When I first stepped onto Cambodian soil this June, I didn’t expect the air to feel so cool. Just a day after a deadly border conflict with Thailand, Cambodia’s Prime Minister had severed electricity and internet lines from its neighbor, but the decision left regions like Siem Reap, already lacking in infrastructure, suddenly disconnected from the outside world. As monsoon season approached, the entire region felt suspended between political uncertainty and the everyday struggles of survival.

As a leader of LeadersTimes and a co-founder of Angels for Journey, I arrived in Siem Reap earlier than the rest of my group to help prepare for our support program. While waiting for the delayed flight carrying the rest of the team, I sat down with the local pastor and his wife, both South Korean missionaries who have lived and served in Cambodia for nearly a decade. In our conversation, I heard stories that don’t make headlines: stories are deeply influential like Cambodia’s $2,000 GNI per capita (15 times lower than Korea’s) or its deeply fractured education system, yet insignificant to major outlets. Children in Cambodia are, as the pastor’s wife said, “already grown by age 12.” It isn’t poetic exaggeration. In Phnom Penh and Siem Reap, I saw barefoot kids–some holding colorful scarves embroidered with elephants, others selling bracelets in the colors of their national flag–roaming the streets instead of sitting in classrooms. For many children, school is not a sanctuary. Teachers are underpaid at roughly $1,200 annually and often sell test answers or favor students whose parents can pay bribes. In classrooms where multiple ages are grouped together due to low enrollment and dropout rates, it’s not uncommon to see students dragging backpacks to school in silence, unstimulated and unmotivated. The pastor explained, “Though education is technically mandatory, no one is really teaching them. There is no reward for learning when the system is so deeply broken.”

This is the gap that Angels for Journey hopes to narrow.

With a suitcase full of school supplies, a tablet, and seven used smartphones, we traveled to three different church schools: the Hesed Bible School, the Tent of David in Mondul 3, and the Tent of David in Bethel Takam. At each stop, Cambodian students greeted us with choreographed dances set to songs praising God, performed in a one-car-garage-sized space.Without hesitation, they would teach me the dance moves, and I joined them on stage. I didn’t know the steps. But dancing became our first shared language. Eye contact, mimicry, giggles.

After our introductions, we read Nom Banh Chok, a Cambodian folktale we had translated into Korean and English. We also had the opportunity to listen to the story in Khmer, recorded by a Cambodian woman now living in Korea. For many of the children, it was the first time they saw their oral tradition in printed form, complete with vivid illustrations. That moment proved what we all sensed: with the right tools, these children are eager, desperate, even, to learn.

We played traditional Korean games like Yut Nori, Gonggi, Takji, and Jegichagi. They quickly became favorites. In Gonggi and Takji, the Cambodian kids beat us every time. One girl turned the paper airplane station into a folding masterclass, showing us faster, more aerodynamic styles. Others used coloring supplies and clay to sculpt everything. When we laughed, they laughed harder. A little girl named Yaya gave me a heart-shaped origami. Another, no older than six, cradled her baby brother as she played. These were the moments of charity and shared humanity we sought to bring in our press trip.

We met students like Sreynoch, Villay, Thaily, and Rota, who received the donated smartphones. The laptop and tablet went to the oldest daughter of a family with 12 children, a girl who, by cultural tradition, will inherit the family home and care for her parents alone. She studies in between preparing meals and looking after younger siblings. According to the pastor, Cambodia is a matriarchal society. Yet the burden that falls on women and girls is immense. Mothers are often away, working; fathers, though present, are sometimes violent or absent in other ways. The pastor’s wife told us, “When we first opened the school, the kids joked about hitting each other. That was what they saw at home. They had never known affection.” That’s why our time there mattered. It was not just about the material donations, but the connections.Even shy attempts to read our “LeadersTimes” T-shirts out loud felt significant. As the pastor’s wife said, “This visit is more than just a fun day. It’s a spark. You’re the first youth-led group to visit. This gives them a reason to keep going.”

At Bethel Takam, the most remote of our visits, nearly 70 students packed into a modest church space. They danced. They sang. They shouted “Akoun!” (Thank you!) as they each received school supplies, one by one. Before we left, I offered words of gratitude: “Thank you for the warm welcome. Though we come from different cultures and languages, I believe this encounter will help us all move forward.”

The Cambodian children never asked us to fix their country. But they hoped we would see them again and remember them. So we promise this: Angels for Journey will return, with more youth volunteers, more donatable devices, more times. Committed to the idea that education is not a privilege, we hope to support and grant them that right. And sometimes, all it takes to open the door is a paper airplane, a folktale book, or a donated phone.