Cross Cultural Academic Strain; South Korea Vs Nigeria

 When I think of South Korea, I envision vibrant colours, the global sensation BTS, impeccably smooth skin, warm smiles, and a deeply rich culture. This is the commonly portrayed image of South Korea, which I have also seen in a handful of K-dramas I have watched. Moreover, South Korea is among the top three countries on my travel bucket list, alongside Singapore and Turkey. 

The same K-dramas that sparked my admiration for South Korea exposed me to a lesser-known aspect of the country. One lazy day, when I chose to set aside my chores, writing tasks, and school books, I settled in bed to browse Netflix for a captivating movie. "Sky Castle" caught my eye with its fascinating title. Despite my initial assumption of a fantasy narrative, the series digs into the fervent pursuit of higher education by wealthy families, who spare no expense to secure placements in top universities for their children. It sheds light on parents' aspirations to live vicariously through their offspring, manifesting in a relentless quest for academic superiority. Upon viewing several episodes, I was prompted to read about this aspect of South Korean society. The idealized beauty that initially captivated me has now been juxtaposed with a darker reality, revealing a side that is far removed from the image often portrayed.

The educational system in South Korea follows a 6-3-3-4 single ladder structure, consisting of 6 years in elementary school, 3 years in middle school, 3 years in high school, and 4 years in university or 2 to 3 years at a junior college. The acceptance rate for Korean universities stands at 8%, indicating a highly selective admission process, particularly challenging to secure a place at prestigious institutions like Korea University. Students in South Korea are known for their competitiveness. It is not uncommon for parents to enlist the help of professional tutors to guide their children in pursuit of university acceptance. Unfortunately, the intense academic environment and societal expectations in South Korea have led to concerning rates of suicide among high school students. On average, there are 7 deaths per 10,000 people attributed to suicide among young students. The cultural stigma surrounding mental health and the intense academic demands are key factors that contribute to the prevalence of suicidal ideations and attempts among South Korean youth.

Upon reflection, I began noticing some parallels between the Korean educational system and our system here in Nigeria. It is widely acknowledged that students pursuing professional courses in leading Nigerian universities are exceptionally intelligent. The high scores needed for admission—over 300 in the Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination (UTME) and above 75 in the Post-UTME—require immense diligence and intelligence. Picture students in such courses solely to meet their parents' wishes for third-generation doctors, dentists, nurses, engineers or lawyers in the family. Can you imagine a student denied the choice to follow their passion, forced instead to toil hard to satisfy their parents' egoistic desires, their destiny predetermined even before they can distinguish between q and p? This situation brings to mind Merlin, a character with a daunting destiny already thrust upon him from a young age; it echoes the pursuit of prestige and success seen in some families today.

Understandably, responsible parents want their children to succeed and reach heights they could only dream of. However, what some may overlook is that children should not merely fulfill their parents' unfulfilled aspirations but rather embark on their unique paths. Parents should offer guidance and support rather than suffocate their children with unrealistic expectations of perfection. If you find yourself living out your parents' dreams instead of your own, it is never too late to pause, reflect, and pursue your true passions. When you become a parent in the future, avoid imposing your unfulfilled desires on your children. Instead, empower them to discover and pursue their interests. 

Give these kids rest. Allow them space to breathe. Do not push them to the point where they start to craft their hands with the edges of steel blades. When they feel like their voices have been silenced so much that they seek freedom at the edges of cliffs, where they grow wings and fly into the horizon – a place where you, as a parent, may never see them breathe again. 

Victoria Taiwo, BELLO