Education is not merely a process of knowledge transfer. It is a stage where a human soul unfolds, and a canvas where inner landscapes are painted. Experiencing the education systems of two countries, I not only observed the differences between two methods but also embarked on a journey of fundamental change and realization within myself.

Elementary Education: Discovery of Freedom and Play

When I recall Korean classrooms, rigid chairs and desks aligned in rows first come to mind. In that space, children sat all day, being injected with knowledge. There was certainly learning, but sometimes it felt as if freedom and creativity were restricted.

When I first encountered an American classroom, I discovered the kind of education I had long dreamed of deep in my heart. Tables grouped together, children freely lying on rugs listening to books, fun events like pajama day... all of this was the learning landscape I had hoped for. A space where children breathe freely, meeting learning with joy and curiosity. It was the ideal that the inner educator, hidden within strictness and discipline, had finally found. It was the moment I witnessed the realization of the free and happy learning I had dreamed of.

Spending time with the children in that classroom, I felt subtle changes occurring deep within my soul. The pure curiosity in the children's eyes, the joy of learning in their laughter, awakened something I had forgotten. Like a long-closed window slowly opening to let in fresh air, my rigid educational views began to melt away little by little.

In that space where the line between play and learning blurred, children were receiving knowledge not as a heavy burden but as an exciting gift. For them, learning was not an obligation but the joy of discovery, and in the face of that pure passion, I began to reflect on my own educational journey. The weight and obligation that had been attached to the word 'study' slowly peeled away, replaced by new perspectives of 'discovery' and 'exploration'.

This was more than just a difference in educational methods; it was a fundamental change happening deep within my soul. Perhaps I was rediscovering a part of myself that I had lost long ago in these children. The essential joy of learning, the pure gaze that looks at the world with curiosity... This first treasure I found in American elementary education was ultimately a process of unearthing the treasure buried within myself.

Literacy: Wisdom Soaking in Like a Gentle Rain

Everyone says, "You should read books." However, 'how' to read, the methodology, differed vastly between the two countries.

What impressed me most about American education was its literacy (reading and writing) education. The method of helping children's abilities develop naturally, literally 'like a gentle rain soaking into clothes,' gave me a quiet感动. The systematic way literacy education was conducted within public education in America was astonishing.

Especially, reading was not merely a recommendation but an essential daily activity. What captured my heart most was the reading education conducted in two ways. While children read assigned books by grade level, the 'leveled reading' system, where each child reads books appropriate to their reading comprehension level, was a sophisticated method that allowed children to build their skills while preserving their self-esteem. When I ran an English reading academy in Korea, I already embraced the philosophy of 'leveled reading'. I pursued a method that respected the different developmental speeds and interests of each child, providing books tailored to them. However, I always faced a question in that process: "When will my child's reading level go up?" In the earnest eyes of parents, I often felt a subtle tension. The greatest impression I found in the American education system was the value of 'waiting'. The cultural attitude of not just acknowledging a child's developmental process but genuinely enjoying and waiting through that journey deeply resonated with me. It was an attitude that valued the process over the result, individual unique growth over comparison, and it was an educational value I had long pursued as an ideal but found difficult to fully realize under the pressures of reality.

Writing education was also surprisingly systematic. Starting with simply tracing example sentences in first grade, watching the process of children gradually creating their own sentences was as moving as watching a child take their first steps. Starting with basic sentences like 'I like apples,' they developed to express their thoughts logically by around fourth grade, which once again awakened the wonder of human development.

Once, I mustered the courage to ask an American teacher, "In Korea, first and second graders thoroughly learn English spelling through dictation. What do you think about this?" My heart subtly trembled as I awaited her answer. This was not merely a question about educational methodology. It was a question of the soul, seeking confirmation of the educational philosophy I had long held deep in my heart. The teacher's answer echoed deeply within me like an old reverberation. "If you give children enough sound input and practice reading, they will naturally recognize even more difficult spellings when they become proficient readers." At that moment, I felt something unraveling within me. It was as if a knot that had been tightly bound within me for a long time was slowly coming undone. In fact, this was a process I had personally experienced when learning English as a child, and a principle confirmed in research books like 'The Reading Brain'. However, it was not easy to enforce this philosophy in the Korean educational field. The impatience of parents, the expectation of visible results, and the competitive educational environment often clashed with my educational philosophy, and the internal conflict and sense of isolation I felt during that process were sometimes a heavy burden.

Another impressive aspect of this American literacy education scene was that children treated books not as objects to be 'conquered' but as 'friends'. In the process of imitating characters in books, drawing scenes, and discussing stories, books became a living, breathing experience rather than mere stacks of paper. This approach went beyond simply improving reading ability; it fundamentally redefined the relationship with literature and life.

In my view, the biggest advantage of this American-style literacy education is that children perceive language not as a 'subject to study' but as a 'tool'. It was something that existed as naturally as the air we breathe, something absorbed naturally in daily life rather than artificially filled in. This shift in perspective signified a fundamental change in attitude towards knowledge and learning, beyond mere educational methodology.

