I am an editorial writer at The Korea Times, focusing on foreign policy, North Korea and domestic politics. My key areas of interest include North Korea, foreign interference in elections, election integrity, cyberattacks and human rights. Prior to joining the Editorial Board, I served as both Politics Desk editor and Culture Desk editor. During my career, I have reported on the Presidential Office under the Lee Myung-bak administration, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the National Assembly.
Husband & wife defectors’ Korean dream finally comes true
By Kang Hyun-kyung
Staff reporter
As a former government official in communist North Korea, Kim Tae-san had to endure a series of disheartening moments over the past eight years in capitalist South Korea before seeing his business thrive.
Kim, 59, a former chief of a Czech Republic-based North Korean state-run company producing shoes, is now an employer, hiring seven South Korean university graduates at Sunkwang Junior Lab School in Hwagok-dong, western Seoul.
With his supportive role as a life coach, his wife Lee Eun-hye became a trailblazer as an English specialist, breaking South Koreans' deep-seated distrust of North Koreans.
Before meeting Lee, it was hard for South Koreans to imagine a North Korean being able to speak English fluently.
In the minds of most South Koreans, an English tutor is a young, single and charming lady who spent years in English-speaking countries and as a result her pronunciation and accent are just like a native English speaker.
But then 50-year-old, Lee who defected from North Korea in 2002 broke the social taboo.
The couple opened a private English institute in western Seoul in July 2006.
About 180 elementary and middle school students living in the district of low-income families take courses at the institute composed of five classrooms and a conference room on the third floor of a building.
Kim's wife, who majored in English at the Pyongyang University of Foreign Studies, is the chief English teacher there, while he oversees the overall management of the institute.
She was raised in a wealthy upper-class family in the North and "was not allowed to soak her fingers in a drop of water" -- meaning that her parents didn't ask their beloved daughter to do any chores at home -- before marriage.
Kim and Lee, along with their youngest daughter who now attends a university in the South, escaped from North Korea in 2002, leaving behind two other children, a son and a daughter.
After settling down in the South, they worked hard to make money to bring their remaining two children in the North to South Korea.
After two unsuccessful attempts through two middle people, the parents were finally reunited with their son and daughter at their new place in Seoul.
Before the interview with The Korea Times last Thursday at the institute, Kim ushered the reporter to classrooms set aside for math courses on the fourth floor of the building.
"Recently my wife and I decided to start teaching math courses. When we began this academy in 2006, we asked a South Korean company to remodel the interior. But this time, I did it myself," he said.
He explained that the previous work was poorly done and that's why he was determined to handle the new job from A to Z on the fourth floor himself this time.
English divide
Asked how his wife became a fluent English speaker, Kim appeared uncomfortable.
Instead of answering directly to the question, he asked the reporter bluntly if North Koreans were not supposed to be great at English.
Actually, social workers, who help those who have escaped from North Korea for freedom adjust to the community in the South, said that North Korea-born high school and college students had a hard time dealing with English at school.
It is a widely accepted idea here in South Korea that the gap in English ability between children from high- and low-income families here in the South is all due to money.
Children from wealthy families are exposed to an English-friendly environment from a young age as their parents can afford to sponsor overseas English camps during the summer or winter break or high-paying immersion programs at private institutes while school is in session for their children.
However, this is not the case for working-class families. The English divide is the result.
Considering that a child's English proficiency is said to be a reflection of their parents' financial ability, many South Koreans tend to believe that the average North Korean's English skills must not be outstanding.
According to media reports, the North Korean economy is so impoverished that millions of residents there are starving.
Little information is available about the level of English education in the North.
Nevertheless, South Koreans should keep in mind that there are always exceptions like Kim's wife.
North Korea experts here attest that most students of the same alma mater as Kim's wife in Pyongyang are the children of upper-class families or the descendants of the nation's heroes.
Those who complete the five-year program are entitled to receive a language proficiency certificate in their area of specialization.
One North Korean defector told The Korea Times that being admitted to the Pyongyang University of Foreign Studies is even more difficult than that of the top-tiered Kim Il-sung University, also in Pyongyang.
He explained that students who are admitted to that university are known to have two core requirements _ great academic performance during high school and a strong network with high-ranking government officials.
Fighting discrimination
Despite his wife's English proficiency, husband Kim confessed that his wife had to deal with many suspicious South Korean clients and employers who kept questioning her ability, even without giving her a chance to prove herself.
Their suspicions are based largely on the fact that she is from North Korea.
The wife began her eventful teaching career in 2003.
"A friend of mine here, who is a pastor, knew my wife's English was great. He recommended my wife to the chief of the Hansol Education Yangcheon branch for an English tutor position," the husband said.
The employer, however, turned her down without looking at her resume, after recognizing from her accent that she was from North Korea.
"Rich people live in the district and the employer didn't want to risk her business by hiring an employee who was from North Korea and whose age was a lot older than the other teachers who were young, sophisticated and single," Kim said.
Price of freedom
After being refused employment and deeply frustrated, Lee wept before her husband one day.
He responded, "I reminded my wife of the main reason that drove us to give up our relatively good life there, compared with average North Korean residents."
"We knew that we were not going to be treated as respectfully as we were in the North. Although our life there was good, we had to live under surveillance. We came here for freedom."
The husband encouraged his wife to try again and to remain optimistic.
Eventually his wife got a job offer as an English tutor who visited homes to teach children in western Seoul where the majority of residents are working-class families.
On the first day as a teacher, his wife was assigned to teach 70 students living in the area.
On the next day, however, most of those students quit after the parents found out that the English teacher was from North Korea.
"Parents questioned my wife's English skills. They were wondering if she could pronounce words properly or if her English accent was accurate. It was tough for my wife," Kim said.
Lee endured the hostile environment and her patience paid off. The number of students under her guidance increased to 120 six months later.
"At the time, the average monthly income for young female teachers was about 1.3 million won. But my wife's salary was approximately three or four times higher than others," he said.
On the husband's side, he also had to give up things like his career and self-esteem in his desire for freedom and democracy in South Korea.
From the age of 51 to 54, the former high-paying white-collar worker in the North had to carry heavy bags of cement on his back at several construction sites like the Cheonggye Stream in downtown Seoul during the urban restoration project.
New mission
The couple have a mission.
"As a person who had lived in North Korea and who knows what the society is like, I think that a regime change will eventually come to North Korea and it will open up the economy sometime in the future. I think it could be as early as 2014," the husband said.
"If this happens, I believe the new North Korean government will allow those who left the country for freedom like me and my wife to revisit their hometown. I will drive my car with my family to see and help my friends and relatives who I heard had blamed me a lot for defecting," he said.
He went on to say that "I will help my friends and relatives learn the way that a free market economy works so that they can also make money. They will realize that I am not a traitor but still their friend."