[Finding the Shape of My Place] #1. My First Employment Contract
Why do you go to college?
While I was caught up in such complicated thoughts, I suddenly wondered what others thought. Was I the only one struggling like this? I started asking my friends. "Why do you go to college?" "Why do you go to school?" Not a single person gave me a satisfying answer. Many had no real reason, while others gave explanations that were hard to accept. "You need a college degree to get a good job." That answer was too pragmatic—too real—to accept. I wanted to create my own answer. I had to. If there was no reason for what I was doing, no goal, then I felt there was no need to continue.
Looking back now, it seems grand and serious, but I think I was just a bit worn out. So, like many college students choose to do, I planned to take a year off after finishing my sophomore year. At first, I didn't think much about it. I made that cliché resolution: I'd find the reason why I was going to school outside of school, try everything I'd wanted to do during that time, and get to know myself! Then, I got an offer to work as an activist in a village community. I accepted without much deep thought. Working freely with people I liked in a space I loved, and getting paid for it! I thought there couldn't be a better opportunity.
My First Employment Contract
That's how, quite by chance, I signed my first employment contract at twenty-two. The contract period was from March to December. My employer was Seoul Mayor Park Won-soon. I signed a contract and received a monthly salary, but the work of a youth community space activist wasn't clearly defined. I didn't know how to work, and no one taught me how. Still, working as a community activist was enjoyable. I met people with diverse backgrounds I wouldn't have encountered within the confines of school and got to indirectly glimpse various ways of life. I experienced various sharing practices unfamiliar at the time, like communal housing and shared kitchens. I also formed voluntary study groups with youth friends who were seeking their own paths instead of following the standard education curriculum. Working alongside many people striving to turn their dreams into their 'work' and achieve self-reliance made my heart race too.
The Fear of Quitting Midway
What seemed like an exclusively joyful and fulfilling life as an activist didn't end particularly beautifully. There were conflicts among internal members, and my own lack of capacity, unable to shake off the burden of having to accomplish undefined tasks, was also a factor. Just two months before my contract ended, I submitted my resignation papers. It was the first time in my life I'd 'given up midway.' I'd never before voluntarily quit anything. There had only been 'ends' that came naturally—programs concluding, school graduating, deadlines expiring—never an 'end' I'd consciously declared and brought to a close myself. The fear of having to quit something midway was significant, but what terrified me even more was the disappointment in what I had considered my most ideal 'work'. The thought of what dreams I could find or what goals I could set going forward was agonizing. For quite some time afterward, I hesitated to set goals and couldn't dream romantically like I used to.
Rediscovering Myself After Losing My Light
For months after giving up midway, I pushed thoughts of dreaming or my 'work' far into the back of my mind. Instead, I worked a part-time job that required endless dishwashing to earn living expenses and attended a seminar studying philosophy with friends from another school. I found solace in philosophy's grand concepts and began to rediscover meaning in my life through the relationships formed with fellow students. Just as I was starting to forget about 'work' altogether, while preparing for a seminar on political philosophy and writing notes, I recalled the 'work' I truly wanted to do: 'throwing a topic into the world'. I thought about why I had created Shipri at twenty, why I had worked as a village community activist. Throwing a topic into the world, making people think differently. Making them consider things they hadn't questioned before and prompting them to act. That was also politics. After having that thought, I began to wonder what kind of 'job' could fulfill this dream of mine about 'work'. The answer I came up with at the time was 'journalist'. Among those, I thought that if I became a 'data journalist' based on IT, I could become someone who could convey the topics I wanted to raise more clearly. So this time, I went to the 'Next Journalism School'.
A Journalism School That Makes You Not Want to Be a Reporter
I learned a lot through the Next Journalism School. First, becoming a reporter in South Korea would be difficult for me. Second, becoming a reporter and becoming a journalist are different things. Third, delivering a message is journalism itself. Only after attending Next Journalism School could I finally separate my dream, work, and profession. I had a dream of posing questions to the world and wanted to do the work of a journalist, but I didn't want the job of a reporter. Still, I couldn't give a clear answer to the question, "So what do you actually want to do?" Still, I wasn't frustrated. I drifted, not truly belonging anywhere, but I lived each given day diligently to find the place I truly wanted to be and the team members I truly wanted to meet. As a friend once said, someday I would meet colleagues who, just seeing them, would make me want to give them a big hug. The wandering continued after that.