As someone who has taught at both Korean and American universities, I know there are some interesting differences between the two higher educational institutions. In Korea, for example, most high school students seem to believe that a college degree is imperative in order to climb the ladder of social ascension. As a result, more than 80 percent of Korean high school graduates eagerly enter college every year. In the United States, however, only those who find pleasure in studying seem to pursue a college degree. American universities are well known for their rigorous academic training in undergraduate education. Therefore, if you think you have no aptitude for study, you do not enter college in America; instead, you start your professional career early by finding a job. 

Another intriguing difference stems from people’s notion of entering a university and graduating from it. In American universities, it is much more difficult to graduate than to be admitted. As for Korean universities, however, it is extremely difficult to enter a prime university but once you are admitted, it is relatively easy to graduate. In Korea, the “beginning” is important whereas in the United States, the “ending” is more crucial. In America, quitters are not admired. Perhaps this is why Americans refer to the year of graduation when they say, “class of 2005,” while Koreans refer to the year of entrance when they say, “class of 2005.”

In Korean universities, students often impertinently ask for a better grade. After receiving their grades, a considerable number of Korean students customarily email their professors, pleading for, sometimes demanding, a better grade. Those students seem to think that grades are something they can bargain about with their professors. I once received an outrageous email from a student majoring in business administration who demanded an A+, arguing that he deserved it instead of an A0. How he could make such an impudent plea simply eludes me. In American universities, with the possible exception of college athletes who may lose their scholarships when they fail to maintain good grades, virtually no students would dare to make such an outrageous demand.

Another striking difference is in the treatment of a professor who receives a research grant. In American universities, when a professor wins a research grant, all he has to do is submit the final result of his research and have it published in a journal. In Korean universities, the professor is subjected to all kinds of rules and regulations. Sometimes, he is treated as if he is a potential thief conspiring to appropriate the money. In the worst cases, the professor is audited by the National Research Foundation of Korea for possible embezzlement and thus has to prove that he spent the money legitimately by producing receipts. Professors in the humanities used to call sarcastically the Haksul Jinheung Jaedan (Korea Research Foundation), which oversees research grants and was later annexed to the National Research Foundation of Korea, the Haksul Jinap Jaedan (Korea Research Oppression Foundation).

One of the outstanding differences is the retirement age. American professors can remain active as long as they want, while Korean professors are legally required to retire at age 65. Despite the advantage of being a life-time professor, some American professors volunteer to retire when they reach 70 or so. I once asked an eminent American professor who had retired at 75, “What made you decide to retire?” “Young students are no longer interested in literature these days,” he answered. “So I lost interest in teaching them as well. Besides, I do not want to be evaluated by them every semester at this age. They are younger than my grandchildren.” A few days ago, I asked another famed American professor emeritus the same question, “Why did you decide to retire?” “I’m 71. I’m older than the grandfathers of my students,” he chuckled. “That’s not good. Besides, I couldn’t grade 70 students. I fell asleep while grading. So I decided to retire.”

Another noteworthy difference is the size of faculty offices. Despite the vast size of the country, American faculty offices are incredibly small. There is virtually no space for bookshelves, and sometimes no room to turn around. Perhaps that is why it is called an office, not a study. American professors in the humanities generally study at home and come to school only when they have classes.

On the contrary, Korean faculty offices are much more spacious. For example, I have approximately 3,000 books stacked in eight huge bookshelves in my office. Still, I have enough space for a sofa and a console table, two computers, a TV, a DVD player, a refrigerator and many more. Korean professors usually spend all day in their offices, reading books, conducting research, and conferencing with students. Perhaps this is why they need spacious offices that can also serve as a study and guestroom.

These contrasts between American universities and Korean universities present interesting cultural differences. It is not necessarily an issue about which one is better or worse. Instead, they just demonstrate the differences in our cultural perceptions, values, and priorities.

By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon, a professor of English at Seoul National University, is editor of the literary quarterly “21st Century Literature.” ― Ed.