I don't know

             “I don’t know.”

This sentence is the one that makes me at once disappointed (due to the failure of the expectation) and somewhat relieved (due to the frankness of the person). Also, this sentence is the one that my father loves. Although it seems like a plain, colorless saying, it imposes the essence of my father’s personality.

My father who seems like an artful businessman is a plain-spoken person. He never pretends to know math problems that I asked. He never bluffs about the time when he was “my age”. He never lies when he breaks wind. Instead of all those common lies, he responds, “Actually, I don’t know what it is” or “At that time, I wasn’t that smart” or “Sorry. It was me”. Astonished at his outspokenness about himself, I can soon be relieved and also be honest to him.

However, his frankness sometimes becomes a dagger when it points at me.

I often play Haegum, a Korean traditional instrument, in home. And one day, when my father heard some off-pitch, he teased me, saying that I should practice Haegum more. At first, I thought he was just joking. However, when I asked him about that later, he said, “I really mean it. Girl, you got to improve a lot!” I had to admit that I made some off-pitch, but encountering with direct criticism was, well, shocking.

His candidness didn’t stop; it continued on my performance in academic subjects. He has never scolded me for bad performances: he has just been frank about my academic ability. When I asked him whether it would be fine to study physics rather than history, he said

“Isn’t it tough to study among the so-called wiz kids? They are science-oriented while you are….humanity-oriented.”

Having hoped for the positive opinion, I was very disappointed and hurt from his comment. Although he later approved the potential I have in studying physics, at that time, it was hard to discover the reality.

But I have to admit that while living with my father, I naturally got to learn how to be honest to myself and others. Unconsciously, like my father has done, I started to say and act in a candid way. Whenever I am not sure about some complex math problems, I simply admit that I don’t know and that I would study more about them. Whenever I mess up a test, I frankly say I messed up. Whenever I have to criticize others, I anyway do some criticism-constructive criticism, I believe.

 

             And among those influences I got, the most valuable lesson that I got is the way of dealing with challenge and failure. When facing a challenge, I started to think “Well, I just have to operate what I know.” And when facing a failure, I began to think “It is natural to be ignorant about something that I don’t know. I should just learn this and never forget.” This attitude learned from my father has been a lot of help when cheering myself up, especially from academic hardships.

             Nowadays, my father is still straightforward. He openly lauds on what I did well, criticizes on what I made mistakes, and openly speaks about his lights and shades. Always the same. However, I have changed a lot: from the one who thinks mistakes to be shameful to the one who thinks mistakes to be natural. And right now, I am trying hard to make something that I don’t know into something that I know well.

A fall is not everlasting

           “Okay. You should count one, two, three and jump into the sky. If you linger, it would be harder for you to jump in.”

           After counting one, two, three, I dived into the sky. No, I didn’t commit a suicide. I had a simple rope clung to my body. Yes, I did a bungee jump!

           It was a last June. My friend and I went to Inje Bungee Jump center. Without any fear, my friend and I simply went up to the bungee jump tower. It wasn’t until later that I became afraid about the fact that I had to dive into the sky. The only thing I had was a rope clung to my body.

           When I stepped forward and saw the scenery under my feet, I became numb. I couldn’t move. But when I counted one, two, three according to the direction of the assistant, I automatically dived into the sky.

I was literally falling. The scenery-the river, the mountain, the road, etc-was approaching to me. I thought I would die, seriously. However, at a certain moment, I felt something that “saved” me from falling, the rope. I was relieved. Although I had to experience further bouncing, I rather enjoyed it, as I knew the rope would save me from constant falling. After landing on the ground, I found myself appreciating the thrill of bungee jump.

Even after doing the bungee jump, I didn’t realize that this simple challenge I did can teach me an important life lesson. After the bungee jump, I had to face a lot of zigzags in KMLA life. Sometimes I had to face a shameful score on the test sheet, a trouble with a close friend, and a tight schedule. In those situations, I was discouraged, thinking that this would never end. However, after two months, when I had a trouble with a close friend, I remembered the bungee jump experience. While thinking about it, I soon realized something evident: the “fall” is not everlasting. Everybody experiences the fall. The fall is dismal, painful, and horrible. But there’s always a rope that stops one’s constant fall. One rises as much as one falls!

After understanding the lesson from bungee jump, I have tried to think “This, too, shall pass away soon” when facing troubles. With that bit of hope, I have been able to keep my chin up; bearing most of the problems smoothly. And sure, there have been many “rises” that I experienced after “falls”: miraculous A on the subject, joyful travel with my family, etc.

          After all, bungee jump was not just a test for courage. Although it seemed like just an interesting experience at that time, after time passed, bungee jump-that simple play with a rope-thought me a valuable lesson-a “fall” would stop at some moment. And keeping that lesson in my mind, I am trying to enjoy the “bungee jumping” in my life, dreaming for the moment of appreciation for my challenge.