Remember the Name

With the coming of fall, the few trees within the institute took on a richer red color, and the lowered temperatures meant that health was once again a primary concern for the staff. All the counselors of the institute were scrambling about, inspecting all every nook and cranny to ensure maximum hygiene and safety for the children. Boram Yoon, one of the new counselors to have joined over the summer, was no different, and she was currently checking every window to make sure that the chilly night wind wouldn’t seep in. Once she was sure that every opened window (they opened them during the day for ventilation purposes) was indeed closed, she returned to the counseling room. However, when she opened the door, she found one of the teachers standing there.

“What brings you here?” She asked. “I thought you’d be at the cafeteria, for dinner.”

“Oh!” The teacher yelped. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed Boram’s arrival. “Oh, Ms. Yoon. Is it time for dinner already?”

“Yes, but… Is something bothering you?” As a newcomer, Boram had no choice but to tiptoe around her senior. If a senior teacher looked upset, it was her duty to act accordingly, making sure to not get on their nerves.

“Oh, no. It’s nothing really.” The teacher stood there for a moment, pensive. Just as Boram was about to ask another question, the teacher spoke again, sighing as she crossed her arms. “It’s my kid, actually. He’s been begging for a phone lately, but it’s not like they come cheap. Besides, I don’t like how all the kids seem to be immersed in their smartphones lately, so I wanted to wait until he was older, but now I’m not so sure. I went home last night, and he practically got on his knees begging! Apparently he’s the only one in his class who doesn’t have one, and he cried about it. Telling me it was embarrassing and all.”

“How old is he?” Boram asked cautiously.

“He’s in third grade, now.”

“Oh… And all his friends are already using smartphones?” Boram couldn’t hide her surprise, and the teacher looked at her, smiling to show that she fully understood her reaction.

“You don’t know how fast they grow,” said the teacher. “But you’ll see, once you get married and have your own children. Things just aren’t like they used to be in my time. I’m sure it’s different from your time, too. Even my son, he started using internet before he even knew how to read! And he’d spend hours on his father’s phone, just playing games. I thought he was a genius at first. Turns out they’re all like that, now. They even know how to do online shopping! Kids these days, I swear.”

Kids these days… As soon as she heard this, Boram couldn’t help but turn her head to look out the window, at the two children running outside in the courtyard. It was almost dinnertime, and yet there they were, running about kicking their ball as if their lives depended on it. When the teacher noticed Boram’s distraction, she also turned to look at the children. “Ah, yes… Those children… They’re different, aren’t they? They’re naive, not so cunning. They listen to whatever you say, and don’t act up when you ask them to do things. And they have no one else to look after them. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it? That’s why we have to work harder, to protect them.”

Really? Boram held her hands behind her back and spoke carefully. “I don’t know if I would call them naive, and I don’t know about their cunning. I haven’t been here that long, after all. But looking at them, and seeing that they’re unable to go to PC rooms, when all their friends can… I can’t help but feel like they’re a bit isolated from society.”

At the mention of the word “isolated,” the teacher’s expression turned stern. She turned around and fully faced Boram. “Isolated? No, not that all. They’re being protected. Society can be so cruel, and those children have nowhere else to go. Imagine if we just let them go out without any preparation. They could be exposed to all sorts of crimes. Thievery, pickpocketing! Isn’t that a terrifying thought? It would only bring disaster, for the children and for society alike. I just want them to be safe until they graduate, and I will do whatever I can to help them in that. So I hope you can also keep a positive outlook when it comes to our children.” And with that, the teacher made it very clear that the conversation was over.

Boram thought that this teacher was very immersed in her job. She had clear standards and beliefs, and she obviously had no doubt in her mind that the institute was indeed protecting the children. Perhaps she was even stubborn in such beliefs, having worked here for as long as she had. However, as Boram saw it, she felt nothing but pity for the children. They had to give up so much just to live in this institute. Why wouldn’t they want smartphones? Why wouldn’t they want internet access? They couldn’t even do something as normal and common as going to PC rooms or karaoke with their friends. They weren’t even allowed to stop by and get some street food on their way back from school.

All that was allowed to them was playing out in the courtyard. None of the adults asked the children what they wanted, nor did they ever intend to. They simply didn’t have the means to provide what the children wanted. It was strange. Everywhere outside the institute was living in the 21st century, but the children in here were stuck in the 18th or 19th century. Maybe, Boram thought, the children felt more deprivation in their daily lives than any of the teachers suspected. Was that why they were so intent on kicking that ball around, even at such ridiculous hours?

On that chilly fall evening, one of the new additions to the institute staff continued to draw her own conclusions, sentimentality getting the best of her.

****

Lucid personally had no idea how intelligent he was. No matter how much his teachers or his friends, or even strangers, called him a genius and prodigy, he found it difficult to see himself as above others. Even when he got a perfect score on his tests, he knew that elementary level tests (for first grade, especially) weren’t meant to be challenging, and were rather designed so that over half of a given class would achieve a perfect score. So, as things were, Lucid simply didn’t have any objective, tangible evidence of his so-called geniality.

