50 Million Mothers

An ex-pat on one the the foreigner forums said that living in Korea felt like having 50 million mothers,

He's not wrong.

Item: there was the elderly Ajumma who gave up HER seat for ME on the bus. We were just approaching a bus stop at the time, so I naively assumed she was getting off the bus and just making sure that I was the one to get her seat. Oh if only! We passed that stop. And the next one. And the one after that. All with me sitting and her standing. Honest to God I wanted to burrow through the floor. The next stop was mine, and I scuttled out of there as fast as I could, giving her a sincere but embarassed, 'Kamsahamnida!' (thank you) as I went.

Item: The school cook, who upon seeing me trying and failing miserable to debone small fish with my chopsticks, simply sat down, took a bowl and started doing it for me. She fired off some rapid Korean to one of my co-teachers, then turned to me and said, 'Baby.' To which I replied with a loud and plaintive, 'Eomma!' (mother). It was worth it to see the shock on her face at the Wagookin speaking Korean. Especially when the shock dissolved into delight!

Item: Last saturday, bussing home from the department store with a bag of multi-media delights. I was standing beside the seat of this adorable looking Ajumma, real apple dumpling cheeks and gummy smile. With that same smile, she simply reached out, took my bag and placed it on her lap for safe keeping.

Item: Since the hot weather really kicked in last week, our after school kids have begun showing up for classes every other day or so with iced coffees or ice creams bought by their Mums for us pathetically grateful teachers. You have no idea how heavenly an iced Mocha can taste after an hour of teaching action songs in 33 degrees.

Item: Last month at a teachers dinner the topic of conversation moved to the new Korean English teacher the school will be hiring over the summer. Our department head thought it would be a great if we could hire a man, as the rest of the English teachers are women and it would be good for the kids to have a mix. I laughed and said, 'and if he could be single and in his thirties, so much the better!' Five minutes later, I kid you not, our lovely Director turned to us and said, 'that new teacher, we should try to hire a single man, for Kate!'

Item: But the mothering to end all mothering (by which I mean that unique mix of compassion and gut wrenching embarassment) happened over lunch last Thursday. As you all know, I have rather thin hair. As some of you know, this was caused by heinous amounts of stress 15 years ago. It had come up in conversation with my co-teachers before and I had mentioned vague plans to use acupuncture. Last Thursday, the Director came and sat on one side of me, while Cook stood behind Mr. Science Teacher, who was sitting on my other side. The Director put her hand on my arm and turned to Miss V., my 'Designated Translator'. The long and the short of it was that Director and Cook had put their heads together and come up with a plan to cure my hair. It turns out that Cook - whose hair I have been lusting after for the past four months - once had less hair than I, and after one year of treatments she had gained the crowning glory she now possesses. They are going to take me for my first appointment next week.
Now all of this was lovely, and I deeply appreciated their interest in my welfare.......

but sweet Mother of God! Did that HAVE to have this conversation right over the head of the ONLY young and attractive male in the school!!
Aish! Chincha!!