Changing Fast

Jean Burtch, who will turn 14 on New Year’s Day, was born in Seoul, Korea. Her mother met her father, an American soldier, when he walked into the souvenir shop where she worked. He was in his late 40s, she in her early 20s. They married in 1977 and Jean was born a year later. Her father died when she was 9, and she and her mother, Hyon Suk Burtch, both of whom are now American citizens, settled in Los Angeles. Home is a one-bedroom apartment in Koreatown. Jean’s mother works in a neighborhood jewelry store.

In school, Jean is an average student.

Socially, she is torn between cultures. Her American ways are in conflict with her mother’s Korean values.

My dad died July 1, 1988. Liver cancer. He wanted to come to L.A. We were always thinking we should come here. Well, it didn’t work out. He was here four days, in the VA hospital, and he died.

I say I’m American, but the close friends I have are Korean. And when I’m really hungry, I grab Korean food. I’d like to go back to visit but, if I moved back, I don’t think I’d like it. It’s very dangerous now.

My mom doesn’t like me being in L.A. She says it’s a bad influence on me. We’re moving to San Pedro. Maybe someday we’ll move to Texas or Michigan. Most of my father’s family is in Michigan, and they want us to come.

My dad wanted everything the best for me. I’m sad. I loved him a lot. I wish he was here. Since he’s not around, at home we speak mostly Korean. My dad spoke only some basic words. I think sometimes my mom misses Korea. My dad was a noncommissioned officer. He was in the Army for 26 years, in World War II, Korea, Vietnam. He retired in 1972 and went to work teaching soldiers.

We lived in Seoul, in Euijongbu. The house we built had four rooms on the bottom, three on top. My grandma, my uncle and his wife lived downstairs. My mom and dad and I were upstairs. The neighborhood was very busy. There were a lot of Americans there. The old people would come outside and sit down and talk. We’d play marbles and Chinese jump rope.

I went to an American school, a private school. The kids were half and half, like me, or American, some Korean. I liked the school there better. The discipline was better. What I learned there in fourth grade, I came here and learned in sixth grade.

I think I was a really good girl then. Here, I skip homework sometimes. I’m very lazy now. I think I used to be smart. I’m intelligent. Junior high, that’s when my grades fell. I really don’t like my school. The school’s so boring. I sleep in class sometimes.

Most of my friends are 17 and older. Older kids, they have cars and everything. It’s more fun. We go eat. We go to a friend’s house and just kick back. Even though I hang around with older kids, I think I’m still a little kid inside somewhere.

My mom’s very strict. She worries about me getting kidnaped or raped or killed. She wants me to be home before she comes home at 7:30. She has to know where I am, has to have my friends’ phone numbers. Korean people don’t understand dating when you’re young.

When you’re a teen-ager, you want to think about guys, clothes. My mom thinks I should be 16 or 18 before I date. That’s a long time. She doesn’t understand. My father would understand, if he was here. If my mom said no, my father always said yes.

I liked Korea. I think I had a better life there. First, of course, my father was there. We always went out and had breakfast together. One of my favorite breakfast foods is creamed beef on toast. My father and I used to eat that all the time.

I like my friends here. And, if you want anything, if you have the money you can get it. Everything is very easy and very comfortable here. I get everything I need, probably because I’m the only kid.

Pollution, danger, all the crime, I hate those.

I worry that I’ll make bad friends and I’ll start drinking or smoking. Or I won’t go to a good college and that will ruin my life and, when I get older, I won’t have a proper job. I worry that Mom will die early.

I feel lonely. I want someone I can talk to. But I’ve nobody. I want to do better, but I really don’t care. I guess I don’t have self-esteem or something lately.

My dad had two kids from his first marriage, but I’ve never seen them. I’ve never talked to them. My mom’s father wasn’t really that happy about the marriage. I’ve never seen my grandfather on my mom’s side. American people, most of the time, I don’t think they’re very racist. But for Korean people, to marry an American is like a big deal.

I feel better for the future because I’ll be bilingual. I want to go into the business world, stockbroker, insurance, stuff like that, or maybe I’ll go in the Army or maybe I’ll go into show business, modeling or something.

I used to be religious, but I lost a lot of faith. I think I go to church just to waste time. I’m not really into it. I do believe in God.

If my dad was alive, where I lived would be different. My friends would be different.

Two or three times a year, I visit my dad’s grave (at the veterans’ cemetery in Riverside). On his birthday, the date of his death, Veterans Day, stuff like that. I take flowers. Mums. He used to like those. I talk to him, inside. “Hi, Dad. How are you doing? I’m doing fine.”