Student_Voice : The spark in the children’s section

Lee Chloe Hyowon

The author is a student at Lighthouse International School in Gyeonggi.

A lot of high schoolers like me feel tired and pressured during this stage of life. I understand those feelings well. But working with kids at a library in Songdo changed how I feel. Instead of feeling drained at the end of a long day, I feel refreshed. Kids bring a spark of happiness and energy that I didn’t expect.

One of the students I work with at the library is named Jane. She’s about eight and a little shy, always sitting alone with her book and worksheet. But one day, she slowly walked up to me and lightly nudged my arm. “Chloe… how do you pronounce this word?” She pointed at the word and tried to break it down as I said it slowly for her: “Ex-tra-or-di-na-ry.” Another time, she said “A-pear-ance,” putting a “pear” sound in the middle. There was something innocent and a little awkward in the way she said the words, but also very focused, like she really wanted to get them right. It made me feel a sense of responsibility: I needed to guide her without making her feel embarrassed. In that innocence and responsibility, there is energy and strength. I felt that “spark.”

Another time, a seven-year-old named Jin came into the library carrying a worn-out penguin doll. It had stains and it looked quite old, but he held onto the doll like it was part of him. Watching him reminded me of when I was younger. I also had something like that: a Minnie Mouse doll that I could talk to when I couldn’t express my feelings to real people. Seeing Jin brought back a sense of nostalgia, reminding me of how I relied on that doll to regulate my emotions and feel secure when I was overwhelmed by school. The nostalgia arrived in a wave of warm, calming energy.  

Teenagers in my generation usually think little kids are loud, tiring, and hard to deal with. Of course, kids can be a handful. One time, I saw a kid struggling to drink from a water bottle. When I tried to fix it for him, I realized the cap was still on and he had been pushing it into his mouth. When I realized that the slippery substance on my fingers was his saliva, I had to hold back a scream. Later, as I was washing my hands, I started to see the humor in this. Even screams can bring us energy.  

After working at the library for four months, I realized that the kids always give more energy than they take. There’s a girl named Ariel who runs up and hugs me the moment I walk in. I often wonder what’s going through her mind in that moment. Maybe she just wants comfort? A feeling of friendship? Maybe she doesn’t even think at all, she just feels.  

One day, a girl named Bella handed me a drawing she’d made. It was a simple picture, but it shocked me. It was a picture of me. It made me stop and think: What did I do to make her draw me? Did she see me as a role model? Maybe she had always wanted an older sister — someone she could look up to and feel close to. That small drawing made me feel special, like I was bigger and more important than I’d thought I was.

Because of moments like these, I don’t think of going to the library as “going to work.” It feels more like a place where I can recharge. A place where I can step away from the stress from high school and feel something different — the energy that comes from innocence, nostalgia, and sounding out “ex-tra-or-di-na-ry” with someone who really wants to get it right.