I believe in my mother. When I was a child, I was afraid of my mother. She was pretty stern. From waking up to going to bed, I was tense. If I woke up late, she opened the window and took my blanket away despite the hard winter. It was like nightmare for her to call my name when I had a sweet dream. She didn’t permit me to misbehave or to have bad habits such as being late or absence from school. Even though I was sick, she took me to school on time. I am the youngest of my siblings, but she never granted my childish behavior. I can’t forget the moment when I got a bad report card. My mother’s annoyed face came to my mind. I struggled whether I had to go home or had to leave home forever.
As I was getting old, I tried to understand what she wanted and behave before she scolded. Her hard look at me decreased slowly, and my fear of her gradually disappeared. In the meanwhile, I had a hard time to concentrate my energies on my studies in a high school. I often suffered severely from stomach convulsions because of stress from a sense of duty. If a convulsion started, it lasted all through the night. I couldn’t sleep well because of throwing up, sometimes even stomach acid. I couldn’t eat anything. I couldn’t come to consciousness. The only thing that I could do was to throw up again and again like a cow.
When I opened my eyes with recovery, my mother was curled up sleeping close by me. I could finally remember her nursing. It was a hard winter and she was sleeping without a blanket and looked quite exhausted and old. While I suffered from convulsions, she cleaned up and fed me rice soup. The tears that I shed as soon as I saw her were the hottest in my life. I realized then that my mother was the only person who would do anything for me.
The honesty, confidence, and spiritual strength that she rigorously taught me became the most important things in my life. Those have been especially valuable supports when I was in trouble. Once, I lost my voice for two weeks caused by singer’s nodules. I was a teacher, but my doctor told me not to use my voice for one month. But I couldn’t be sick because I couldn’t disappoint my students who go to school with confidence in teachers. So I went on teaching even though when I talked I felt pain like needles stuck in my throat. But I was pleased that they paid attention to my whisper on a microphone. Also, when I was in charge of my class, I never allowed my students to be absent from school. So nobody was absent for one year. Later, parents and students expressed their thanks to me for teaching responsibility and diligence. I thanked my mother.