고등학교 공통영어1 (YBM 박준언) 연계 글

In March, my first month of high school, I made a to-do list every night. The lists grew longer each week, but my evenings did not. By the end of the month, a typical list had fifteen tasks, and I accomplished fewer than half of them. I copied the unfinished tasks onto a fresh page, fell asleep around half past one in the morning, and woke up feeling overwhelmed.

One night, my grandmother watched me copy the same three tasks onto a new page for the third time. She read the list slowly and asked, "Which of these will you not do tomorrow?" It was hard for me to answer, because I had always judged a day by how much I put into it. That night, I started a second list with only three lines.

On the first line, I promised not to let my phone distract me until my homework was done. The other two lines ruled out recopying my class notes and accepting any request before checking my schedule. Recopying my notes in three colors of ink had always felt like studying. In truth, it was decorating, not studying, and it occupied an hour every evening.

I broke the phone rule twice in the first week. Then Daeun, a friend from the drama club, asked me to paint scenery for its spring play. I felt the usual urge to say yes, but I told her I would answer after checking my schedule. Declining her request the next morning was the hardest thing I did that month. Because my answer came within a day, it was still possible for Daeun to find another painter before the weekend. She even thanked me for being honest with her.

After that, it became easier for me to keep all three promises. By the end of April, I was usually asleep almost two hours earlier than in March. My to-do lists also became shorter, since many old tasks had existed only to make me feel busy.

Ending a day with a few unfinished tasks no longer makes me feel like a failure. Deciding what not to do has given me something that no to-do list ever gave me: room to breathe.