Summer: to the suburban American child, the season is intrinsically associated with a certain slate of activities. Barbecues. Youth sports leagues. Fireworks. Swimming pools. However, as a child, it was not any of these idyllic leisures that characterized summer for me. To me, summer meant one thing: math problems. Every day, right after breakfast, my mother would have my brother and me sit at the kitchen table and begin the tedious process of working through one book of practice problems after another. We were not allowed to leave the table until we had satisfactorily completed our quota for the day. As I sat at that table and solved algebra problem after algebra problem, this never struck me as out of the ordinary. It was not until much later that I realized I had a less than typical childhood. Those summer mornings in the kitchen typified the kind of upbringing my mother provided. From the youngest of ages, an industrious work ethic and a healthy desire to learn were regarded by me not as virtues, but simply the status quo.

I am the son of a first-generation Korean American. My mother first moved to the United States when she was sixteen years old. My father is an American-born Caucasian. Despite being only half Korean in my ethnicity, my Korean heritage and my mother’s background have helped to shape and define my life.

In Korea, my mother had been poised at the pinnacle of Korean academic success. She was already enrolled in the prestigious Kyungii Girls High School when her family emigrated to America. Upon arriving in Baltimore, she essentially had to begin again from scratch. With only the most limited grasp of the English language, she was forced by circumstance to attend a public high school while my grandparents were struggling to make ends meet. It was only through the utmost dedication to her own education that she went on to attend the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine and become the successful dermatologist she is today.

Because of the hardships she faced in achieving her goals, my mother, like many first-generation immigrants, understands the importance of a strong work ethic. It is this part of her character that has been perhaps my mother’s greatest influence on my life thus far. As long as I can remember, she has always pushed both my brother and myself to prioritize our lives, to always remember to take care of our work before play. It wasn’t just that we had to do our work; we always had to do our best. By ingraining in me a healthy respect for hard work from a young age, my mother helped instill in me what I believe will be a lifelong desire to learn and succeed.

The rewards of my mother’s teachings are easily discernible. I can say without hesitation that I do not believe I would be attending Stanford University this fall were it not for her guiding hand. My brother has been similarly successfully in his academic endeavors. The qualifications that brought me to this juncture in my life (good test scores, good grades, summer research and academic programs, cello competitions, youth orchestras etc.) would not exist to the extent that they do without the presence of a work ethic as a central part of my character.

However, as easy as it to distinguish these rewards now, there nevertheless have been some challenges in the process. Even at young age, I was made to understand that I would have to make sacrifices in order to better myself in the long run. I was encouraged, or on some occasions, forced, to forego socializing for the sake of one or another academic or musical commitment. While my friends were devoting their summers and weekends to an endless succession of gatherings and sleepovers, I found myself staying at home to study or practice the cello. While they were enjoying school dances and parties, I was attending Model United Nations conventions and cello competitions. My desire to join their revelry often led to some unpleasant confrontations with my parents. However, in the face of my indignant anger, my mother repeatedly enforced the mantra: “You can’t be like everyone else if you want to be better than everyone else.” Cold as these words seemed at the time, they ring of truth. My mother taught me that if I wanted to advance myself in life, I could not rationalize my falters into laziness with the lower standards of those around me.

Trying as some aspects of my experience have been, I do not regret my upbringing. As a direct result of my mother’s unwavering direction, I stand poised at the threshold to adulthood with nearly no limits in the direction or magnitude of my success. The only obstacle that threatens my progress is my own ability to take advantage of my fortunate circumstances. Equipped with the lessons gleaned from my mother’s lifetime of experience, I am confident that I will make her proud.

Eric Whitney, bio
South Barrington, IL