On the contrary, once he had started borrowing books from Ki-woong, he couldn’t help but feel that he was still severely lacking. As a high schooler, Ki-woong’s textbooks were very difficult to understand. Lucid couldn’t even begin to grasp math, and even the other textbooks were at a much higher level than even middle school subjects, meaning that a first grader like Lucid had no chance of understanding anything. Regardless, Lucid continued to devour book after book. Even if he didn’t understand the whole concept, he could still use it as a chance to learn about sentence structure and logical flow. This proved to be useful, as he now had an easier time understanding other books.

For Lucid, Ki-woong’s books were proof that he still had much to learn. Because he still couldn’t understand those books, he still wasn’t knowledgeable enough, which meant he wasn’t smart enough, which meant he had to study more. That was the conclusion he had reached. In other words, in very, very subjective terms, Lucid was nothing more than a regular child. However, for those who looked at him objectively, he was the prodigy of the century.

“Wait, you don’t think he’s a genius? Why?” Hee Yeon asked incredulously as she handed a cup of coffee to the sixth grade homeroom teacher.

“I mean, if he was, wouldn’t he know things without having to ask us? I feel like that’s what a genius is. Someone who just… knows.” The homeroom teacher, Mr. “Amontons”, took the coffee he was offered and laughed awkwardly.

“You have no idea how much he stresses me out,” confessed Hee Yeon. “Whenever he looks at me in class… I ever started to feel guilty about it. And I have to be on alert the whole time because I have no idea what he’ll ask me next… Lately, I just avoid looking at his general direction.”

“That makes sense. I’ve been teaching for ten years already, and I’d only ever heard of people like him. I never thought I would actually get to meet one.”

“Still, nowadays he doesn’t ask as many questions. Just reads his books. I’m pretty sure he’s purely self-taught at this point, but I can’t bring myself to tell him to pay attention. Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to leave him be.”

At this, Mr. “Amontons” gulped down his coffee and turned to look at Hee Yeon. “Mr. Kim, I understand you have a lot on your mind. But we’re not here just to feed these kids knowledge. Especially first graders. Isn’t there more we should be teaching them? We have a duty to see these children grow to be responsible adults. I’m sure you know how important personality training and building good morals. You have to make sure he walks down the proper path so that he can grow up to be a productive member of society and contribute to our country.”

At the older teacher’s sudden admonishment, Hee Yeon found herself at a loss for words. Still, he continued speaking.

“And you know, not to be harsh, but what if he turns to be bad? That could fall on you. Let’s say he becomes one of the worst killers in history, or a complete psychopath. With his smarts, he’d be called a genius murderer or a genius psychopath. Then let’s say he gets caught. Everyone would wonder who on earth taught him as a child, and blame you for letting him get that way. Wouldn’t your name be plastered on every news outlet along with his?”

Hee Yeon couldn’t help but inwardly roll her eyes at this sudden, quite ridiculous, leap in logic. Mr. “Amontons” must have noticed how far he had stretched, as he cleared his throat awkwardly and scrambled to change the subject.

“Anyway,” he said. “I heard he doesn’t visit the office as often.”

“Oh. No, he doesn’t.” Obviously, Hee Yeon thought. The office is empty every time he comes. A prodigy like him would realize that visiting simply wasn’t worth the trouble anymore.

“Oh. Well. I was more than willing to teach him if I saw him again, but… But, you know, the sixth graders are uh… Getting ready to graduate, so I’m as busy as every, eh? Is he still into the uh… Physics stuff?”

“Yes, but he seems to have changed his interests a bit.” Hee Yeon answered politely enough, though she was all but laughing to herself at the older teacher’s ridiculous pretentiousness.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, he was going on and on about friction, coefficient of friction, and resistance and all that, but now he’s more into temperatures, absolute zero, and molecular action.” Hee Yeon couldn’t help but grit her teeth at this last part. Molecular action! A first grader! Her head hurt just thinking about it. Apparently, Mr. “Amontons” also shared her pain, since he was nodding towards her in an understanding way.

“He really is a prodigy,” he conceded at last. “What if you were to mention to one of those TV shows?”

“A TV show?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t the media love it? They always love child prodigies.”

Hee Yeon thought about it briefly. It made sense, and it was quite an appealing thought. She could even land an interview or two, as his homeroom teacher.

“And see, if it were to go viral, then everyone would find out about his… Unfortunate circumstances, and maybe they could stard funds to help him out. Either way, don’t you think it would be good for him?”

She thought so, yes, but it wasn’t a decision she could make so easily. If he had parents, then she could go and ask them for permission, but… Well. That was that.

“Just try it. It’s not like they’ll air it as soon as you tell them about it. They’ll come and do background checks and stuff before deciding to make a show about it. Of course, it’ll be all for nothing if he just refuses, but you can worry about that later! Actually, you don’t even have to worry about it later. That’s for the broadcasting company to think about.”

So, it was good if it went through, and even if it didn’t, there were no serious consequences? Hee Yeon decided she would give it some serious thought.

“A TV show, huh?”