"You'll be given an assignment. I expect you all to present it by the end of this week." He says, his voice loud and assertive.
The class is intense. I've spent the majority of it with my head down, trying to keep up as fast as I can, taking down notes. He's incredibly intimidating, yet brilliant at the same time. I feel inspired, the way he explains the basics of English Literature, the concepts behind fiction and character building is eye opening.
He walks around his desk and begins to pace down one aisle of students, placing thick booklets of paper on each desk. I can feel myself getting more and more nervous as I watch him approach me, his footsteps becoming louder as he comes closer.
He looks down at me, catching my eyes. He stares at me for a couple of seconds, before he places a booklet down on my desk slowly, proceeding to walk behind me and further down the aisle.
I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding. Why is he making me feel this way? I feel singled out, as if he's trying to intimidate me on purpose. Is it because I'm not from here?
I mentally shake my head, and grab the assignment workbook, placing it in my bag. I watch him as he continues handing out the booklets, before making his way back to the front of the class.
He lifts his head, carefully eyeing each student individually.
"Class dismissed." He says, his tone low.
Everybody gets up from their desks at the same time, heading out of the room in an orderly line. I watch their behaviour, slightly confused. Is it just how the schools are in Korea that everybody is so orderly, or is it just in the presence of Mr. Kim?
I grab my bag and stand up, throwing it over my shoulder. I tuck my chair under the desk, keeping my head down as I'm too afraid to make eye contact with him.
"Miss Collins." He mutters.
I look up and spot him sitting at his desk, leaned back, twirling a pen between his fingers.
"Yes, Sir?" I respond, freezing on the spot, an overwhelming sense of fear taking over me.
"Do you have a moment?" He asks, his eyes burning into mine.
I swallow hard, my breathing beginning to pick up.
"Yes."
He raises his free hand and gestures for me to come closer. I approach his desk slowly, gripping onto the handle of my bag tightly, my legs beginning to shake.
I stand opposite him, desperately trying to cover my heavy breathing. He continues to stare at me, an intense gaze that makes me feel on edge, as if I'm a piece of meat.
"I hope you understand I can't be teaching every class speaking only in English. How is your Korean, how much do you know?"
"N-None, Sir." I stutter, biting the inside of my lip nervously.
He inhales deeply, before letting out an exacerbated sigh. He sits forward, his chair creaking quietly with his movement.
"May I see your notes?" He asks, holding out his hand.
My eyes widen, before I fidget with the zip on my bag, clumsily pulling my notebook out and placing it in his palm.
He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he opens it. I watch as his eyes scan across the page, an unreadable expression on his face, his lips pouted slightly in concentration.
"Hmm." He hums, nodding his head.
He clicks his tongue, closing the book before passing it back to me. He leans his elbows on the surface of his desk, joining his hands together as his eyes make their way to mine again, a tiny smile forming on his lips.
"It's good."
I feel a sense of relief wash over me, and I almost scream.
"Thank you, Sir!" I exclaim, louder than I intended to.
He begins to scribble something on a note with his pen, ripping it off and handing it to me.
"Come to my office at this time after school. I have a proposition for you."
I scan the note, telling me to come to his office at 5:30pm this evening for a formal meeting.
I quickly raise my head and look back at him, fear, worry and anxiety taking over me. I gulp, my hands beginning to shake. I nod my head and force a smile on my face, bowing to him.
"Yes, Sir."
"You may go." He mutters, pulling a large pile of papers to the centre of his desk.
I don't hesitate, and as quickly as I can, I head for the exit. I close the door behind me, back in the hallway, the loud sea of students filling the hallways once again.
I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair, attempting to calm my racing heart.
The echo of shoes walking against the hard floor, the overlapping voices and doors slamming start to ring in my ears, getting louder and louder. My breath begins to become erratic and unstable, my fingers turning numb and my head hurting.
I feel a panic attack coming on, and I run to the nearest room, slamming the door behind me. I lean against the surface, sliding down to the floor.
It's my first day in a new school in a new country, isn't he being a little too overbearing? Can't he cut me some slack, lay off the intimidating shit?
I feel myself becoming irritated, I'm being made to feel uncomfortable.
I've known him for just little over an hour and I'm already terrified of him. It feels like I'm walking on glass, petrified that anything I say or do is wrong and that he'll punish me for it.
