meant “older brother.” I knew our last name was “Aoki” in Japanese, but I was not used to “ Shizue .” I stood before her, feeling confused and afraid.
Narita Sensei banged her ruler on her desk, which sent a pencil flying. It hit me in the eye and I started to cry. I wished she would let me go and sit down. Instead, she shouted, “You refuse to talk to your Sensei?” Unhi rushed up and said something to Sensei. This made Sensei even angrier. She pounded on her desk, and motioned for Unhi to sit down. I learned that the worst thing one could do was to speak up for your friend. We were to mind our own business at all times. Narita Sensei resumed the class. Everyone’s name was called. Mine was called again and I answered as all the other children had by saying, “ Hai, Sensei ” and raising my right hand. I knew I had no choice. My baptismal name and my Korean name would be used only at home from now on. Here I would have to answer to this strange Japanese name; I was someone I did not want to be and I had to pretend.
We then had to sing the “ Kimigayo ” all over again and pledge our undying devotion to the Emperor. I was relieved that I had learned the pledge, for Narita Sensei was watching me carefully. I did not want to get my family in trouble. I knew that if I did not behave, they might cut our rice ration or do something worse. Captain Narita knew exactly how best to punish us. I thought of how pale my mother looked that morning, and how skinny Inchun looked. They couldn’t take much more.
Finally, it was time to sit down and open our notebooks. I went back to my place on the floor. I wanted only to stay out of Narita Sensei’s sight. Sensei put up two poster-boards. One was a picture of two Japanese pilots standing in front of a shiny airplane with Japanese flags painted on the wings. The other was a picture of two tall American soldiers in green fatigues, their faces painted black. Their planes were dirty and dilapidated. Narita Sensei pointed to the Japanese soldiers and had us repeat after her, “ Hikoki, hikoki, gawai hikoki ,” which meant, “Airplane, airplane, pretty airplane.” Then, pointing to the other picture, she said, “The White Devils are losing the war. See how funny they look.” She laughed and the children imitated her. She moved her pointer back and forth from one picture to the other, and I watched the children reciting these chants over and over as if they were familiar old songs. Narita Sensei smiled. “Well done, children,” she said.
One by one she called on every child to come up to the front of the classroom and lead the recitation. Unhi went first. She did exactly as she was told and the class repeated after her, and then the next girl went up. I looked at them in astonishment. How could they repeat these ridiculous slogans so easily? I felt sorry for them, and I wondered if these little girls really believed what they were saying. I was glad that I knew something about America.
There was no break from these tedious recitations. I wanted to go to the bathroom, but did not dare attract attention. As I was out of her line of vision, Narita Sensei seemed to have forgotten me. I was grateful to be left alone; I didn’t care that I didn’t have a desk or chair. As I listened to Narita Sensei’s shrill voice, I looked around. I saw one girl wiggling in her chair. Pretty soon, a little puddle formed beneath her. I looked around the room and counted four other little puddles. I looked up at their faces and saw them continuing to recite their lessons as if nothing were wrong. I couldn’t wait much longer myself and I sat squeezing my legs together hoping that I could manage to wait until she let us out.
Narita Sensei called on yet another girl to come up to the front of the room and lead the recitation. The girl had wet her pants. She was ashamed, and just sat in her chair, looking nervous and frightened. Narita Sensei whacked her ruler against the side of her desk and shouted at the girl to come up to the board. The girl stood up. The back of her skirt was dripping wet. Narita Sensei looked at her in disgust and asked the whole class to take out their cleaning bags. Each girl had a little bag with some rags and some polishing wax. The children started to push all the chairs and tables back to one side of the classroom, and got on their hands and knees to wax the whole floor. It all seemed very routine to them. No one spoke. Those who had wet their pants seemed relieved to clean up the little puddles they had made.
I stood and watched. She made us all feel worthless and ashamed of ourselves. Unhi saw me and quickly tossed me a rag and part of her stick of wax. We crawled about the floor polishing it as best we could. When we finished, the girls arranged all the desks and chairs, and put their rags and sticks of wax neatly in their desks. They sat quietly and waited for Narita Sensei to continue with the lessons. I was amazed at their efficiency. I knew that this would soon become routine for me, too.
I took my place on the floor. After a long while, Narita Sensei looked up at the class and said with a big smile, “You Koreans are so good at following orders. You are lucky that the Japanese soldiers are here to protect you from the White Devils, aren’t you?” “ Hai, Sensei! ” the children shouted in unison. “Remember your happiness depends on the victory of the Imperial soldiers,” she said as the bell rang. Our hands were dirty and caked with wax, but we sat and ate our lunches in silence. I tried to take out the splinter in my finger. Then like the others, I started eating my lunch.
Narita Sensei left the room and an older girl came in to watch us. I looked over at the little girl who had put me at the head of the line. She had been one of the girls who had wet her pants. I felt sorry for her. I noticed she had no lunch box. All she had to eat were two little rice balls sprinkled with salt. I pushed my lunch box over toward her. There were still some beans left, and a bit of egg. It smelled so good because Mother had cooked with a little bit of sesame oil, and I knew the little girl would like some. The big girl saw me sharing my lunch, and immediately took it away. She walked out with it, and that was the last time I saw the beautiful lunch box that Grandfather had made. Later Unhi grabbed me and said, “Mind your own business. Never help any of the other girls in the class. It’s a bad thing to do. Just take care of yourself.”
After lunch, the whole school gathered in the yard. The June sun was hot, but I was glad to be out of that classroom. We were given big burlap bags and told to fill them with sand and pile them against the wall. After about an hour of this, a voice over the loudspeaker said, “That’s enough. Now get those stones and pile them up near the sand bags. When the White Devils come, we need those stones to throw at them.” I looked at the boys on the other side of the yard, and saw that they were doing something with the bamboo poles. “Line those bamboo spears neatly against the wall,” said the voice over the loudspeaker “Remember when the White Devils come each must grab one and stab them.”
That was my first day of school. When I went home, Mother did not ask me any questions. She looked at my dirty hands and my sunburnt face. I knew she saw that I didn’t have my lunch box. I told her about my new Japanese name and I asked her to call me by my Korean name at home as often as she could. I started to sob. “Sookan, Sookan,” she murmured as she held me tightly in her arms and rocked me gently. Her body felt very hot against mine, and I knew she was sick. “The war will be over soon and the Japanese will leave, right Mother?”
“Yes, yes, soon,” she replied. “Soon it’ll all be better” Exhausted from the afternoon, I rested my head on Mother’s lap as I listened to her reassuring words. How glad I was to be at home for the evening.
I wished morning would never come, but it did, all too soon. I felt like announcing, “I am not going to that horrible place again this morning.” But I knew if I didn’t go to school, my family would be in trouble with Captain Narita and the police. She handed me two little balls of rice and millet wrapped in a damp white handkerchief to keep them moist. She forced a smile. Quietly, I took my lunch and left for school. I thought of all the other girls in my class who had to endure this with me. They had been there much longer than I had. Maybe it won’t be so bad today, I kept thinking as I walked along the streets Aunt Tiger had shown me.