조용히, 다시 작아지는 아이

Quietly, Becoming Smaller Again

3장 – 조용히, 다시 작아지는 아이

2학년 담임 선생님은 소망의 속도를 기다려주는 분이었다. 발표 시간이 되면 “생각 다 하면 말해도 돼”라고 말해주었고, 소망은 그 말 덕분에 입을 열 수 있었다. 그녀의 말은 항상 조용했고, 문장은 짧았지만 그 안에 담긴 생각은 분명했다.

그때 소망은 매일 학교 가는 길에 꽃을 하나씩 세어보곤 했다. 교문 옆 화단에서 피어난 팬지와 민들레를 눈에 담고, 그 수를 셀 때면 마음이 조금 놓였다. 속도와는 상관없는 세계가 있다는 걸 그 시간에만은 느낄 수 있었다.

하지만 3학년이 되자, 담임 선생님이 바뀌었다. 그 선생님은 빠르고 정확한 아이들을 좋아했다. 질문은 빠르게 던져졌고, 대답도 그 속도에 맞춰야 했다. 소망은 생각이 정리되기 전에 질문이 지나가 버리는 순간이 많아졌고, 점점 손을 들지 않게 되었다.

어느 날, 수업 시간. 선생님이 칠판에 문제를 쓰며 물었다.

“이 문제 풀 사람?”

아이들 손이 숲처럼 올라갔다. 소망은 문제를 읽고 있었지만 아직 손이 가지 않았다. 그 순간 선생님의 말이 들렸다.

“소망이는 요즘 왜 자꾸 말이 없을까? 2학년 때는 그래도 발표를 했었는데 말이야.”

아이들의 시선이 소망에게 쏠렸다. 소망은 아무 말도 하지 못하고 고개를 숙였다.

그날 이후, 소망은 점점 더 조용해졌다. 점심시간에도 혼자 있는 시간이 많아졌고, 놀이에 참여하는 대신 벤치에 앉아 책을 읽거나 공책에 무언가를 끄적였다. 친구들은 처음엔 몇 번 부르다 말았고, 이내 익숙하게 혼자 있는 소망을 지나쳤다.

집에서도 변화는 느껴졌다. 식탁 위에 놓인 시험지는 점점 말이 줄어들게 했다.

“요즘엔 왜 네가 먼저 말하려고 안 하니?” “캠프에서 영어 잘했잖아.”

엄마는 걱정된다는 듯 말했지만, 그 말엔 조용한 기대가 섞여 있었다. 소망은 그 기대가 무거웠다. 아무 말 없이 고개를 끄덕였지만, 마음속에는 말풍선이 떠올랐다.

‘내가 뭘 놓치고 있는 걸까?’

학교도, 집도. 모두 조금씩 소망을 조용한 벽 안으로 밀어넣고 있었다.

---

Chapter 3 – Quietly, Becoming Smaller Again

Somang's second grade homeroom teacher was someone who waited patiently for her pace.

When it was time to speak in class, the teacher would gently say, "You can speak when your thoughts are ready."

Thanks to that simple phrase, Somang found the courage to open her mouth.

Her voice was as soft as a whisper, and her sentences were short but full of heart. Her thoughts were always clear and honest, and it was easy to see how much she cared.

That year, Somang started counting flowers on her way to school.

The garden by the gate was filled with the beautiful blooms of pansies and dandelions, their vibrant colors and sweet scents welcoming us home.

Every morning, she took in their colors and quietly counted them.

For a little while, it felt like she was in a world where speed wasn't such a big deal.

In that world, she could finally breathe again.

But then, in third grade, the homeroom teacher changed.

The new teacher really liked students who were quick and precise.

The room was filled with a flurry of questions and rapid-fire answers.

Somang was such a thoughtful person, but even when she had a chance to share her thoughts, the topic had already changed.

She gradually stopped raising her hand.

One day, during class, the teacher wrote a problem on the board and asked, "Who'd like to solve this with me?"

Hands shot up like a forest.

Somang was still giving it her best when she heard the teacher say, "Why doesn't Somang talk anymore?" She used to speak up in second grade."

Everyone in the classroom looked at her.

Somang was at a loss for words. She just lowered her head, not saying a word.

After that, she became even quieter, as if she was thinking hard about something.

During lunch, she would often sit alone, but she didn't seem to mind.

Instead of playing, she sat on a bench, reading a book or scribbling in her notebook.

At first, some kids called her a few times.

But soon, even that stopped.

They walked past her, and she felt like they didn't even notice that she was there, just another face in the crowd.

At home, the change was also felt.

The test papers on the dinner table grew heavier with silence.

"Why don't you ever speak up first anymore?"

"You really shone in English at camp."

Her mother sounded concerned, but there was also a subtle hint of anticipation in her voice.

That expectation felt a bit overwhelming.

Somang just gave a little nod.

But inside, a little voice in her head was saying:

What am I missing?

At school and at home, she felt like everything was conspiring to push her into a quiet, invisible corner.