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and Byungjo had waved goodbye from the gate. At the bottom of our hill, we walked on the rutted main street beside the whitewashed wall that circled the wealthy neighborhood where Japanese officials and businessmen now lived with their families. The early fall morning filled my lungs with an invigorating crispness that called me to run or skip in my new rubber shoes, but Mother was instructing me on proper school behavior. I dutifully harnessed my footsteps to match hers. A new linen blouse chafed my elbows,and the heavy silk of my dark blue skirt swung deliciously against my shins, like the church bell ringing its Sunday welcome.
    “You mustn’t speak unless your teacher asks you something. Then lift your chin and speak clearly, but not loudly, and truthfully. If you don’t know the answer, you should say so. There’s no shame in not having the answer. Besides, with the lessons you’ve had at home, you’ll know more than most girls your age. Remember to give your teacher the utmost respect. Call her Sunsaeng-nim. ”
    “Yes, Umma-nim.” I repeated the instructions in my head in cheerful singsong.
    “Treat your classmates courteously, especially if they know less than you, and most especially if they are peasant children. Some students’ families won’t eat for days to pay the tuition. They may be poor and have strange habits or mean ways, but you are yangban and more is expected of you. Never forget that you’ll be treated as well as you treat others.”
    “How many students are there?” I trailed my hand along the iron bars that fenced the back lot of the Japanese police station, my fingers bouncing happily across the cold metal.
    “Najin-ah! Look how dirty you’re getting! Keep your hands closed.”
    I did so, smiling. Even her scolding couldn’t dampen my excitement.
    “The school is small, four grades, but they aren’t all full. Since you’re just of age, you might be among the youngest. Maybe you’ll find an older girl who can be an unnee , an elder sister to you. You’re a very lucky girl. I dreamed of going to school, but it wasn’t considered proper.”
    “But then how did your brothers teach you?”
    She gave me a look and recited under her breath, “What one says isn’t only heard by mice in the night, but by birds in the day.” In the silence that followed, I tried to walk modestly, ladylike, invisible. “I didn’t say anything last week about finding you hiding outside of Father’s room, and I don’t think I need to speak of it again.”
    I nodded apologetically and resolved to stop eavesdropping. I wouldn’t have time! Mother’s lips were set, but her eyes—wide apart and curved upward at the outer edges as if always smiling—were soft.
    “Najin-ah, be cautious with the things you overhear. The days are unpredictable— Well, you must promise to always ask me about anything you don’t understand. It’s wrong to be secretive, and there’s no need toworry about things that confuse you or seem strange. Asking questions is sometimes the best way to learn. And be careful with what you say to others, as these are difficult times. Will you remember this?”
    I promised, and tried to think humble so I would appear humble. After a contrite while, I cautiously asked, “Umma-nim, can you please tell me how you were educated?”
    I sensed her smiling. “In those days, a girl of our class never set foot outside her family’s gate until her wedding day, and then she’d go by palanquin to her husband’s family’s house.”
    “That’s awful!”
    “Daughter, you must learn to control your emotions. Such expressiveness isn’t becoming for a young lady.” My mother sighed. “Decorum, quietude, acceptance. Keep these things in your mind always.”
    “Yes, Umma-nim.” Unfairness rumbled in my belly—I couldn’t help it!—but I squelched it by silently chanting the triple mantra of her admonition.
    “And it wasn’t awful at all. My mother taught me all there was to know to