By Park Si-soo
Staff Reporter
For all gods, big or small and irrespective of faith, it was their busiest day Thursday as virtually the entire nation engaged in collective praying.
Not only nearly 670,000 high school seniors and repeat applicants but also their parents and family members prayed to whomever they believed in, in the hope of scoring better in the College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT).
Their official scores to be released next month will be a key indicator in determining which universities and colleges they enter but, more broadly, influence what careers they may have and how successful they could be in a society where alma maters and towns of origin may promote or sever their line of advancement.
In the lead-up to Thursday, some mothers prayed for 100 days at churches or remote Buddhist temples, while fathers recited prayers on their way to work.
Students, who were taking the test, tried to look nonchalant but in their minds were ready to borrow, if they could, the power of whatever god to help them through the grueling hours.
The nationwide atmosphere was as religiously serene as it could be.
Airplanes were banned from taking off and landing during the time when English listening tests were being carried out. Police officers were dispatched to prevent vehicles sounding their horns within 200 meters of test sites and readied for any noisy accidents. Public transportation operated a full service to help students arrive at their test site on time - by 8:10 a.m. To foil any attempts to cheat via telecommunication gadgets, metal detectors were used to check test takers and their belongings.
A handful of students who have scores lower than they expected have committed suicide each year.
This "exorbitant" passion toward the test has motivated parents to spend millions of won a month ― even putting them into debt ― on private tutoring to put their children in the best position for university admission.
A record high of nearly 1.9 trillion won ($1.64 billion) was spent last year alone on private tutoring, according to the Bank of Korea.
Kang Shin-hee, a senior high school senior in Seoul and one of 677,834 test takers this year, spent last night half a sleep and woke up at 6 a.m., nearly one hour earlier than usual. Her parents and younger sister, who took the day off because of the test, were also busy that morning assisting Kang's departure for her test site, 20 minutes away from her home by car.
"I was told it takes at least two hours from waking up for the brain to work normally," the 19-year-old said. "I'm not nervous at all," she added.
Her talkative father was sitting silently in the corner of the living room. "I don't want to upset her," he whispered.
Holding a lunch box in one hand and a reference book in the other, Kang left home with her family members at 7:20 a.m. Before hopping into an SUV, they held hands -more firmly than ever - for a brief prayer. A serious atmosphere engulfed the SUV on the way to her test site, Jamsin High School, one of 1,124 testing sites nationwide.
Emotions surrounding the test site were mixed with anxiety higher than ever.
Scores of students from high schools in the vicinity queued up the road leading toward the school's front gate to cheer on test takers. Some held placards or banners that read "You can do it" and "Hit the jackpot," others doled out cups of coffee to try and cheer them up.
"We arrived here at 4:50 a.m. to get a good position," an unidentified cheerer said. "This is sort of a long-standing ritual we have to wish the test takers luck."
Parents of the test takers standing outside the campus were also nervous. A father emotionally waved his hands to his child strolling across the school's playground as if mimicking a bitter farewell to family members of South-North reunion event. Some mothers stood weeping while braving the chill morning winds.
The fervor of those wishing those taking the test well extended to religious centers too.
Hundreds of churches, temples and cathedrals across the country were packed with devoted mothers and grandparents until the test ended at exactly 6:05 p.m.
"It's a very unique scene that cannot be seen in Western countries. It demonstrates Korean parents' passion for their children's future success," said Michael Breen, former foreign correspondent in Seoul who has lived here for 27 years. "With virtually no alternatives to go to good university here, parents and students have no other choice but to become obsessed with the test."
Amid the growing fear of influenza A, the Ministry of Education placed those with similar symptoms to take the test in isolated classrooms. Medical staff and police officers were dispatched to every testing spot in case of an emergency, the ministry said.