From criticism to compassion: Teacher’s reflections on decade of change
Ten years ago, I published an essay titled “Inappropriate Grievance” in The Korea Times, criticizing a piece called “Teacher’s Tale.” That essay voiced the daily struggle of female teachers in Korea, describing their effort to balance overwhelming school responsibilities with domestic duties. At the time, I admit that I found their complaints frustrating. I believed their mindset was selfish — especially when they described overseas English training programs as a “safe haven” from their burdens. I argued that while they escaped, others had to shoulder their workload and students suffered from the absence of their homeroom teachers.
But now, a decade later, I see things differently.
The Korean education system has changed — and not for the better. Teachers are no longer respected as moral guides or mentors. Instead, they face hostility, emotional strain and a lack of institutional support. Students, once obedient and curious, now often behave like “wild animals in the jungle,” testing boundaries and disregarding authority. The classroom, once a place of learning, has become a battleground of stress and survival.
In recent years, we’ve witnessed a heartbreaking rise in early retirements among teachers. More tragically, some have taken their own lives, unable to endure the pressure and emotional toll. I am one of those who chose to leave early. And as I reflect on my past words, I feel a deep sense of guilt. I failed to empathize with my coworkers. I failed to recognize that their pain was not a sign of weakness, but a cry for help in a system that was already cracking.
What I once dismissed as an “inappropriate grievance” was, in truth, a courageous act of vulnerability. Those teachers were not selfish — they were human. They were trying to survive in a profession that demands everything and gives little in return.
So where do we go from here?
If we are to restore dignity to the teaching profession in Korea, we must begin by listening. Policymakers, school administrators and society at large must acknowledge the emotional and physical toll of teaching. Teachers need more than applause on Teacher’s Day — they need structural support, mental health resources and a culture that values their well-being.
Here are a few steps we can take:
• Mental health support: Schools should provide access to counseling and stress management programs for teachers. Emotional resilience should be nurtured, not assumed.
• Workload redistribution: Homeroom teachers often bear the brunt of administrative and supervisory tasks. These responsibilities should be shared more equitably among staff.
• Respect and protection: Clear policies must be enforced to protect teachers from verbal abuse, physical threats and undue criticism from students and parents.
• Professional development with purpose: Overseas training programs should be reframed not as escapes, but as opportunities for growth. When teachers return, they should be supported in reintegrating and sharing their knowledge.
• Public awareness campaigns: Society must be reminded of the value teachers bring — not just academically, but morally and socially. Media and public discourse should celebrate educators, not vilify them.
Ten years ago, I wrote from a place of frustration. Today, I write from a place of understanding. The teaching profession is not just a job — it’s a calling. But even the most devoted hearts can break under pressure. If we want our children to thrive, we must first ensure that those who guide them are thriving too.
To every teacher who has endured, who has spoken up, and who continues to care — I see you now. And I stand with you.
Lee Eung-tae (eungtae@gmail.com) is a former high school teacher who taught English for 35 years.