Restarting Korean Lessons: A Lesson in Listening and Creativity

Restarting Korean Lessons: A Lesson in Listening and Creativity

Recently, I restarted Korean lessons with my child. It wasn’t a lighthearted decision—it came with a heavy heart. Due to personal circumstances, we had taken a break for about a year, and now I found myself in the position of teaching my child directly.

Then, something truly shocking happened. I discovered that despite nearly two years of regular schooling, my child had never learned one of the most basic and essential principles of the Korean writing system. I was stunned. What had my child actually been learning all this time?

Looking back, I do remember feeling a quiet sense of doubt. I had been faithfully taking my child to school, but something always felt off. Now I finally understood what that feeling meant.
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Korean is a unique language in many ways. Unlike most writing systems that evolved gradually over centuries through oral traditions and cultural shifts, the Korean alphabet—Hangul—was intentionally and systematically created in a short period of time.

​After discovering a gap in my child's Korean learning, I revisited the basics of Hangul and realized the importance of listening in education. A personal reflection on language, structure, and teaching with empathy.

Hangul was invented in the 15th century by King Sejong the Great and a group of scholars from the Hall of Worthies (Jiphyeonjeon). What’s even more astonishing is that it wasn’t just a linguistic achievement—it was an act of compassion. At the time, the ruling elite in Korea used Classical Chinese to write, a complex and difficult system inaccessible to the common people. King Sejong wanted to change that.

He envisioned a writing system that anyone—even those without formal education—could learn and use to express themselves. That’s why Hangul is designed with such clarity, logic, and scientific structure. The consonants are modeled after the shape of the mouth and vocal organs used to produce the sound, while the vowels are based on a philosophical concept called “Cheonjiin” (Heaven, Earth, and Human), symbolizing the harmony of the universe.

It’s a writing system so elegant and logical that even a three-year-old can pick it up in a matter of days—if taught correctly.

To my dismay, my child had never been taught these principles. Once I introduced them myself, using a phonics-based learning kit, my child grasped the alphabet within just a few hours. It was amazing—and heartbreaking. What, then, had all those school lessons been for?

This experience taught me an even bigger lesson: the importance of listening.

In Korean education, as in many hierarchical cultures, communication often flows from the top down. Leaders speak, others listen. Even if someone at the bottom has a brilliant idea or useful insight, if those at the top say no, it simply doesn’t happen. I’ve seen this pattern too often, and I know many others have spoken about it—but change has been slow.

Through this experience, I’ve come to realize how crucial it is to truly listen. Listening is not just about hearing words—it’s about respect. It’s about responding with attention and empathy, especially when it comes to children. In education, listening to the learner’s perspective, struggles, and curiosity is what allows true learning to happen.

This journey has reminded me that teaching Hangul is not just about memorizing letters. It’s about connecting history, science, structure, and empathy. It’s about teaching in a way that is creative, responsive, and human.
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Restarting Korean lessons with my child wasn’t just an educational task. It was a wake-up call—a moment to reflect on what it means to teach, to learn, and most importantly, to listen.