After entering college, several personal tragedies sent me spiraling into a deep depression. My counselor advised me to try new activities, so I registered for a Korean culinary academy. I was the only male in the class.

People are surprised to learn that I easily befriend and converse with older housewives. However, this did not happen overnight.

1 / 6

I was assigned to a team with three “ajummas” (Korean for “housewives” ), and they immediately asked me a stunning array of deeply personal questions. When I did not respond, they lost interest and continued chatting. But like a hedgehog with quills quivering, I kept my defenses firmly in place. 2 / 6

My salty pork rib stew was done, but it was barely edible. My knife skills were poor, and I was unable to keep pace with the ajummas. The next dish was similarly frustrating. I was ready to give up, when Ajumma A reached out her hand. "Your knife skills have improved, but try holding the knife like this…"

3 / 6

Ajumma B taught me how to season, and Ajumma C gave me tips on how to choose good ingredients. I had mistakenly thought that I had to resolve all of my troubles alone, but their tireless affection and advice lowered my defenses.

4 / 6

Their attention and chatting no longer made me uncomfortable. And we talked about more than cooking; from relationships to major life decisions, every word of their advice contained rich wisdom reflecting their experiences. And I was around their children's age, so I shared my opinions on their children's education and career paths. Contrary to my initial expectations, the six-month class was an absolute joy.  

5 / 6

At Sloan, though I will never engage in hurtful conversations, I am unafraid to be called a "chatterbox". I look forward to being a conversational bridge, facilitating communication among Sloanies. 6 / 6