To Korean parents who have recently arrived, this system might feel unfamiliar, but the philosophical depth and meticulous understanding of human development contained within it can certainly inspire our education as well. Especially, the ESL (English as Second Language) program functioned as a warm safety net, helping all children discover their own voices beyond linguistic barriers.

Like a gentle rain soaking into clothes, the magic of language slowly but surely permeated the children's inner selves. This was the treasure I found in American education. And this discovery provided a new perspective on my long-standing 고민 about the balance between 'achievement' and 'process'.

Secondary Education: The Value of Exploration and Failure

Adolescence is perhaps the most confusing and yet most beautiful period in life. A time to find oneself, to define one's relationship with the world. How do the two education systems show different approaches during this sensitive period?

What was most surprising about American middle school was the perspective of it being a 'period of exploration'. A culture where trying various activities and trying something else if interest is lost is accepted as a completely natural process. This was so different from the environment I grew up in.

In my childhood, my explorations were often considered a 'waste of time', and concentrating on one thing and completing it was a virtue. However, the children I saw in American middle schools freely failed, and through those failures, they learned about themselves. The realization, "This is not my aptitude!" was regarded as a discovery, not a frustration.

Projects like planning a trip and budgeting, or choosing a career and planning a life accordingly, were not just classroom activities. They were like a 'safe laboratory' where one could experience the complexity and diversity of life in advance. As these experiences accumulated, children created their own compasses.

This culture of 'safe failure' made me re-examine my deep-seated perfectionism and fear of failure. It was an opportunity to reflect on how results-oriented our education was, and how that influenced our self-formation.

The Fruit of Persistence: From Middle to High School

Another surprising feature I found in American education was witnessing how activities started in middle school blossomed in high school. The growth trajectories of students who had consistently participated in band, dance teams, and sports clubs since middle school were truly astonishing.

This was not merely an improvement in skills but was deeply related to identity formation. The process of a student who first started playing the trumpet in 7th grade becoming the leader of a jazz band in high school was not just an improvement in skill, but a journey of defining themselves through that activity and finding ways to communicate with the world.

Particularly impressive was the culture where one could be recognized for skill and passion regardless of age or grade level. A 9th-grade student could participate in an 11th-grade band club, and early graduation was possible if the necessary requirements were met. This seemed to show the essence of education focused on 'growth' rather than 'time'.

Seeing this, I began to think about the value of 'persistence' that is often overlooked in our education. In the pursuit of quick results and efficiency, we sometimes miss the depth of experience that comes from consistently doing one thing for a long time. But isn't true expertise and self-realization born precisely from such deep experiences?

Higher Education: The Balance of Autonomy and Responsibility

High school is a major turning point for children. It is a time when children themselves, not their parents, must design their lives and carve out their careers.

In the Korean education system, parental and teacher guidance is still emphasized during this period. Suggestions and advice like, "How about trying this?", "This path seems good for you," often greatly influence a child's choices. This is not necessarily bad, but sometimes it can make it difficult for a child to hear their own voice.

In contrast, in American high schools, a child's own choices and responsibilities are emphasized more. Parents act as information providers or advisors, but the ultimate decision and its consequences are the child's. In such a culture, children sometimes make mistakes and go through trial and error, but in that process, they discover their own voice.

Experiencing these differences, I deeply pondered the subtle balance between 'protection' and 'autonomy'. How much should we protect our children, and how much freedom should we give them? The answer to this question will surely lie somewhere between Korea and America.

Between Two Worlds: My Inner Journey

Experiencing two education systems, I not only observed the differences in educational methods but also embarked on a journey of re-examining my deeply rooted values and beliefs. This was often an uncomfortable and challenging process, but it brought about profound growth.

The systematicity, diligence, and achievement-oriented attitude that Korean education gave me are still important assets in my life. At the same time, the free exploration, the value of failure, and the respect for individual pace I found in American education have further enriched my educational perspective.

"What is the essence of education?" On the path I have walked with this question in mind, I am increasingly finding clearer answers. It is a journey that goes beyond the transfer of knowledge or the acquisition of skills, helping a human being discover their own inner compass. Standing at the boundary of two worlds, I have developed an 'and' rather than an 'either/or' mindset. Structure and freedom, achievement and process, protection and autonomy - all of these are not opposing terms, but partners dancing together, complementing and strengthening each other.

Whenever I meet Korean families who have settled in Austin, I want to convey the importance of this inner journey. Experiencing a new education system is not merely a change in external environment, but an opportunity for deep reflection on ourselves and the values we cherish.

Perhaps the most important thing in this journey is the attitude of 'observation without judgment'. When encountering something new, instead of immediately judging it as good or bad, it is to look at what it can teach us with an open mind. And in that process, to pay attention to the subtle changes happening within ourselves.

The journey between two worlds is not easy, but the treasures found within it make our lives richer and wiser. And this treasure will perhaps be the most precious legacy we can pass on to our children.