In this episode of NPR's Book of the Day, author Min Jin Lee and Scott Simon discuss Korea's hagwon system—private learning centers that supplement traditional education—and how it reflects a global trend of intense educational competition. Lee draws parallels between hagwons and similar institutions in the U.S., exploring how this pressure affects families across cultures who make significant financial and emotional sacrifices to secure their children's educational success.
The conversation examines the broader implications of this competitive environment, including how the 1997 Asian financial crisis shaped immigrant families' experiences and how Korean cultural traditions of self-sacrifice influence modern educational choices. Lee and Simon question whether the pursuit of prestige education delivers the satisfaction and success families expect, and they consider the psychological toll of pressuring children to achieve at increasingly demanding levels from an early age.

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In this episode, Min Jin Lee and Scott Simon explore how Korea's hagwon system reflects a global trend of intense educational competition that places significant psychological and financial burdens on families and children.
Lee explains that hagwons are Korean learning centers that teach everything from test prep to cultural skills like piano or tap dancing. While these centers have contributed to Korea's rapid development and the high abilities of Korean children, they've also created severe stress on families, contributing to negative birth rates as parents opt out of having more children due to the cost of hagwon tuition.
Lee emphasizes this phenomenon isn't uniquely Korean—the U.S. has equivalents like Princeton Review, Kaplan, and Kumon. Drawing on her own experience, she recalls asking her parents for several hundred dollars to attend Princeton Review in New York, a significant sacrifice for her family that mirrors the hagwon dynamic in Korea.
Simon notes that parents across backgrounds worry their children will fall behind without credentials from prestigious institutions, fueling substantial spending on supplementary education. Lee argues that while it's common to criticize these systems as excessive, such critiques overlook why families pursue them: the desire to secure better futures for their children. She emphasizes that parental investment reflects care and love, and dismissing these families without understanding their motivations is unkind.
This competitive environment means children must develop professional-level skills far earlier than previous generations. Lee describes how her fictional character Mito, working at a hagwon in Southern California, observes her students developing distorted outlooks on education's value—a phenomenon that began as distinctly Korean but now clearly affects U.S. middle-class families seeking prestigious schools for their children.
The 1997 Asian financial crisis forces the Koh family to abandon their secure middle-class life in Seoul and immigrate to Southern California. John and Helen Koh shift from white-collar professionals to working-class jobs, living in a modest apartment with yellowed linoleum floors—daily reminders of their reduced circumstances.
Lee notes that this downward mobility forces the Koh children to mature rapidly as they witness their parents navigating precarious economic terrain. The loss of their security bubble, though painful, fosters quick emotional growth as they come to terms with new responsibilities far earlier than their previous life would have required.
Lee recounts the Korean parable of Shim-Chung, the "blind man's daughter," who sells herself to sailors so they can safely cross violent seas, then donates the rice she receives to monks who pray for her father's sight. This tale exemplifies the Korean cultural virtue of filial piety and Confucian self-sacrifice.
Lee highlights how this tradition of sacrifice carries into contemporary family dynamics, where parents make substantial sacrifices—often beyond their means—for their children's educational success. Families frequently overspend on supplementary education, enduring significant financial and emotional strain in hopes of securing elite placement for their children.
Lee reflects that attending prestigious schools often doesn't result in the life achievements or satisfaction that families expect, citing numerous examples of elite alumni who found that anticipated rewards didn't materialize. This disconnect raises questions about whether families' significant sacrifices are justified.
She notes that global competitiveness pressures youth to achieve "Olympic-level excellence" in all aspects of life, setting an unfair and nearly impossible standard that causes psychological harm. Both Lee and Simon question when, if ever, individuals relentlessly pursuing prestige take time to enjoy their accomplishments. Lee observes that even when someone reaches a highly desired goal, the pressure immediately shifts to the next milestone, leaving little room for satisfaction or contentment in a life driven entirely by endless striving.
1-Page Summary
Min Jin Lee and Scott Simon discuss how the intense drive for educational advancement, exemplified by Korea's hagwon system, parallels trends in the United States and places heavy psychological and financial burdens on families and children.
Min Jin Lee explains that a "hagwon" is a Korean learning center and a deeply integrated part of Korean culture. While often associated with academic cram schools for entrance exams, hagwons also teach other skills, such as cooking, tap dancing, or playing piano. Hagwons are regarded as the place to acquire any skill outside traditional schooling or higher education, contributing to both academic excellence and broad cultural competence for Korean youth. According to Lee, the push for supplementary education has led to remarkably high abilities among Korean children and was a factor in Korea’s rapid national development. However, this pressure has a cost: severe stress on families, a negative birth rate, and many parents opting out of having more children due to the inability to afford hagwon tuition.
