Growing Pains

Ever since I was homeschooled, my father wanted me to try out public school for high school. Well, the year has finally come, and I’m going to public school for the very first time. Ever. I can’t say I’m not terrified. I’m weird, like, super weird. I’m the girl that listens to those “Pretty Chinese boys” and spends money on their merch only to not wear it because of bullies.

But I was forced to be the black sheep at the school regardless of my pained cries. 

School was difficult. I had the pressure of my parents wanting me to get good grades and thrive there, but it wasn’t the school itself that was vigorous. It was the social aspect. Due to COVID-19, my social battery got depleted and I never got any good social interactions, making me like Komi, from “Komi Can’t Communicate.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want to make friends, I just didn’t know how.

People were weird. And not in a good way. I love nerds, the people who will geek out with you online about a recently released k-pop song, or a new anime episode. Not the people that wear Lululemon and all have the same hairstyles. 

Part of me then wanted to convert into them, and it was hard. I stood my ground slightly. I wore my science pajama pants to school and hoodies that covered up the k-pop shirts I wore. I had keychains of the groups that I stanned attached to my backpack that would sway when I walked, catching the attention of a few people.

Even with the slight k-pop merch, people never knew what it was. This one junior in one of my classes had asked me what type of music I listened to. I just said, “I don’t really have a preference, just what I’m feeling at the moment.” And I thought that’d be it, but it wasn’t. She continued to say that not having a preference was a lie and that I had to listen to something all the time.

When I said k-pop she looked at me weirdly and said "That's weird, I’m done talking to you.” Which I cared about, but not really, since I didn’t really know her. Ironically she had a psychology class next to mine for the second period.

Making friends was the worst. Everyone talked about the same things. Boys, and themselves. Specifically about who they liked. I ended up friending this girl in my English class, and she was probably the kindest out of all of the girls I ended up hanging onto for social survival. She had actually liked talking about other things, but would mostly get dragged into the conversations with the others.

Homework was… interesting. It wasn’t that difficult, as I had previously said, school itself wasn’t the hard part, it was the socializing. Public school sent me home with hours of homework, which made my schedule weird.

Once I got home after school I’d take a nap, and recharge. After that I’d wake up, eat a bit, maybe take a shower, and then get started on the schoolwork. At times I’d maybe take a break, talk to some k-pop loving friends, and then get back to work. 

It all got done and I had pretty good grades, as the pressure of my parents forced me to keep up with everything. But it was the timing that I was struggling with. I’d stay up till 1am every night just to get the work done and I had to keep myself awake. Sometimes I’d listen to different music, but that never helped.

The thing that did help though, was k-pop. I thought of how rigorous it must be to be an idol and trainee. The physical and mental strength idols must have, the blood, sweat, and tears they must give to make sure that their fans and company are satisfied with their performances and content.

Their music, even if the lyrics were full of strong, heavy emotions, was always upbeat. It just made me want to have a full out karaoke dance party in my dining room and skip school the next day. As a k-pop stan, I have to know the dances to my favorite songs, so when “View” by SHINee came on, I’d mentally do the dance and continue writing about the Navajo community for an English assignment or making a study guide about neurons for psychology.

The deal I had made with my father when this journey came up was, if I could stay in public school for 9 weeks, then I could either go back to homeschooling, or keep trucking along. I had made up my mind the first time I set foot on campus: I was going to be homeschooled after the traumatic 9 weeks. So when week 8 came around, I had to tell my “Friends” or rather, “Life Lines.” They were sad, but understood. One girl I befriended who had liked k-dramas was the most sad to see me leave. She even made me a letter with chocolates and gave it to me in psychology. 

The final week came around, and when my mom went to pull me from my school, I cried happy tears. I knew it was going to take some time for me to go back to my usual though. I had turned into a shell of myself. I was horrid. Just a gray character with no emotions or thoughts. One that was just forced to conform to a strict schedule and never argue. 

First two months could’ve been in a horror movie. I never left my room, never ate, and never slept. It was clear that I was depressed. The PTSD from the 9 weeks needed to be healed. Every week I was there and needed 2 times as much time to heal. Not that I’m healed now…

It’s been about half a year since then. I’m just starting to become my usual self. I’ve been listening to more k-pop, relearning the dances I’ve since forgotten and becoming happier. I’ve always asked myself this question though.

If I knew what would happen, would I do it again?

If I was forced to go through that again, what would happen to me?

My emotions were on thin, somewhat fixed glass over a deep dark trench to somewhere unpleasant. If I had to go through that again, and I fell through, what would’ve happened?

Most of the time I choose not to think about those things. I choose to think about the things that make me happy, like playing video games and learning new k-pop songs and dances. Unless it’s that one song called “Cupid” by Fifty-Fifty, which is way too catchy and always gets stuck in my head, which makes it irritating. 

I keep thinking back to what I was like then. If I hadn't gone through all of that, would I have been a different person? The obvious answer is yes, but would I have stayed the same unsuspecting middle schooler that I was? 

Was it all worth it in the end, or not?