I would term my school life upon returning to Korea in 2014 as “educational whiplash.”
In America, school was like baseball spring training. It was full of new, different personalities, filled with good mistakes, ones that were fun and encouraged me to try different things. I have fond memories of “Star of the Week” presentations in which we were encouraged to share about ourselves. My teachers cheered me on to speak up, even if I didn’t feel ready or had the perfect presentation. Where the American education system shines is here: school teaches to explore and build. It wants you to be vocal about your ideas. It’s similar to a player development system that focuses on foundational “tools” rather than practical mechanics. You’re valued for your potential.
But then I returned to Korea, facing a completely different world.
I was no longer in spring training, rather a postseason game, maybe even Game 7 of the World Series. I saw perfectly arranged rows of desks facing the board, which asked one thing, “What is the answer to this question?” I was shocked to learn I was one of the worst performing students in math. My baseball grips didn’t see any light in the test papers I was given.
There is an undeniable and powerful strength in the Korean education system: course rigor and foundational knowledge. You can think of the Korean national archery team that wins Gold medals in every competition they compete in. Efficiency, Precision, and Perfection. You never need to worry about falling behind because the system will force you forward.
Unfortunately, the weakness to the Korean education system is irrefutable. There is no room for mistakes. While the American system can sometimes get a bit loose, leaving students without a clear destination for learning, the Korean system doesn’t allow such breathing room. It certainly ensures a high floor but often caps the ceiling by eliminating creativity.
The transition in 2014 still remains as the most jarring period in my life. It taught me how no system can be perfect. The American system highlights each individual, producing innovators but also large gaps. The Korean system underscores a collective standard, establishing a highly educated workforce but also severe tension.
My interests in policy often make me wonder: Would it be possible to combine “American confidence” with “Korean grit”? Or are they like chalk and cheese? We’ll never find out the perfect answer, just like whether it will ever be possible to see a pitcher throw 100 mph and have the command of Greg Maddux.