Lee views the hagwon model as a global phenomenon, not solely a Korean one. In the U.S., equivalents include well-known supplemental education services such as Princeton Review, Kaplan, and Kumon, which families use to prepare for standardized tests like the SAT, LSAT, or MCAT. These institutions serve a similar function in helping students compete for spots at elite schools.
Reflecting on her own experience, Lee says she did not attend a hagwon in Korea but, as a high school student in New York, desired to attend her dream college. Realizing she needed a high entrance exam score and noticing her wealthier peers attending Princeton Review courses, she asked her parents for $300 or $500—a significant sum for their family—so she too could attend. Her parents made the financial sacrifice, mirroring the hagwon dynamic within the context of American educational competition.
Scott Simon notes that parents of all backgrounds worry their children will fall behind in life without a credential from a prestigious, name-brand institution. This anxiety fuels substantial spending on supplementary education, whether Korean hagwons or American test prep services.
Min Jin Lee provides a personal example from her own family, highlighting the willingness to stretch limited resources for specialized tutoring in hopes of better educational outcomes—again echoing countless families’ struggles to afford supplementary education in both the U.S. and Korea.
Lee argues that while it is common to criticize hagwons and similar systems as harmful or excessive, such critiques often overlook why families pursue them: t ...
Educational Competition: Pressure to Invest In Supplementary Education and Secure Elite School Spots
Before the crisis, John and Helen Koh are securely upwardly middle-class, working white-collar jobs and raising their three children—Bo, DH, and Mito—across America, Australia, and South Korea. The onset of the 1997 Asian financial crisis abruptly ends their stable life in Seoul. To seek new opportunities, the Koh family immigrates to Southern California, entering a culture filled with new possibilities but also harsh realities.
Once white-collar professionals, John and Helen Koh are forced into working-class jobs. Their children, accustomed to middle-class comfort, witness their parents navigate a far more uncertain economic terrain. The shift is stark, marking an abrupt change in family fortunes.
The family's new life is marked by reminders of reduced circumstances. They live in a small apartment with linoleum floors, possibly once yellow, a daily reminder of their lost comforts and the new limits on their lifestyle.
The children experience shock as they see their parent ...
Impact of the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis on the Koh Family's Economic Struggle
Min Jin Lee recounts the story of Shim-Chung, known as “the blind man’s daughter,” which exemplifies the Korean cultural virtue of self-sacrifice rooted in the traditions of filial piety and Confucianism. In this parable, Shim-Chung sells herself to sailors, enabling them to safely cross a violent sea in exchange for a large quantity of rice. She then donates this rice to a monastery so monks can pray for her father’s sight to be restored. This tale is held up as an example of the ideal behavior of a good daughter or son in Korean culture. The narrative draws on deep Confucian beliefs, illustrating that virtuous self-sacrifice—particularly for the benefit of one’s parents—is a foundational value in Korean society.
Min Jin Lee highlights how this tradition of sacrifice carries into contemporary family dynamics. Many parents in Korea, and increasingly in America, make substantial sacrifices—often beyond their means—for their children’s educational ...
Korean Tradition of Self-Sacrifice: Confucian and Filial Piety Influences on Parental Sacrifice For Children's Success
Min Jin Lee reflects on the experiences of elite alumni, noting that attending prestigious, name-brand schools often does not result in the life achievements or satisfaction that students or their families expect. She cites "maybe 10 examples, maybe 20 examples" of people who attended such schools, only to find that the anticipated rewards and fulfillment did not materialize. This disconnect calls into question whether families’ significant financial and emotional sacrifices to secure high-status educational credentials are justified, especially when these credentials may not reliably lead to either success or happiness.
Lee comments on the intense global competitiveness among youth, stressing that the ambition for global success—particularly among young Koreans—focuses more on international prestige than on local accomplishments. The drive for global competitive excellence sets an unfair and nearly impossible standard for most, since so few top positions exist and the competition itself is inherently inequitable. Lee argues that the resulting pressure causes psychological harm by pushing young people to achieve "Olympic-level excellence," often at significant personal cost.
Evaluating the Worth of Prestige Education and Global Competitiveness: Are Financial and Emotional Investments Justified?
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