For parents raising children preparing for college entrance exams, guiding their studies is always a difficult task. Most parents either teach their children based on their own school experiences or, driven by anxiety, send them to prestigious cram schools. This is because they believe that making their children manage a packed schedule—filled with cram schools focused on the core subjects of Korean, math, and English, as well as arts and sports classes—is the best investment in their future. Suddenly, I recalled hearing that a classmate who had been at the top of our class in middle school had become a famous math instructor, so I looked up his videos. He introduced himself as the “Real Killer Master,” meaning he is a master at solving “killer problems”—the high-difficulty questions on the college entrance exam. It was a slightly embarrassing name, but his argument that “killer problems combine multiple concepts, so the ability to connect them is crucial” was very persuasive. His explanation that students must organize their own “tools” to solve problems on their own also resonated with me.
Last summer vacation, I took the bold step of pulling my eldest son out of cram school because he was struggling with math, the most important subject. I barely managed to calm my wife’s worries—she asked, “What are we supposed to do if we don’t even send a child who doesn’t study to a cram school?”—and I gave my son two rules: “No jumping ahead” and “Repeat from the basics.” While others were already solving high school-level problems, I had him start over with quadratic equations from the second-year middle school curriculum. My child, whose pride was hurt by the question, “Isn’t this too easy?”, kept making mistakes even on simple problems. Only then did he realize the importance of fundamentals and concepts and begin to immerse himself in repetitive practice.
Watching a cram school teacher solve problems is not studying—it’s merely a “delusion.” Only by solving problems on your own, even if it takes time, can you truly build your own skills. Alongside his studies, I had my child write a blog. I trained them to read books, summarize them, and organize their thoughts. At first, my child felt embarrassed, but by reading my feedback and encouraging comments, they gradually improved their writing skills and literacy. We set our sights on a foreign language high school. I believed that if my child demonstrated English proficiency, international experience, and—most importantly—a “steady upward trend” in grades by the end of 9th grade, the admissions officer would recognize their sincerity.
During exam periods, I emphasized the “miracle of 30 minutes in the morning.” I had the child wake up early to review memorization subjects with a clear mind, and I prepared a hearty breakfast to ensure they were in peak condition. To boost concentration, I shared anecdotes about MLB players who follow unique superstitions, helping the child maintain a healthy level of tension. On the first day of midterms, when my child was discouraged by a difficult English exam, I encouraged them by saying, “The harder the questions, the more advantageous it is for those with true ability,” and helped them focus on the next exam. Then, on the second day, I received a KakaoTalk message saying they had achieved the highest average score in history. I could almost see the look of pure joy on my child’s face.
When my child came home, they confessed, “When the tutor solved the problems for me, I understood them but forgot them right away. But after struggling through them on my own, the memory is vivid.” They also mentioned that writing the blog had helped them develop the patience to read Korean reading passages all the way through. Watching my wife rejoice and my second child boast about their older sibling’s grades as if they were their own, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. It fills my heart with emotion to see that miraculous moment from my own past—when I solved all the math problems on the college entrance exam simply by repeatedly working through past exam questions—seem to be repeating itself for my son.
In fact, this educational decision aligns with my “investment perspective” on the world. Over the past few years, I’ve taken an interest in and actively invested in a variety of assets, ranging from ETFs and stocks to cryptocurrency. As I’ve embraced the rapidly changing currents of technology and innovation in my life, I’ve realized that resisting change and clinging solely to past habits only exacerbates our generation’s “financial illiteracy” and passes on a heavy debt to the next generation.
Last summer vacation, withdrawing my eldest son—a ninth grader—from all his cram schools was the biggest “bet” of my life. I gained confidence from reading John Lee’s *The Habits of the Rich*, but my wife was so worried that she blamed me entirely, claiming I was ruining our child’s future. However, I concluded that an “economy of catch-up”—where children anxiously follow the path everyone else takes—could not foster their self-reliance. I believed that the process of organizing the tools to solve problems on their own and clarifying their thoughts through a blog was the surest asset for their future.
As a result, my child experienced a sense of accomplishment on their own and now has the motivation to think about their own future path. I am convinced that this is the best “return on investment” of my life. The reality is that the “winner-takes-all structure” mentioned by former Deputy Prime Minister Kim Dong-yeon and the tragic news coming from schools still weigh heavily on my heart. Yet, I wake up at 4:30 a.m. every day to trade and write my blog, moving forward quietly. Though the rough waves of final exams are crashing down, I hope my child will realize their own worth before focusing on numbers. I, too, will not stop this precious investment of growing alongside my child as I pursue my dream of “building a house on a 100-pyeong lot.”
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