Recently, a high school student’s parents made newspaper headlines by appealing to Seoul National University to cancel their son’s admission, granted through the early decision program, so that he could apply to other universities. Newspaper reports said that the student’s teacher had urged him to apply for admission to SNU to boost the high school’s reputation. But the student encountered a problem: According to rules and regulations, those who are admitted to a university by an early decision program are bound to the university and thus are not allowed to enter other universities.

Ostensibly, the incident looked extraordinary and even heroic; how could someone possibly turn down a priceless admission ticket to SNU and want to apply to other universities? The reason, however, was so ordinary and mundane; he was admitted to the School of Chemical and Biological Engineering at SNU, but he wanted to enter the College of Medicine in order to be a doctor. We do not know the exact reasons for the student’s desire to attend medical school. Perhaps he had always dreamed of becoming a doctor. Or perhaps he was influenced by societal pressure to pick a “prestigious” career.

We know, however, that many Korean parents want their children to become either a medical doctor or an attorney if their grades and test scores are good enough. The reason is often very simple and worldly: They see medicine as an esteemed profession that makes lots of money. They would never want their children to become another Dr. Livingstone or Dr. Schweitzer. Likewise, Korean parents want their children to become a lawyer, a prosecutor or a judge, not because they expect their children to build a better society, but because those jobs entail prestige, money and power. They want to satisfy their own vanities and bask in the glory of being the parent of a doctor or an attorney.

It is lamentable that such a selfish social phenomenon prevails in today’s society. Entering medical school has become not only fashionable, but also a measure of one’s competence in today’s Korean society. Lately, one high school senior even secured admissions from the medical schools of seven prestigious universities. In order to enter either medical school or law school, Korean high school students burn the midnight oil, studying through the night until they are exhausted. As a result, quite a few students sleep in the classroom at school, believing that what they learn in school is not helpful for the college admissions exam. But they are wide awake at their hagwon, where they go to study after school. In South Korea, hagwon have emerged as another form of school, which are often more powerful and effective than regular schools.

How bad has the Korean educational situation become? A Time magazine article reports rather humorously: “When Singapore’s Education Minister was asked last year about his nation’s reliance on private tutoring, he found one reason for hope: ‘We’re not as bad as the Koreans.’” Time calls Korea a country of “educational masochism.” The Economist also points out the absurdity of the Korean educational system which decides a young man’s future once and for all by only one exam. The journal calls South Korea “the one-shot society.”

The purpose of Korean students’ education is simple: to win the competition and get into a prime university. In fact, such a goal does not seem to have anything to do with the original aims of education, such as “to cultivate minds, promote moral thinking, foster creativity and expand imagination.” Students just seem to memorize anything that looks helpful for preparing for the college entrance exam. And our teachers train them to become machines that can pick the right answers and crush their opponents. A Korean philosopher once lamented: “Alas! We train our students to become ruthless warriors, not noble knights.”

Indeed, instead of learning to work with others or live for others, our students learn that their classmates are their archenemies who they must compete with. They do not seem to contemplate issues such as “How can one live a meaningful life?” or “How can I be of help to others and society?” Instead, they seem to be preoccupied with “How can I beat my rivals and competitors?” or “How can I win, no matter what?” Meanwhile, their mothers eagerly pray to God, pasting sticky taffy on the gates of universities on admissions exam day: “Oh, Lord, please let my child win this war and enter a prime university! Let my child defeat other applicants. Amen!”

Indeed, our students study day and night, investing more time in studying than any other students in the world. But the aim of their study is not quite right, and neither is their method of study. We ought to teach our students how to think, create, and interact with others, including foreigners. We should urgently overhaul our age-old educational system and boldly implement a wholly new and innovative one to foster a new generation that is well prepared for a rapidly globalizing world.

By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon, a professor of English at Seoul National University, is editor of the literary quarterly “21st Century Literature.” ― Ed.