South Korean kindergarten kids are enrolling in private early education programmes focused on English fluency. Photo / Tina Hsu, the Washington Post
The South Korean kindergarten kids squirmed through their English-language writing class.
They were not doing their ABCs. They were getting a head start on a defining moment more than a decade in the future: their college entrance exam.
“Write a paragraph of five to eight sentences using five synonyms for ‘large,’” said Ms Keri, their teacher. The kids began jotting down ideas in neat handwriting.
But their minds wandered easily. “Make a stinky paragraph!” one girl yelled in English. The class erupted into uproarious giggles, echoing: “Stinky! Stinky!”
South Korea has long been notorious for its hothouse education system, where kids go from classes at middle or high school straight to after-hours tutoring at cram schools, often until 10 or 11pm.
These private programmes prepare students for extremely difficult university entrance exams. Getting into an elite university is often seen as the golden ticket to a stable career at a top-tier company or government ministry.
But the race to the top schools is intensifying amid a widening income gap, fuelling parents’ anxieties about their children’s future job security, experts say.
As a result, some parents think it’s never too early to start preparing for college. Nearly half of children under-6 are now receiving some type of private education, most commonly English classes, according to a Government survey released in March.
“The opportunities to succeed keep dwindling, but there is one rare path that remains available, which is going to a good university,” said Won-pyo Hong, a professor of education at Yonsei University in Seoul.
“Then, of course, the competition to get into a good university becomes fiercer.”
The 6-year-olds learning from Keri Schnabel, a 31-year-old from Rhode Island are among a growing cohort of South Korean children who are enrolled in private early education programmes.
Such programmes are almost always focused on developing English fluency – a must-have for social mobility and a marker of intellect and wealth.
Some curriculums claim to teach maths skills so advanced the children would be on track for medical school.
There are even classes that train toddlers to sit without fidgeting for up to an hour at a time to build study habits early.
These niche programmes have become increasingly popular in the most affluent areas of Seoul, where some families shell out upward of US$1400 ($2320) for the classes and related fees every month.
They are now spreading throughout the country and gaining attention from the broader public, sparking debate over South Korea’s cut-throat education system and the private education boom.
“We need to seriously consider the excessive desire for private education, excessive investment, and excessive academic and psychological pressure on our children,” Hong said.
The skyrocketing cost of giving a child the best shot in life is one of the reasons why South Korea has the world’s lowest fertility rate and is facing a demographic crisis.
Government surveys show the rising cost of private education is one of the factors deterring couples from having more than one child or starting a family at all.
Critics of private education say the industry is stoking parents’ anxieties by creating a sense of urgency and desperation.
These early childhood English classes are usually taught by native English speakers, like Schnabel, who teaches at Twinkle English Academy in the affluent Seoul neighbourhood of Mokdong.
The 5- and 6-year-olds in her class learn about idioms, similes, and parts of speech from United States textbooks, including one for American 7- or 8-year-olds.
They speak in fluent English to each other and their teacher – sometimes about “eating lava”, sometimes describing black holes as a “giant singularity”.
By the end of this programme, they will write two-page essays with an introduction, three body paragraphs and a conclusion – the skill level of an American 9-year-old.
Doing well in cram kindergarten will help them get into an elite primary cram school.
“The point of the English kindergarten is to do well in the next level, which is in [primary] school,” said Kim Hye-jin, 37, whose 5-year-old attends English classes in Daechi, where private educational institutions are concentrated, in the ritzy Gangnam district.
“For the top cram schools, you have to get in early because the other schools don’t come close to how good their programmes are. So if you enrol later on, it becomes more difficult to follow their curriculum,” said Kim, an office worker.
Those places have long waiting lists for prospective pupils, who are required to take entrance exams.
A recent documentary by the broadcaster KBS found that some of the entrance tests are at the English and maths level of high school first years.
“Only the few top cram schools offer these tests, so they don’t have many spots open. So the door to enter those schools gets smaller and smaller,” said Lee Mi-ae, an education consultant in Daechi.
“Parents’ dreams and ambitions, and those academies that fan these flames, have led this industry to balloon.”
This has given rise to “prep” programmes, mostly in Daechi, to specifically train kids to take entrance exams for primary level cram schools. Some of these programmes teach children to memorise entire essays to regurgitate later.
Prep schools pepper social media with advertisements claiming high success rates, and there is even a black market for entrance exams to help kids study.
The Education Ministry last month launched an investigation into these marketing practices and extreme prep programmes.
In Daechi, buildings are lined with signs for an assortment of “study cafes” and cram schools – English, maths, coding, debating, and more. There are even rest areas for students to take a breather between classes, including a “screaming zone” where they can vent.
The neighbourhood is known for its relentless academic focus, extreme even for South Korea, and for launching kindergarten cram classes.
“They say children these days don’t meet friends at playgrounds; they meet them at cram school,” said Kim, the Daechi parent.
“That’s how unavoidable it is. As a parent, I just have to try to make the best decisions I can.”
Kim and other parents are worried about their kids burning out.
They also worry about their kids falling behind compared with their peers, or otherwise being left out of a system that promises to set their children up for elite education and a successful life.
“All of these mothers are pouring so much energy and attention into their children who are just [6],” Kim said. “So I worry a lot about how much worse it will get once they start [primary] school.”
More psychiatric and alternative medicine clinics are cropping up in the Gangnam area, according to domestic media reports.
The number of health insurance claims for depression and anxiety among children aged 8 and under in the area has more than tripled in the past five years, according to figures released in April by the education committee in South Korea’s legislature.
Seo Dong-ju, 41, whose 5-year-old attends a less intensive English school in the Gangnam area, is not convinced that a competitive cram-school path is the right one for his son.
“My kid still loves dinosaurs and animals, so much that we always take him to the aquarium,” said Seo, a thoracic surgeon.
Seo said he is concerned about the long-term physical, psychological, and societal impacts of excessive schooling on little children.
“I think this culture needs to change dramatically,” Seo said. He hopes to see policymakers overhaul a system that he believes is a disservice to the nation’s youngest.
“This is the biggest problem facing our children’s generation right now,” he said.
“The most pitiful thing is that by the time it materialises into societal problems, it will be too late for them.”
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