Korean reading — TOPIK II · Technology

These days I'm completely absorbed in drone photography, filming landscapes from the sky.

So I told my grandfather I was going to buy a drone with the money I had saved from a month of part-time work.

When he heard this, my grandfather asked, “Are you really going to buy that expensive toy?”

I explained to him that a drone isn't a toy but a technology used even in farming and rescue work.

Since my grandfather didn't believe me, I borrowed a friend's drone and flew it over his orchard to show him.

When the apples on each tree appeared clearly on the screen, my grandfather was very surprised.

Now my grandfather says that once I buy a drone, I should take pictures of the orchard first.

Last summer, a small plastic part that adjusts the height of my old electric fan broke.

When I asked the manufacturer, they said the model was too old and they no longer made the part.

I thought about just buying a new fan, but the rest of it worked fine, so it seemed a waste to throw it away.

Then a friend told me that the local library has a 3D printer that anyone can use.

I thought even the design would probably be hard on my own, so I first signed up for the library's beginner class.

Just measuring the broken part with a ruler and drawing its shape on the computer took two weeks.

The third part I printed fit perfectly, and the fan blew cool air once again.

Now, when something breaks at home, I first think about whether I can make the part myself before throwing it out.

I had been using the laptop my parents bought me when I entered university for seven years.

Over that time, the letters on the keyboard had all worn off, and the battery couldn't last even thirty minutes.

My friends laughed and asked why I was still using a laptop that was completely worn out.

But inside it were my college assignments and photos, and even a list of things I bought with my first paycheck.

In the end, last month the screen often wouldn't turn on, so I decided to buy a new laptop.

Only after moving all the old files with the help of a repair shop technician did I feel relieved.

I completely erased the stored data on the old laptop and then put it in an electronics collection bin.

Even though the device has changed, the memories stored in it will continue on the new laptop.

My friend Taeyun runs a blog where he tries out electronic devices and posts honest reviews.

Last week, when he posted a review of wireless earphones, someone left a long comment.

That person claimed the battery life was wrong and picked apart every single sentence of the post.

Taeyun was upset at first, but he decided not to respond emotionally.

Instead, he fully charged the earphones again, played music, and timed how long they lasted.

As a result, he found out that it was about an hour shorter than the time he had written.

Taeyun corrected the post and replied to the commenter, thanking them for pointing it out.

He says that was when he learned that even sharp criticism is worth checking.

Last Saturday I went to a neighborhood café, but there was only a self-ordering kiosk instead of a staff member taking orders.

An elderly man standing in front of me just kept staring at the screen for a long time.

Then he turned around and asked, “Excuse me, but where should I press for hot tea?”

I found the menu section where the teas were grouped and slowly explained how to pay as well.

He said the letters were too small and there were so many buttons that he didn't dare try it alone.

After hearing that, I realized that convenient technology can be a high wall for some people.

These days, kiosks that can enlarge the text or give voice guidance are gradually increasing.

But isn't what we need first the willingness to ask for help and to offer it to the person next to us?

A new colleague from Spain joined our department, but I didn't know any Spanish at all.

Another colleague suggested I try a translation app, but I was doubtful.

I thought, how could a machine possibly convey someone's tone and even their jokes properly?

But when we turned on the app and talked at lunchtime, the conversation flowed more naturally than I expected.

Of course, sometimes a strange translation came out and the two of us laughed for a long time.

Rather than relying on the app, that colleague tried to memorize Korean greetings one by one.

Seeing that, I've also been learning a few Spanish greetings little by little lately.

A translation app makes a good bridge, but I think opening up to each other is ultimately up to people.

My younger brother Junho, who started middle school, got his first smartphone this spring.

From that day on, as soon as Junho got home from school, he went to his room and stared only at his phone.

Even at dinner his answers got shorter, and there were more days when he put off his homework.

Instead of taking the phone away, my parents held a family meeting and suggested we set rules together.

