Every Korean highschooler feels the same change of air when it comes November. It’s Suneung (CSAT) season. Airplanes are on a halt during the listening section of the test. Police cars escort students who are late. It is perhaps the most intense, high-stakes day for anyone in Korea. It’s effectively a win-or-go-home game.
There are clear pros and cons that I remember briefly mentioning in previous blog posts.
Pros: “Fairness,” or the fact that every student is tested on similar grounds is why this intense, even toxic system at times still stands. In a country that went from poverty to a manufacturing powerhouse and cultural icon, the test is the epitome of how the term social mobility is perceived: everyone should have an equal chance in succeeding. No matter which family you come from, how wealthy you are, or how good of a person you are, you can’t get into the top universities without getting a near perfect test score. Think of the old saying “numbers don’t lie.” It’s just that.
Cons: But the “numbers” fail to put value to humanity. The obsession toward making everyone start on equal terms makes the single exam seem like the most important thing in life. This is often called “teaching to the test.” Think of it like a baseball player who wins every Home Run Derby or Dunk Contest but fails to do so in an actual game.
The distorted form of tutoring, or Hagwons (private academies), is a direct result of this policy. It makes education seem like a “pay-to-win” game, or a game where whoever finds the best teacher and spends the most time memorizing information wins. Leading the Robinson Review, I encouraged students to try writing creative op-eds. Korean students felt this was the most challenging task I had assigned, not because they weren’t smart or had studied enough, but because they were terrified of being “incorrect” even though such a thing didn’t exist. The policy creates generations of top individuals in problem solving, but problem-finders are near non-existent.
I wonder, is the policy effective in actually educating students rather than simply sorting them? I argue it doesn’t. Generational talents with sky-high potentials never even get to the bat before they head back to the dugout.