Korea's education fever and demographic decline

By Sean O'Malley

I recently finished watching the hit Korean drama "Crash Course in Romance" from tvN. I thoroughly enjoyed the romantic comedy, but there is a dark side to the story that should not be overlooked. (Spoiler alert ― below includes information about the show, so if you have not seen it, you may wish to stop reading.)

Revolving around the life of a star teacher, his pupils and their parents, the show takes viewers inside an elite private academy in Seoul and explores the pressures felt by participants in South Korea's highly competitive culture of education. Through 16 episodes the show racks up an astounding list of troubles caused by Korea's education fever: one sociopath with homicidal tendencies, one student driven to urges of murdering a rival, two suicides, one attempted suicide, one threatened suicide, two destroyed marriages, one divorce, two criminal cheating scandals instigated by parents and numerous cases of unethical behavior by overly competitive parents and an academy boss. At times the show is a light-hearted rom-com, but it is also a showcase of systemic mental and physical child abuse.

My consistent worry while watching the show was how closely this art imitates reality. In the show, parents manhandle students to force them to study; every student lacks sleep and a proper diet; and one former student is a homebound recluse after a mental breakdown from study pressures. In addition, overly competitive mothers collude to have the top achieving student ejected from a special class, not only to remove a rival, but also to help the derelict son of a wealthy and connected family to receive a seat in the class.

Equally disturbing in the show is a student who does not know how to study. He formerly attended a school for sports but was cast aside after an injury ended his prospective career. This element hit close to home as I once had a similar student who was injured one year before university graduation. His fellow students taught him to read his textbook and take notes in class, as one would help an elementary school student. I often wondered how he would survive with no practical skills to speak of following his so-called education.

I realize a number of shows have dealt with the education of Korea's youth over the past few years, but I have generally avoided them. In retrospect, much of my troubling discomfort with this show came from the pervasive and natural ease with which these dark elements of tortured children and unscrupulous parents weaved seamlessly through the storyline. As an American, I have been asked by Koreans on numerous occasions whether the United States has private academy education like that which exists in South Korea. My answer is always the same: "No. In America it would most likely be considered child abuse."

Korean youth may spend up to 17 hours per day on their educational routine. Recent studies show nearly 80 percent of students participate in private education, with the number reaching 85.2 percent of elementary students. The average monthly per-student cost for those enrolled in private education is approximately 524,000 won, with nearly 20 percent of those students spending 700,000 won or more per month.

Worse still is South Korea's plague of suicidal tendencies. South Korea has led the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) in suicide rates for years, but when it comes to Korean youth, the numbers are staggering. A 2020 study by the National Youth Policy Institute showed that 27 percent of middle and high school students considered ending their own lives in the previous year.

The number was 19.6 percent for male students and a whopping 35 percent for female students. The No. 1 reason for contemplating suicide was academic problems at 39.8 percent. The actual suicide rate for children aged 15-17 reached 9.9 of 100,000 in 2020, and the nutritional deficiency of students aged 10-18 was an incredible 23.4 percent, this in the world's 10th-largest economy.

South Korea has a serious demographic crisis, too. A fertility rate of 0.78 per woman, the lowest in the world by far and well below the replacement rate of 2.1. The government has spent a reported $200 billion over the past 16 years to solve the problem, but the number continues to decline. Although economic reasons are most cited for the decline, I can't help but wonder whether the culture of education is a significant contributor to the problem.

There is little doubt that the demographic challenges facing Korea are daunting, but where there are challenges, there are also opportunities. If the show "Crash Course in Romance" is art imitating reality, even slightly, then South Korea needs to make some bold changes to the education environment. May I suggest eliminating the Ministry of Education as a start? If there is any institution more responsible for systematically building the foundation for what the youth of South Korea now call "Hell Joseon," I can't see it. Perhaps it is time to tear this edifice down and rebuild a system that is not considered "hell." Education is supposed to better society not ruin its youth.

An image remains etched in my mind from many years ago. It is the image of girl who looked no more than eight years old dressed in her yellow school athletic uniform and carrying a heavy backpack. She was entering a busy subway station in central Seoul nearing midnight. I ask the same questions every time I think of her: what parent would let their adolescent child walk alone at midnight through a megalopolis? What society would condone it? I have lived in South Korea for decades now, and I have come to accept such things here as they are. Still, I'm not sure that makes them right.

I enjoyed "Crash Course in Romance" and I accept it as a rom-com, but I won't soon forget its darker side. I hope others don't either.

Sean O'Malley (seanmo@dongseo.ac.kr) is a tenured professor of international studies at Dongseo University. He has taught elementary, middle, and high school students at public school in the United States and has been educating the university youth of South Korea for 20 years.