Junho promised to finish his homework first and to leave his phone in the living room after ten at night.

In return, my parents and I also agreed not to look at our phones during meals.

Now, a month later, we've started hearing stories about school at the dinner table again.

I think having the whole family follow the rules together was more effective than making him follow them alone.

Last Chuseok, my family set off by car for my grandmother's house in the countryside.

When the highway was completely jammed, the navigation app suggested a new, narrow road over the mountain.

My mother said, “That road will surely be faster, but it'll be dangerous once it gets dark.”

But my father trusted the message saying we would arrive thirty minutes earlier and turned onto that road.

Before long, the road became so narrow that only one car could barely get through, and there wasn't a single streetlight.

On top of that, a truck came from the opposite direction, so my father had to back up for a long way.

In the end, we arrived at my grandmother's house a whole hour later than the time the app had told us.

Since then, my father doesn't just follow the route the app suggests but thinks it over once more before choosing.

As a high school student, I wanted to start a video channel that shows science experiments in an easy way.

When I told my parents, my mother worried it might get in the way of my studies.

But my father thought for a moment and said, “If you're going to do it, then do it properly.”

In exchange, there was a condition that I'd have to pause the channel if my grades dropped.

I made a plan to film only on weekends and to do all the editing during vacations.

My first video didn't even get twenty views, but an elementary school student left a comment saying they had tried the experiment.

Thanks to that single comment, I've kept the channel going for more than half a year now.

My father's brief words ended up teaching me a sense of responsibility.

While working at a company, I study programming on my own every evening.

Last year, I gave up halfway through making an app that shows available seats at the neighborhood library.

Every time an error occurred, I couldn't find the cause, so I gradually lost confidence.

On New Year's Day, I wrote in big letters in my notebook, “This time I'm determined to finish it no matter what!”

And instead of struggling alone, I joined an online study group and started asking about what I didn't know.

As I fixed errors one by one with others' help, my skills gradually improved too.

Last month the app was finally completed, and several library users are already using it.

I learned that the strength to see things through comes as much from the courage to ask for help as from willpower.

I live in Seoul, and my parents grow tangerines far away on Jeju Island.

Since we only met on the major holidays, my parents had only seen their granddaughter growing up in photos.

My parents would surely want to see their granddaughter's face often, and my daughter loves her grandma too, so we decided to try video calls.

So I bought a tablet with a large screen, left only the video call app on the home screen, and sent it to them.

For the first few days, only the ceiling showed on the screen instead of my father's face, and the whole family laughed for a long time.

Now my parents call first every evening and sometimes even help my daughter with her homework.

Last week they proudly showed us on screen the tangerines they had picked themselves in the orchard.

We're still far apart, but I feel we've grown much closer at heart.

A few months ago, advertising calls from unknown numbers started coming to my phone several times a day.

The phone rang even during meetings and while I was putting my baby to sleep, which was really troublesome.

At first I politely declined, but as the same calls kept coming, I grew more and more exhausted.

In the end, unable to put up with it any longer, I called my mobile carrier's customer center to ask what to do.

The agent told me about a feature that automatically filters advertising calls and how to report numbers.

The agent also told me to check whether I had ever agreed to receive ads when signing up for online shopping sites.

When I checked, there were three places where I had carelessly pressed the consent button before, so I canceled them all.

After that, the advertising calls noticeably decreased, and now I always read the details before pressing a consent button.

While sorting my bookshelves before moving, I sighed because there were so many books.

So I decided to read e-books instead of paper books from now on and bought an e-reader.

E-books were light and convenient because I could read them at night without turning on the light.

But after a few months, I felt that what I read didn't stay in my head very well.

When I read paper books, I had a habit of underlining and taking notes as I turned the pages.

So I concluded that rather than reading even my study books on a screen, it's better to buy them on paper and read them carefully.

Now I read novels I enjoy casually as e-books and study books on paper.

