48th
Today I heard a story from my friend Kwak. Back when she was applying to colleges, she applied to study film production at a university in Seoul. The university required all applicants to take an entrance exam, so she flew all the way from Jeju to Seoul. However, when the time came, she didn't go to the university because she was too afraid to take the test. "I didn't go to the testing site. Instead, I went to watch a movie near the university," she said. I pictured a teenage Kwak sitting in a dark theater, thinking she would now have to give up her dream of studying film. I wondered how many dreams are killed in this country because of an authoritarian education system that ranks students by their test scores and determines their worth accordingly.
Until a few years ago, I often had nightmares about failing in high school or college. In these dreams, I'd realize that I hadn't attended a class for an entire semester, or I'd walk into a classroom and find out there was an exam I knew nothing about. Every time I woke up from one of these dreams, I was reminded of how much my years of chasing higher GPAs had affected me. I suspect many Koreans carry similar memories of their school years. My wife, for example, still has dreams about being unprepared for important exams.
Some people call me a "free spirit" because I read, write, publish, and teach for a living. I don't work for a company, so some even say they're jealous of my freedom to do whatever I want with my life. However, I feel like I'm still shackled by the effects of nearly twenty years of schooling.
48th. I still remember being ranked 48th when I entered middle school in Jeonju. The exam was called a "homeroom placement test" because it was meant to divide students into groups based on their grades. It was my first time receiving test results on a piece of paper inside a white envelope. I had to get it signed by one of my parents. I knew my parents wouldn't be satisfied since I had been one of the top students in elementary school. I was especially terrified of handing the paper to my father because I'd seen him become enraged at my older sister for receiving poor grades on her midterms.
Although I later studied in China and the US, that number has been tattooed on my heart ever since. I often wondered what my life would have been like if I'd stayed in Korea. I would have had to take countless exams and ace them if I wanted to even think about attending a prestigious university.
In China, I almost got kicked out of school for skipping so many classes, but I was still able to attend a private high school in the US, thanks to my older sister, who had built a fantastic reputation as a sophomore there. I could apply to a college I wanted to attend because my parents could afford to pay full tuition, although I eventually transferred to a state university after realizing the tuition wasn't worth paying.
Most people in Korea would say I was one of the lucky ones who didn't have to take the college entrance exam to have a chance at joining the elite at one of Seoul's top universities.
I don't doubt that I would have struggled in the Korean education system, but studying abroad wasn't easy either. I had to learn new languages from scratch. In high school, I remember taking my first test in English. It was for a geography class, and I couldn't understand a single question on the paper. The teacher, Mr. Hatch, saved me that day by telling me to take the exam home and take as much time as I needed to answer the questions. Tyler, sitting in the front row, complained that I was getting extra time. Mr. Hatch told him, "Try taking this test in Spanish."
I'm still thankful to Mr. Hatch for that moment. Every year, I Google his name to see if there's any news about him. I still haven't found anything. All I know is that he retired a long time ago. That's how much I appreciate him. He saved me from hell that day. I was on the verge of tears, staring at a test written in a language I barely understood as the bell rang to signal that time was up.
Tons of students still give everything they have just to get into Ivy League or SKY universities. I've seen students pay for fake SAT scores, likely at their parents' insistence. I've seen students pay Harvard graduates to write their college applications. I've seen students locked inside math hagwons until 11 PM. I've seen students volunteer at hospitals just so they could write about it on their college applications. I've seen students spend six years trying to get into medical school. I've never met anyone who said high school was the best time of their life.
Today, in Korea, many of the students with the best grades go to medical school because the adults in this society think being a doctor is the best way to live. Because the so-called "smartest" students get the chance to become doctors, most students can't even dream of becoming one. In this system, what you really want to do doesn't matter. If your grades put you in the top 0.1% but you don't want to become a doctor, thousands of people will rush to call you a fool for wasting your chance. How dare you? Grades decide your future. Not you.
I wholeheartedly believe that high test scores aren't the only sign of someone who could become an excellent doctor. A student who isn't a test-taking machine might still have the curiosity, discipline, and compassion the profession requires. Why should exam rankings decide who even gets a chance to study medicine?
Most college students I meet in Korea say they chose their majors because their grades allowed them to get in. The system forces high school students to choose their careers and brainwashes them into believing that certain majors are more prestigious and worth pursuing because they'll make more money after graduation. At this point, schools are more like factories that produce obedient robots and spread corrosive beliefs.
Some say exams are the best way to select students because they're the only fair way to compete with one another. To these people, grades are sacred and must never be questioned. They've been taught to measure their worth through grades and degrees for so long that questioning the system might feel like questioning their own lives.
I'm in the process of unschooling myself, as if I'm cleansing all the toxic cells from my body. I want to rid myself of the fear that followed me out of school and into my dreams. I remind myself that I don't have to rely on any institution to acquire skills and knowledge. I tell others that human beings can't be reduced to test scores. Schooling smothered my creativity and my ability to confront authority and call bullshit on customs and rules.
I attended one elementary school, four middle schools, and three high schools. These schools all muzzled me and turned me into someone who was always chasing the image of a perfect student. I finally felt free in college, when I was left alone to spend an entire year deciding what I wanted to study.
That took long enough.
I needed that freedom back when I was told I was ranked 48th. That would have changed my life.