Former Seoul City Council Secretary-General Kwon Hyuk-so, Winner of the Shin In Literary Award, Debuts as an Essayist

Kwon Hyuk-so, Chairman of Seongbuk-gu Urban Management Corporation, Wins New Writer Literary Award Essay Category (Title: "Ugly Husband, Wise Wife") Hosted by Yeongnam Literature

[Asia Economy Reporter Jong-il Park] Kwon Hyuk-so, Chairman of Seongbuk-gu Urban Management Corporation (former Chief Secretary of Seoul City Council), has been selected as the winner in the essay category of the New Writer Literary Award hosted by the comprehensive literary magazine Yeongnam Literature, marking his debut in the literary world (Title: The Foolish Husband, The Wise Wife).

The work, which deals with the joys and sorrows of child education and marital love experienced during life as an international student, received high praise from the judges as “a simple yet heartfelt account of real experiences that resonates emotionally.”

Chairman Kwon said, “I am happy but also somewhat apprehensive that the piece I wrote while reflecting on and organizing my past life after retirement was selected for the New Writer Literary Award.” He added, “Although I started writing late, since I have begun, I want to communicate sincerely with many people through good writing.”

He also added, “I want to cherish this new connection with essay writing, which was not on my bucket list when I retired.”

Chairman Kwon worked for Seoul City for 30 years, holding key positions such as Chief Secretary of the Seoul City Council (Grade 1) and Director of the Culture Bureau. He retired honorably in 2014 and has been serving as Chairman of Seongbuk-gu Urban Management Corporation since 2015.

When he retired from Seoul City in July 2014, he left a farewell speech titled “Aye Byul Ri Go,” which was like a poem and was widely talked about among Seoul City employees for some time (reported by Asia Economy on July 28, 2014).

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The Foolish Husband, The Wise Wife

“Ring ring~ ring ring.” The corded phone in the living room rang loudly. It was the homeroom teacher of my son. What I barely understood was, “Your son said and did things at school that are absolutely unforgivable, so there will be a meeting with the principal. One of the parents should come to the school.”

I had been selected for an overseas training program at my affiliated institution and had come to the United States for two years of study abroad. It had been about eight months since my family came with me to the U.S. My son was enrolled in the third grade at a nearby elementary school mainly attended by children of international students. About 30% of the students were local American children, and the remaining 70% were children of international students from over 50 countries.

Before coming to the U.S., my son had never been exposed to English in Korea. Therefore, he inevitably experienced tremendous stress adapting to school classes and local life, often crying and saying he wanted to return to Korea during the early months. However, after about six months, conflicts and fights with local white students became frequent. Until then, he had been intimidated because he couldn’t speak English well, but once he gained some English skills, he felt it was unfair to be intimidated or made to run errands by kids no better than himself.

As the meeting with the principal approached, my wife and I lightly quarreled, each insisting the other should go to the school, but eventually agreed to go together. The biggest fear and discomfort during life in the U.S. was not understanding what others said. My reluctance to attend the meeting with the principal was due to fear of communication and uncertainty about what to say regarding our son’s wrongdoing. I had no particular words to say and planned to just say “I am sorry” and listen to the principal’s reprimand. On the day of the meeting, my wife and I went to the school without any prior discussion and entered the principal’s office following the homeroom teacher’s guidance.

The American principal, after a brief explanation from the homeroom teacher, spoke sternly without any greeting or procedure, repeatedly emphasizing the seriousness of our son’s words and actions, saying they were absolutely unforgivable. Although the principal’s tone and attitude, which seemed to disregard us, annoyed and irritated me, given the situation, I was at a loss and only watched my wife’s reaction. It didn’t seem like it would end with just “I am sorry,” but no other words came to mind. The principal said our son had recently raised his middle finger at friends and used profanity including “fuck” and “shit” multiple times. The school strictly forbids such language and treats it severely, warning that repeated offenses could lead to expulsion. The principal kept repeating the same points. Then my wife, unable to tolerate it any longer, quietly but firmly asked, “Have you finished speaking?” When the principal nodded silently, she began to speak slowly and clearly in her imperfect English.

“First, Principal, you should apologize to us.” The principal looked at my wife in disbelief. She continued, “Our son did not speak a word of English when he came to the U.S.” “The English he uses here is only what he has learned here.” “Principal, did you teach our son such English?” “I don’t think so. I believe he learned it from American kids here. We don’t even know those words our son used.”

I could see the principal and homeroom teacher’s expressions change slightly, clearly showing embarrassment. My wife’s calm tone continued. “At the elementary school age, children tend to imitate new words or gestures unconditionally. Also, in Korea, the middle finger is not a curse. It is commonly used to point at objects or explain letters. Our son learned that raising the middle finger is an insult here. I will make sure our child does not use such curses or gestures in the future, and I ask that you and the homeroom teacher also educate the children carefully.”

The principal’s tone suddenly softened and became gentle. The stern expression and dismissive attitude from the beginning of the meeting disappeared. The principal glanced at the homeroom teacher awkwardly and spoke slowly and softly. Until then, he had spoken quickly in a somewhat agitated tone, making it hard to understand, but now his pronunciation was clear and easy to follow. “Our school has children of international students from 55 countries, so we pay special attention to students’ language and behavior. As you said, we will also make special efforts. Please make sure your son does not use such language or behavior again.”

“Understood. I will also try,” my wife said, ending the situation. It was a satisfying day but also an embarrassing one. I hated myself for being so intimidated by the principal’s scolding that I couldn’t say a word and only watched my wife’s lead with a somewhat servile attitude. On the other hand, I admired my wife. Usually quiet and lacking confidence in English, I was envious and even awed by how she could think and speak so calmly and confidently without being intimidated.

On the way home, I lagged a few steps behind with my head down, unable to walk alongside my wife. She turned back and comforted me, who looked downcast. “I felt confident because you were beside me, so I said everything I wanted. Let’s go out to a nice restaurant for a meal, something we haven’t done in a while.”

Thinking she was a wise wife unlike her foolish husband, I felt shy because it was an unusual gesture, but I quietly approached and gently held her hand.

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.