In the end, I think what matters is not the medium but the attitude of choosing according to the purpose.

One afternoon, I got a text saying my delivery address was wrong and I should click a link to fix it.

I happened to have ordered something online that week, so I almost clicked the link.

The wording of the text was natural, too, so it was the kind of message anyone could plausibly fall for.

But it seemed strange that it came from an overseas number, so I called the store I'd ordered from directly.

The store said they had never sent such a message and told me never to click the link.

It turned out to be a scam text that steals personal information from your phone if you click the link.

I reported the text and also warned my parents to watch out for similar messages.

I think the more urgent a text feels, the more we need the habit of checking it one more time.

One early morning, I got a notification that someone had logged into my email account from abroad.

Startled, I checked and found that my password had been leaked from a small website I had joined long ago.

The problem was that I had been using the same password on almost every site.

Now that the password was already out, I couldn't put it off just because it was a hassle.

I spent the whole day changing the passwords of more than twenty accounts one by one.

I also set up two-step verification, which confirms one more time through my phone when I log in.

It's a bit of a hassle, but since then my heart no longer sinks every time a notification comes.

I learned firsthand that thinking only about convenience can lead to even greater inconvenience.

Before changing my phone, I uploaded all my photos to online storage.

But when I checked on my new phone, there wasn't a single photo from last summer's trip onward.

Even though I had definitely backed them up, even my most precious trip photos were gone, and I didn't know what to do.

When I contacted the service center, the employee explained that the storage had been full since last summer, so photos after that hadn't been uploaded.

I had received notifications several times that storage was running low, but I had just closed them every time.

Fortunately, I hadn't reset my old phone yet, so I was able to transfer all the photos.

Since then, I personally check once a month whether the backup has been done properly.

I found that rather than trusting the machine to handle everything, it's important to read even a single notification carefully.

Last weekend my four-year-old nephew came to visit our house.

When I read him a picture book, my nephew tried pushing the picture sideways with his finger.

When it didn't turn like a tablet screen, he tilted his head in confusion, which was very cute.

It seems children these days learn about the world by touching screens before paper.

So I held my nephew's hand and showed him how to turn the pages one at a time.

At first he seemed awkward, but soon he giggled, saying the sound of the turning pages was fun.

It's hard to say which is better, screens or paper.

But I hope adults will help children get to experience both.

Twice a month, I volunteer at a children's robot class at the neighborhood library.

The children assemble small parts to build robots that move along a line.

In the last class, one child's robot kept going off the line, and the child burst into tears.

Instead of giving the answer, I suggested we look at the wheels and sensors together one by one.

After looking closely for a long while, the child found on their own that one sensor had been put in upside down.

When the robot ran along the line all the way to the end, the child told me it was thanks to me.

But all I did was ask a few questions from beside them.

I hope the experience of finding the cause on their own becomes a bigger gift to that child than the robot.

Since last year, our company has had a system of working from home three days a week.

At first, I expected to have more free time because there would be no commute.

But once I actually tried it, I practically lived in front of the video meeting screen from morning until evening.

As soon as one meeting ended, the next one began, so I could only do my actual work at night.

My teammates were having similar difficulties, so we changed the rules together.

We decided to post brief updates in writing and hold meetings only between two and four in the afternoon.

Then I became able to focus on my own work in the mornings without interruption.

I think deciding together how to use a new technology is as important as using it.

Last weekend I went to a newly opened science museum with my niece.

There, by pressing a button, you could see right before your eyes how lightning is made.

We also lay down in an exhibition room with a domed ceiling and watched the constellations in the night sky change with the seasons.

Only then did I realize that the things I had just memorized at school were such fascinating phenomena.

If I had come to a place like this as a child, I would have liked science more too.

Even on the way home, my niece kept asking why lightning happens.

I couldn't answer everything, so I promised we would look it up in books together next time.

I think curiosity grows when you see and feel things yourself, rather than being forced to learn.