The Double Life of Physics Class

Dear Kang-ho,

You’ll smile at this: the term “physics class” has taken on a life of its own.
At first, it was just three students who stayed behind after the bell, pretending to solve equations while we spoke—carefully—about the gravity of ideas rather than objects.

Now, the numbers grow. Slowly, but steadily.
Some arrive under the pretext of borrowing chalk. Others linger to ask about a formula they already understand. A few simply sit, silent, their presence an act of quiet defiance.

We never speak openly. Instead, I write a single word on the board at the start of each session—never the same twice. The regulars know: each word is a doorway. We step through it together, mapping the unseen.

Last week’s sequence was this:

Horizon
Friction
Pulse
Escape velocity
Resonance
Silence

Each one carries more than its surface meaning. Horizon becomes possibility. Friction is the courage to resist. Pulse is the proof we are still alive. You would have loved the discussion on Resonance—how one voice can set another trembling without ever touching it.

Sometimes I wonder how far this can go before someone notices. But then I think of your actors, and I know: once the door has been opened, it can’t be shut again.

Until then, the blackboard remains our stage.
And “physics class” will keep its double life.

In solidarity,
Joon-hyung