“There is a power of empathy through the hugging and physical contact,” said Choi, who noted that, without developing that depth of bond, the program would not be effective. “We can laugh and cry with each other because of the presence of brotherly love.”
They can also share their own weaknesses, and that experience can actually be quite empowering, said Choi, who graduated from Father School two years ago. At the time he attended the program, Choi said he thought he would just get confirmation that “I was a good father.”
But, instead, he was awakened to a traumatic truth that made him realize how connected he was to his own father’s legacy.
“My father was not a good father,” said Choi, who described his home as one filled with shouting matches between his mother and father. “He did not take care of my mother, brother and me, as he should have.”
He shared a painful moment from his childhood: When he was walking home one day, he noticed a large commotion on his street. As he got closer, he realized that a crowd of neighbors had gathered outside his house and were watching his parents as they engaged in a loud and passionate argument. Choi was immediately filled with shame and embarrassment. He vowed that day he would never be like his father.
Yet, decades later, Choi would come home to a similarly traumatic scene. One day, during an argument he and his wife were having, she locked herself in the bathroom of their home and threatened to kill herself. The neighbors surrounded the couple’s home, and someone called the police. The situation was diffused, but Choi was left feeling upset and confused about the kind of husband and father he had become.
“She felt so cornered,” said Choi, explaining his wife’s actions. “I’m very strong, I know how to argue. She’s the opposite. She’s very vulnerable.”
They went through couples’ therapy and sought counsel from relatives and church leaders, and even contemplated divorce. It wasn’t until Choi attended Father School in 2011 that a switch seemed to turn on.
“Listening to other brothers talk about their wives and their problems, when you share that kind of stuff, you do a self-reflection and have a self-awakening,” said Choi. He actually took comfort in being able share his shortcomings with peers.
“I thought I was a good husband and father because I provided for my family, because I didn’t go out and drink. I didn’t go out and have an affair,” said Choi. But he said that Father School forced him to rethink his role.
“I needed to overcome my own parents’ family culture,” he said. He said that his wife felt like he acted like he was the ruler of the household and everyone had to listen to him, whereas he thought he was just upholding certain principles and values he held. Some of it was partly cultural, he said. “For example, [I would tell her,] ‘I expect you to call my parents once a week,’” said Choi. “I would impose my values. But now, I see that’s not necessarily right or good. What’s more important for me is being giving and understanding others better, instead of insisting they understand me.”
Choi said he is more of a “servant leader” now. “This means placing my family first, building firmer ties with them, and being more encouraging and helpful around the home,” he said. “I am not as stern as before. I make an active choice to lead my family in a positive direction, and I take seriously the importance of being a good role model to my children. I take the initiative to bless each of my family members, and engage them in conversation, to let them know that I care. I’m more emotionally in tune with my wife and my kids.”
Realizing that his own behavior as a husband and dad stemmed in part from his own father, he invited his dad to attend Father School. The elder Choi graduated in November 2011.
“He admits his past mistakes,” said Choi of his dad. “He smiles so much more now. My father is the biggest advocate of Father School, and he has a such a loving sacrificial heart.”
Choi’s father, in fact, volunteered at the recent English-language retreat, cleaning the kitchen after group meals, setting up tables and assisting newcomers park their vehicles. During the retreat’s opening night program, Choi’s father took the stage and gave a prayer of blessing in Korean. Reciting from the Book of Numbers (6:24-25), he inserted his son’s name into the prayer:
May the Lord bless Dean and keep Dean;
The Lord make his face shine upon Dean and be gracious to Dean;
The Lord turn his face toward Dean and give Dean peace.
“He has the heart to bless me,” said Choi. “[That] was very significant for me. Many Korean fathers don’t know how to approach their kids in an effective manner because they are a product of their own past. Having my father touch and give his encouragement to me publicly showed his confidence and courage. It was powerful.”
ON BENDED KNEE
The lights are turned off, and men silently entered the large room, carrying basins of water, with a towel draped over their arms. Each man got on his knees and laid the basins at their wives’ feet. The room was filled with the soft plucking of an acoustic guitar, accented by a few short nervous laughs from some of the women. The speaker instructed the men to take their wives’ feet and wash them as a sign of devotion and love.
It was Father School graduation day. The men were no longer at the retreat center in the mountains, but in a church conference hall in Fullerton. And no longer was it exclusively male, but wives and children had joined to watch their husbands and fathers graduate.
The evening carried a celebratory tone. Many couples got up on stage to share their experiences and the changes that they have noticed so far in the week between the retreat and graduation.
“Because of Father School, I have noticed that he has made an effort to look at me face to face and give me that personal attention,” said one wife.
Another wife said she noticed that Father School had started to change her husband’s attitude and behavior at home. “I noticed that after he came back, he’s been showing us a lot of patience and trying to listen to the kids more,” she said.
The evening’s speaker was Pastor Jim Bob Park of Oriental Mission Church in Los Angeles, and as the men left to prepare for the feet washing, he asked the wives to be patient with their husbands and to understand that this change is going to be a long process. “Sometimes their hurts are so hardened,” said Park. “It’ll take a while for the change to settle in.”
After the men washed their wives’ feet, the women took off a cross necklace and placed it around their husbands’ necks and whispered encouraging words to them.
Using a sports metaphor, the Father School group leaders implored men to “live the second half of their lives” far differently from the first. As Gilbert Paik, one of the group leaders, mentioned, good fathering is an ongoing journey that requires constant attention, support and courage. On that note, Choi and Kim said they hoped to expand the program to include days when the men can meet up periodically for barbecues and other outings. This kind of support group system helps create a sense of shared accountability, so they remember to continue what they learned at the school, said Choi.
Kim, who has studied the Father School program in such diverse contexts as the prison, the military, government, and public schools, said that the question of how men can become a better fit for their contemporary families remains unchartered territory, but is a question that is incredibly important to address.
Choi agreed, adding that the program does not just affect the individual man, but his wife and children, and generations to come, saying, “Your grandchildren are blessed because you came to this program.”
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This article was published in the September 2013 issue of KoreAm. Subscribe today! To purchase a single issue copy of the September issue, click the “Buy Now” button below. (U.S. customers only. Expect delivery in 5-7 business days).
