Teen defector determined to succeed

But the 19-year-old North Korean defector has much more on her plate than most of her peers. On top of high school, hagwon and studying for her university entrance exam, Jo works hard to fit in, succeed in school and learn the ins and outs of staying ahead in the South.

“For about two years, it was very hard for me. I was very confused. The words ‘North Korea’ never left my mind; they were always there. And I didn’t have any friends -- not one,” Jo said in an interview.

Challenges are enormous for a defector her age: She worries about making friends, like all teens, but the biggest question for her is when to tell people she is from North Korea. It’s not exactly the most effective ice breaker. Most defectors Jo’s age tend to be years behind their South Korean counterparts scholastically. In English education -- no explanation needed for its importance in the South -- she could recite the ABCs on arrival, but could muster up little more.

According to the Education Support Center for North Korean Migrants, adapting to South Korea’s notoriously competitive schools is the most difficult aspect of integration.

The age gap adds to the challenge. North Korean defectors on average have a two-year age gap with their classmates.

South Korea has been busy trying to create a system to facilitate a smooth transition into society, especially for these school-age defectors. When North Koreans reach the South, they go to a facility in Anseung, Gyeonggi Province named Hanawon for reeducation and a two month adaptation period. Orphans are then assigned to boarding schools. Young students with parents are released to live with their families. The Korean Educational Development Institute develops texts, support materials, and provides mentoring and career counseling.

But the center only focuses on the fundamentals of living in a capitalistic society. Take everything you’ve learned about the world and cram it into a two-month crash course; for the rest, they’re on their own. Shin Hyo-sook from the Education Support Center identifies two more challenges: social adaptation and laying out their own career path.

“They have difficulties deciding their own careers themselves because that is different from the North, where the country decides life paths for people. (In South Korea) government-supported education for (defectors’) career training is necessary,” said Shin.

Jo, however, knows exactly what she wants to do.

“I want to work in hospitals -- hospitals that would be built in North Korea after reunification. My mom was always sick when I was growing up. I felt really nice about myself whenever I nursed her to better health.

“It is a nice feeling to know that someone is feeling better because of my hand. So I always thought that I would do something to help sick people. I want to study hard and become a nurse and work at hospitals in North Korea someday,” she said.

Making time for friends

When Jo was growing up in North Korea, there was little time for school. She was not required to study because the family had to farm to survive. She had not hosted any fantasies about post-secondary education then. Only the top students in her school had a chance to go to university - students who were well off and whose family held a high social status in the community.

From the minute Jo set foot in her first South Korean school, she was determined to succeed.

She had to be. She was years behind. How do you catch up to students that started the race years before you -- and are accustomed to running day and night? You study hard. “So I spent those times reading books, paying attention in class lectures. I spent those times studying.”

She had help, of course. When she started studying, teachers around her didn’t hesitate to offer assistance. They told her to go to a hagwon, they mentored her, and gave extra English grammar lessons. “If I had trouble with something, they were always here to help.”

Jo’s first day of school in South Korea was in mid-March -- two weeks after the semester began. By then, the other middle school students had already formed friendships. Doors were closed to newcomers. Most certainly to an outsider like Jo.

“I was the only one left alone. I felt alone. About two years passed. Those were hard times. People in front of me wouldn’t talk to me if I spoke, nor would they initiate a conversation, nor could I go up and talk to them. I had to just spend those times studying,” she said.

In her second year of middle school, Jo decided she couldn’t go through life without friends. She told her new homeroom teacher she wanted to meet people. So her teachers helped her make friends. “And I had so much fun with them. I was worried still, but since students join from other schools, students were also new to each other and we got closer,” she said. “My life changed after I was able to connect with people.”

It’s not easy making friends with people that grew up in a different world. Little of how she lived and what she was taught in her childhood was applicable to her new life in the South. She even had to get used to having electricity 24-hours a day. In North Korea, her electricity would be on for four hours a day at most. “At 10 o’clock at night and after the North Korean national anthem is sung, all the lights go off. But here, the light is on 24 hours a day.”

Studying is a national obsession for South Korean teenagers. And when they’re not buried in books, they’re in a hagwon or playing computer games. Jo had found it difficult to connect with her peers because it was hard for her to comprehend these social trends.

“I was surprised at the number of people playing computer games. They play computer games a lot. Also, since we (North Koreans) don‘t have televisions, we used to spend time with our friends - in a physical sense - all the time. However, here (in South Korea) friends don’t get together often, and rarely play together.”

Meet her mentor, Hwang Eun-joo

Jo’s mentor, Hwang Eun-joo, accompanied her to the interview. Though she helps five teenagers from her local Rainbow Youth Center, Jo is Hwang’s main student.

“I strongly believe that it is my calling to help North Koreans. I feel it is an obligation for all people to help those whose rights aren’t respected as human beings,” said Hwang.

“I feel compassion for the people in North Korea. I hope to go to there someday when we are reunified to rebuild churches and restore the lives of the broken people,” she added.

Statistics show that defectors need all the help they can get.

Suicide accounted for 16 percent of all deaths of North Korean defectors in 2009, according to Rep. Gu Sang-chan of the Grand National Party, a ratio that is almost three times higher than that of South Korean natives. And according to the Unification Ministry, defectors’ average monthly income sits at 1.26 million won ($1,090) -- exactly half of what South Korean natives earn.

NGOs and the government have instituted a number of initiatives in an effort to close the gap, one of which is the Ministry of Welfare, Health and Family Affairs’ Rainbow Youth Center program. It has operated inside district community centers across the country since 2006 with the purpose of helping North Korean and foreign teenagers integrate into South Korean society.

Jo said the help she gets at the Rainbow Youth Center is instrumental.

“I am surprised that I get as much help as I do. I don’t think I’ve ever had an occasion where I didn’t get the help that I had needed,” she said. “As I told you, the present is the happiest time of my life. I am very happy now.”

Her message for South Koreans

Jo said South Korean natives tend to slot North Korean defectors into certain categories. “They think they’re stupid, lazy, and even a burden,” she said.

“I want to ask those who hold negative opinions of us to please put yourselves in our shoes. And consider how hard it is for us to make friends and succeed in a wholly different educational and social environment.”