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, push them toward well-known cram schools. This is because they believe that enrolling their children in cram schools focused on the core subjects—Korean, English, and math—and making them manage a packed schedule that includes arts and sports classes is the best investment in their future. Suddenly, I recalled hearing that a classmate who had ranked first in the entire school during middle school had become a famous math instructor, so I looked up one of 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 Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT). Although the name was a bit embarrassing, his statement 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 withdrawing my eldest son from the academy, because he was struggling with math, his most important subject. Having observed for a long time how my son struggled with and grew weary of the academy system, this was a careful decision I made after having a deep conversation with him. I decided it would be better for him to tackle the challenges on his own rather than forcing him to sit through classes just because everyone else was attending, so I set two rules for him: “No jumping ahead” and “Repeat from the basics.” While others were already working through high school-level material, I had my child start over with quadratic equations from the second-year middle school curriculum. My child, whose pride was hurt by the thought that “this is too easy,” kept making mistakes even on simple problems. Only then did they realize the importance of fundamentals and concepts and begin to immerse themselves in repetitive practice.
Simply watching a tutor solve problems is not studying—it’s a “misconception.” Only by solving problems on your own—even if it takes a long time—can you truly build your own skills. Alongside their studies, I had my child write a blog. I trained them to read books, summarize them, and organize their thoughts. At first, my child was embarrassed, but by reading the feedback and encouraging comments I left, they gradually developed their writing skills and literacy. We set our sights on a foreign language high school. I believed that if my child demonstrated strong English skills, international experience, and—above all—an “upward-trending curve” of gradually improving 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 her wake up early to review memorization-based subjects with a clear mind, and I made sure she was in top condition with a hearty breakfast. To boost her concentration, I shared anecdotes about MLB players who follow unique superstitions, helping her maintain just the right amount of tension. On the first day of midterms, when she was discouraged because the English exam was difficult, I encouraged her by saying, “The harder the questions, the more advantageous it is for those with true ability,” and helped her focus on the next exam. Then, on the second day, I received a KakaoTalk message saying they’d 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 at the academy solved the problems for me, I’d understand them at the time but forget them right away. But after struggling through them on my own, the memories are still vivid.” He also mentioned that thanks to writing the blog, he’d developed the patience to read Korean reading passages all the way through. Watching my second son boast about his older brother’s grades as if they were his own, I felt a deep sense of gratitude welling up inside me. It fills my heart with emotion to see that the miraculous moment I once experienced—when I solved all the math problems on the college entrance exam simply by repeatedly working through past exam questions—seems to have been recreated 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 trends of technology and innovation in my life, I’ve come to realize that resisting change and clinging solely to past habits is what exacerbates our generation’s “financial illiteracy” and passes on a heavy debt to the next generation.
Last summer vacation, withdrawing my eldest son—a third-year middle school student—from all his cram schools was the biggest “bet” of my life. After reading John Lee’s Habits of the Rich, I became convinced that an “economy of catch-up”—where children anxiously follow the path everyone else takes—cannot foster a child’s self-reliance. I believed that, rather than relying solely on cram schools, the process of organizing the tools to solve problems on his own and clarifying his thoughts through a blog was the surest asset for his future.
As a result, my son experienced a sense of accomplishment on his own and is now motivated to think about his own career 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. Even as the rough waves of final exams crash down, I hope my children will realize their own worth before they focus on numbers. I, too, will not stop this precious investment—growing alongside my child—as I pursue my dream of “building a house on a 100-pyeong lot.”
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