It started eight years ago. An innocent girl of 8 was brought to a place where she was told to take a test. Cluelessly, she wrote her name down and began. 29 minutes later, she had been told she had taken almost double the amount of time she was supposed to complete the test. Thus, began her long, and tiresome journey. From then on, every Saturday from 2:30 to 6:00 P.M., she had to go to Kumon, a tutoring service, carrying homework that she had been assigned. Observing her surroundings, she began to detest the cold, dreary place that had the repetitive routine of a cruel prison. The air conditioner was always on, even during the winter, so the girl was forced to wear heavy jackets. An old man greeted her coldly, handing her more packets of work and the correctors seemed in an almost zombie-like trance, making red marks on papers. Three and a half hours could seem endurable, but the girl had hundreds of mistakes to correct. The system was to turn in your homework and keep correcting the mistakes until they were correct. The girl had over 200 Math problems to correct on average every time she went, staying well beyond 7. She shed many tears. The sniffling girl sobbed over the phone to her mother several times, explaining just how much work she was to complete before she could go home. Her parents accepted this, brushing it off as normal, ignoring the girl's futile attempts to "forget" to go to Kumon. After a year of opposition, they finally let her quit. Yet fate still drew her to the place. The cold room with metal chairs and grey walls that seemed to glare down at her as she sat in her seat, feeling small. At the age of 10, her grades had started to slip and her parents decided that they had to reenroll her. Oblivious to her horror, they had her start on two subjects, Math and Reading. Surprisingly, her love of reading got her to a higher level of work and it seemed more enjoyable as she met friends too. She improved her math skills, still loathing every Saturday, hoping that a Friday could last forever. She had seen the lying faces of TV commercials, advertising the dark prison she was shackled to as a happy place full of sunshine and smiling children. The case was the exact opposite – she saw children as young as three forced to sit quietly and strain their minds to please their ever-expecting parents as they wailed their hearts out. 7th grade came and the girl had aged to age twelve. She started her math and realized that everything she was supposedly learning was nothing more than what she had seen as cruel child labor every Saturday. She sped through Math and Reading, excelling more than she expected. Realizing that the place that had caused her the most pain was the place that had helped her the most. Now, the girl has aged fifteen and still goes to Kumon every Saturday. The same grey walls do not daunt her any longer, she now has friends and confidence in her abilities as she wraps her jacket around her, adapting to the chilly air, leaning back in her metal chair that supports her back. She smiles to herself as she looks around, seeing the same old man organizing papers with a smile on his face and the correctors chit-chatting happily amongst themselves. When she finishes, she waves goodbye to the cheerful secretary at the front desk saying, "See you next week!" with a smile upon her face.
