Student_Voice : Going back in history
Published: 20 Jan. 2026, 00:05
Chanyou Lee
The author is a student at Sanui-e elementary school.
My face was stunned as if I had seen a dinosaur — which I had. But it wasn’t just a regular dinosaur; it was as tiny as a toy — which it was. I found it in an unused room full of boxes, old bookshelves and a collapsed camping tent. Now, you may be wondering, why was I, an 11-year-old boy, surprised to see a toy dinosaur? Because I thought I had lost it long ago. When I was three, I used to take this carnivorous dinosaur and chase my cousin around the house until I caught him. Then my dinosaur would fight his herbivorous one.
I wondered if I should bring up the toy to my cousin and see how he’s doing. Or, I reconsidered, it was time for me to let go of the past. Why was I keeping all this old stuff from my childhood?
![A child plays with dinosaur toys. The photo is used for illustrative purposes. [GETTY IMAGES]](https://koreajoongangdaily.joins.com/data/photo/2026/01/20/10b642cf-b596-4fdd-878b-18226f4a72d3.jpg)
With that dilemma on my mind, I opened a closet, only to jump back as hundreds of thousands of hats flowed out. Well, perhaps not quite that many. I first noticed a straw farming hat with a red ribbon. Then I saw a blue baseball cap that had been too big for my head but now barely fit over it, followed by a gray bucket hat that I had often worn to school. It turns out that I was a professional at wearing hats; I wear one in 98 percent of my baby photos. I thought they made me look cool. To stand out and feel special. I remembered people used to tell me, “Cool hat, Chanyou!” and “I want one like that!”
Was it time for me to get rid of these hats? Or could they still serve some purpose in my life?
The next thing I found was a box of building blocks. The blocks were the size of a small fist so that kids wouldn't swallow them. I remembered building the Eiffel Tower with the blocks in kindergarten. We had been learning about France, a place where everyone ate baguettes and the streets were full of mimes and people wearing berets. When the tower was finished, we put a figurine of a mime named Bob on top. Because we were little kids who couldn't stay still, we then scampered around the Eiffel Tower, pretending to be gorillas. When somebody bumped into Bob, he fell off the tower and landed in a puddle. I felt so bad for his downfall that I gave him a goodbye salute.
As this memory came back to me, I wondered about the old blocks. If I threw them away, would the memory also disappear?
Once a month, I volunteer at Korean palaces in Seoul, where I help guide visitors on tours around Gyeongbokgung Palace or Deoksugung Palace and share our history with them. During the tour, we look at items from the past, such as furniture, writing tools and clothing. When I talk about them, I always focus on the people who used them. What the servants did. What the blacksmiths made. What happened in the courtyards of the king. A crown is nothing if we don’t know who wore it.
History is the past and present's everlasting conversation, and the part that really matters, I've realized, is the people. Artifacts allow us to remember who they were and what they did. Every saved item is a promise: “I won’t forget you.”
When I returned home, I decided to keep the toy dinosaur because it brings back memories of my cousin. I decided to keep the building blocks because they make me think of my kindergarten friends. As for the hats, it was time to get rid of them. They only brought back memories of myself, and I knew who I was.
Goodbye, hats. I packed them carefully in a box that would go to my younger relatives. In this way, history repeats itself.
The author is a student at Sanui-e elementary school.
My face was stunned as if I had seen a dinosaur — which I had. But it wasn’t just a regular dinosaur; it was as tiny as a toy — which it was. I found it in an unused room full of boxes, old bookshelves and a collapsed camping tent. Now, you may be wondering, why was I, an 11-year-old boy, surprised to see a toy dinosaur? Because I thought I had lost it long ago. When I was three, I used to take this carnivorous dinosaur and chase my cousin around the house until I caught him. Then my dinosaur would fight his herbivorous one.
I wondered if I should bring up the toy to my cousin and see how he’s doing. Or, I reconsidered, it was time for me to let go of the past. Why was I keeping all this old stuff from my childhood?
A child plays with dinosaur toys. The photo is used for illustrative purposes. [GETTY IMAGES]
With that dilemma on my mind, I opened a closet, only to jump back as hundreds of thousands of hats flowed out. Well, perhaps not quite that many. I first noticed a straw farming hat with a red ribbon. Then I saw a blue baseball cap that had been too big for my head but now barely fit over it, followed by a gray bucket hat that I had often worn to school. It turns out that I was a professional at wearing hats; I wear one in 98 percent of my baby photos. I thought they made me look cool. To stand out and feel special. I remembered people used to tell me, “Cool hat, Chanyou!” and “I want one like that!”
Was it time for me to get rid of these hats? Or could they still serve some purpose in my life?
The next thing I found was a box of building blocks. The blocks were the size of a small fist so that kids wouldn't swallow them. I remembered building the Eiffel Tower with the blocks in kindergarten. We had been learning about France, a place where everyone ate baguettes and the streets were full of mimes and people wearing berets. When the tower was finished, we put a figurine of a mime named Bob on top. Because we were little kids who couldn't stay still, we then scampered around the Eiffel Tower, pretending to be gorillas. When somebody bumped into Bob, he fell off the tower and landed in a puddle. I felt so bad for his downfall that I gave him a goodbye salute.
As this memory came back to me, I wondered about the old blocks. If I threw them away, would the memory also disappear?
Once a month, I volunteer at Korean palaces in Seoul, where I help guide visitors on tours around Gyeongbokgung Palace or Deoksugung Palace and share our history with them. During the tour, we look at items from the past, such as furniture, writing tools and clothing. When I talk about them, I always focus on the people who used them. What the servants did. What the blacksmiths made. What happened in the courtyards of the king. A crown is nothing if we don’t know who wore it.
History is the past and present's everlasting conversation, and the part that really matters, I've realized, is the people. Artifacts allow us to remember who they were and what they did. Every saved item is a promise: “I won’t forget you.”
When I returned home, I decided to keep the toy dinosaur because it brings back memories of my cousin. I decided to keep the building blocks because they make me think of my kindergarten friends. As for the hats, it was time to get rid of them. They only brought back memories of myself, and I knew who I was.
Goodbye, hats. I packed them carefully in a box that would go to my younger relatives. In this way, history repeats itself.
with the Korea JoongAng Daily
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