I would never survive in Korea.
Before I go any further, and find myself in danger of sounding judgmental, allow me to clarify. I teach international adults and my local area has a HUGE Korean population. I also have had the pleasure of making many wonderful friends, some Korean- American and some fully Korean, giving me further insight into Korean culture.
Over the past few years, I have become positively fascinated by the complexities of Korean culture. And wow, is it complex. The traditions, the honor, the determination. And the expectations. Anyone who has read up on the concept of the “Tiger Mom” can only imagine the expectations. True, that mom is Chinese, not Korean. But it’s a similar situation, albeit from different cultures and not identical. (Wait, all Asians aren’t the same? No way!!!) It’s no wonder the Korean students are known for excellence. From what I have seen, anything less is rarely tolerated quietly.
I have intimate knowledge of the everyday life of my dear friend, who is Korean- American. Her life suits her well, and good for her that it does. If it didn’t, it would kill her or put her in jail for murder. Family, everywhere, all the time. And I mean ALL THE TIME. No break. No one week visit. Nope… they are officially moved in. And the ones that have not moved in have some significant expectations of how they fit into her life and what she owes them. Sometimes I envy her and sometimes I pity her. With all due respect… I don’t want her life. I’ll take mine, thanks. Here’s why.
“Free” babysitting:
With two young kids, I can only dream of going to the bank alone, and going WITH the kids qualifies as a true nightmare. The supermarket is hard enough and no quiet is expected there. But the bank? No friggin’ way. She, on the other hand, can leave her kids with a family member and go run errands all by herself, consistently. She can run out when they are sleeping because somebody is always there.
But there’s the catch. Somebody is always there. To question. To advise. To question. (Did I already mention that one?). To give input. To talk to her when she would prefer a moment of precious solace. To ask something of her at the one moment she might have been able to sit down for a cup of tea. Her house is not hers. Not really… so is the babysitting really “free”?
“Help” in the house:
Ahhhh…. The famous quandary. When I evaluate the quality of help received, it’s sort of like thinking about a boat in a storm. (Isn’t life at home with young kids really a storm anyways?) A certain amount of water is bound to come aboard, it’s inevitable. When you bring another person on board, the whole equation changes. The boat is heavier and it rocks differently, based on where people choose to stand/sit with the new arrangement. More water comes on board. In my mind, the real question is this.
Does this person bail more water than they bring in?
I guess the answer to that depends on what you tolerate well, or not so well. Personally, I prefer my own chaos with my own solutions. Don’t mess with my mess. I may not like it exactly the way it is, but I like it less once you’ve pushed it around, rearranged the piles. At least now I know which pile to look in.
My friend doesn’t have this luxury. With all the family that “helps” her, there are many opinions on how to make the house and child raising work. She does not, frequently, have the final word although she is the one who ultimately picks up the pieces. That would kill me.
“Respect” for “elders”:
I love my parents. I find them to be wise and smart. But I don’t always agree with their opinions on life, especially regarding child rearing and discipline. The fact that they raised two kids doesn’t mean they know best for my kids or my life as a mom of my young kids. Accordingly, sometimes they need to be reminded to back off and let me do my parenting job. As a full fledged American woman, I KNOW that I have that right. If something my parents are doing conflicts with my values and routine, I can tell them. It’s MY house. MY kids. Right?
My friend doesn’t have that luxury. Her life is so intertwined with that of her parents that who controls what is a very fuzzy line. Finances get all mixed up, so even if “who’s paying” was the answer, it wouldn’t be that simple. She benefits from this arrangement, but she also suffers.
My life is not easy, but it’s on my own terms. My chaos is my chaos. While I certainly owe many people many things, these “debts” are not the central element of my daily “budget”. Most of my “symbolic money” is unborrowed and I can live with that. I may live somewhat simply, but I prefer it that way.
Like I said, I would never survive in Korea.
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