Eventually after dad died, mom's only possession was her private possessions, and her art classes. We lived with support from my maternal relatives. Kids in our neighborhood constantly reminded me of the absence of my father. Whenever I asked mom of dad's whereabouts, she told me that he was working in the US, because of the good working opportunities. Those nights, I would find her weeping secretly by herself and me being too young, I would get confused and try to make her stop weeping. Living was like this until I met my step-dad - whose wife also died of cancer - and moved to Hong Kong where his office was located. I was five by then. From this memory, I got enough shock to stop me forever from smoking, and I now realize how fortunate I am to have a normal family once again.
I came back to Korea when I was eleven. Now, I had to face a totally new learning environment. Korean schools are extremely strict. Since beating students is not against the law in Korea, some teachers often abused the students with an excuse that it was just a punishment. My very first teacher in Korea was that kind of teacher. His perverted ways of "punishment" still makes me mad when I think about it. Let me take an example. One of his punishments when a student talked was to order everyone to line up in front of the blackboard, and bang his or her head against it. He would watch the students banging their heads, tell them to blame the kid who talked, and snicker during the whole time, enjoying the show. The kids there liked to pick a fight with other kids who seemed to be weaker than they are. They were so aggressive because not only the place had a high crime rate and other bad things, they were the guys who always got beaten up in class for various reasons and were trying to find a way to release their stress. I would say that I had first learned how to fight in that neighborhood. No wonder, I had to defend myself almost everyday after school from these kids.