My Story

• Leo Choi, Grade 7, Baulkham Hills High School
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

A young teacher asked me something that sounded like muffled nonsense as I stood uncertainly in the playground, I couldn’t understand a word of what she had just said. I’d been sitting lost in my worthless thoughts on why I had to attend an English school where I was constantly bullied, rejected and belittled by the community and even worse, I didn‘t know anything nor understood a word of English. It was like being thrown into the deep end of a pool not being taught how to swim. I began to panic. The helpless feeling you get as if drowning, being pulled down by the sheer force of your own gravity to a new world where chaos and confusion existed. It had been more than one year since I had arrived in Australia, the land of 'milk and honey', the country of opportunities and happiness, yet I didn’t know how to speak a word of English to enjoy any of its beauty.
All I wanted to do was to go back to the school where I could communicate fluently with the students and the teachers. All I wanted to do was to go back to my homeland, my sanctuary. All I wanted to do was to go back to Korea, where I would come home with a bright big smile- a smile that was genuine, one that would last longer than the conversation with mum and dad at the dinner table.
I managed to mutter something in Korean but it was no use, this was Australia and I needed to learn how to speak English. I tried shuffling away from the teacher, making great effort to ignore her presence but it was still no use. The teacher grabbed me by my shoulders with a powerful grip and spoke to me in a much harsher tone than before. I was aghast.
Having no choice, I tugged my arm away from the forceful grip of the teacher as I struggled with all my 6 year old might trying my best to pull away from the unyielding palms of the teacher until she pushed me away and I ran. I ran the fastest I had ever run before to escape the embarrassment as if it were chasing and taunting me. While tears dripped down my scrawny face, I ran past all the other kids who were leaping with joy -winning games with friends which I had none, I ran past all the bullies who had always blocked my path wherever I went. I ran past all the fair-haired, blue eyed children who had never let me come near their area until finally; I arrived at a small corner where only a skinny and fragile kid like me could squeeze in.
I could hear the bell of depression booming out of the speakers like an alarm, echoing in like a yodel in the depth of the mountains. Yet I felt safe and reassured in this cramped refuge; I was going to skip class again.