Maybe I can bring it up to him in the meeting tonight? Just try to reason with him, to maybe lay off a little.
What could go wrong?
**
The rest of the day goes by quickly, unfortunately, due to the language barrier it's difficult for me to learn much, but the teachers acknowledge my lack of Korean skills, and they try to teach me the best they can in English separately.
I feel like a burden, that I'm putting more strain on the teachers, causing more work for them and extra stress.
I've barely spoken a word to anybody today. I feel like an outcast, and people seem to be avoiding me like the plague. They're clearly not used to seeing somebody like me here.
I check my watch, noticing it's 5:20pm, and I make my way to his office, the crippling fear beginning to take over me again.
I stand outside his door, building the courage to knock. I weakly raise my fist, and knock lightly three times, waiting for an answer.
"Come in." I hear a muffled voice from inside the room. I shakily turn the doorknob, and open the door, walking inside.
"Take a seat." He says, pointing to the leather armchair opposite his desk.
I comply and take a seat, placing my bag on the floor. I look around the room, taking in the decor and hundreds of books lined up perfectly on the shelves.
A circular, patterned rug sits in the middle of the room, each wall covered with awards and degrees. His desk sits at the back of the room cluttered with miscellaneous objects, and two brown leather arm chairs opposite.
There's a fresh smell, like lavender soap mixed with sandalwood.
I watch him as he finishes marking papers, waiting patiently. I twiddle my thumbs and continue to admire the decoration of his office, impressed by the amount of framed awards he has lined on the walls.
"Miss Collins."
I jump in my seat, quickly turning my head to look at him.
"Yes?"
"There's something I'd like to discuss with you." He begins, standing from his seat.
I follow his movement as he makes his way around the desk, walking to one of the many bookshelves, and pulling a book out.
"Firstly, I need to see your work." He walks back over, leaning against the edge of his desk facing me.
"I want you to write a short story, and present it to me by the morning. It can be about anything you want. Any genre, any time, place, setting..." He trails off, opening the first page of the book.
"I need to see your writing style. I'd like a minimum of 5 pages."
"Si-" I go to speak, but he interrupts me.
"Based off of your notes this morning, if I were to make an educated guess; I'd say you're familiar with the work of Charles Dickens, and you're quite partial to Great Expectation in particular."
I'm stunned. I sit there in shock, my mouth agape and my eyes wide.
"Am I correct?" He locks eyes with me, the intimidating aura showcasing itself again.
"Yes..." I mutter, gripping on the hem of my skirt.
"I thought so." He stands up, taking in a deep breath.
"Like I said, your story can be about anything you want, but I want you to write it in your own style. Understood?" He places the book down on the desk, his lean body towering above me.
"Yes." I respond, nodding my head.
He turns his head, checking the time on the clock.
"Mr. Kim... I actually have something I'd like to discuss with you too." I say quietly, biting my lip.
"What is it?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
"This morning in class, I felt a little uncomfortable. I'm still adjusting to the drastic change in my life, and if it's possible, I'd like to ask if you can give me the benefit of the doubt?" I mutter, avoiding his strong gaze.
I can feel his eyes burning into me from my peripheral vision, his head tilted.
"You want me to give you special treatment. Is that what you're asking?"
"No I-" I wave my arms and begin to protest, but he cuts me off.
"Miss Collins, you're in my class on your own choice. If it's too much for you, you're welcome to leave. Whether it's your first day, or your one hundredth day, I will treat you how I treat every student."
"You're here because you want to become an author. The student with the highest passing grade has the opportunity to kickstart that dream, there's a lot riding on this, and it's not something I, or you should take lightly." He says, his voice loud and dominant.
"Yes, I understand. I'm sorry." I mumble, looking back down at my hands in my lap.
He has a point. There's a reason he's so strict, it's not a normal class. I want this, and I want it bad, so I need to suck it up.
"I'll get started on the assignment right away." I say, confidence evident in my tone. I grab my bag from the floor and stand up, throwing it over my shoulder.
"I expect to see it on my desk at 8am. I suggest you leave and start as soon as possible." He says, walking back around his desk, sitting down in the chair.
"I will." I respond, turning on my heels and exiting the room.
I walk down the empty hallway, a heavy feeling on my chest. Is this what I have to expect from him, in every class?
And I have to endure this for a whole year.