In one sunny day of July, I dyed my hair blonde for no specific reason. After 8 hours of dyeing, I was awestruck by my hair, and decided to make something out of it. I braided my waist-long hair and put up an advertisement online - "English-Speaking Elsa for Hire! Teaches children from ages 5-7". It was cheesy marketing, but minutes after posting the advertisements, I received numerous phone calls and text messages from 'Gangnam mothers' rushing to hire me before others. I almost felt as if I was a merchandise being placed bids. I was soon hired by one mother - the highest bidder - and was visiting the luxurious, extravagant Gangnam villa three times a week, saying overly cheerfully "Hi, I'm Elsa and I'm here to help you do your homework!" The child I was to tutor was named was five-and-a-half years old, and it seemed that his mother had hired me to help him do his homework from his "English kindergarten". Several days after tutoring the oddly not smiling child, I learned that I was one of the child's many tutors.
"I go to Taekwondo, Swimming, Soccer lessons, art classes, SOMA('creative math academy'), and Korean and Chinese teachers visit me. My mom hired you because I lack behind in homework grades… I hope you last longer," were the ominous words that came out of the child's mouth about my new job. What could have he been by 'I hope you last longer'?
Months after helping the child craft 'more wonderful sentences to excel ahead of others', I realized that there were odd things about how the child perceives his family. When I asked 'who's your favorite person in your family?' he answered 'Ajumma', who was not exactly his family but his 24/7 Chinese nanny… To my shock, he explained that he hated his mom for always yelling at him after coming home(his mother is a doctor, and so is his father).
After listening to his short perception of his family, I introduced new things to my curriculum. Since the child loved making things with his tiny hands, I brought tiny modeling kits to make after class, and tiny cards. I was teaching the child to rebel and to have fun, and to learn to love his mother. After making Iron Man paper figures, Lamborghini model cars, and wooden Eiffel towers, I slyly coaxed the child to write cards for his mother and his father.
My little program persisted from last November up to present, and I realize that the child is laughing more and runs out of my classes when he hears the door creak open to greet his mother. I am no longer his #1 favorite person in the world, but his mother is. I am currently #4, and I am much happy about it.