Your Toddler Might Be Late—for College Prep in South Korea

The Joseon Dynasty’s Educational Déjà Vu

Scene 1: Joseon Dynasty, 1545.
A toddler, barely out of diapers, is strapped to his nanny’s back. He’s not babbling—he’s reciting Confucian classics. His father, a nobleman, whispers: “Suffer now, reign later.” The goal? Acing the Gwageo, the notoriously difficult civil service exam—the golden ticket to wealth, power, and family glory. Prep often started around age 5, with 12-hour study days.

Scene 2: Seoul, Daechi-dong District, 2025.
A three-year-old wakes up to English nursery rhymes carefully chosen to maximize her language skills. Her day includes phonics drills, swimming lessons for physical development, math worksheets, Korean reading practice, and intense preparation for a prestigious English kindergarten entrance exam. Her mother scrolls obsessively through online parent forums, swapping strategies and murmuring, “Your future self will thank us for these sacrifices.”

South Koreas educational time loop Jiwon Yoon

Welcome to South Korea’s educational time loop—where the ghost of 16th-century academic rigor haunts 21st-century kindergarten admissions. The pressure hasn’t vanished; it’s just swapped silk robes for designer kids’ wear and Confucian texts for English workbooks.

As one Joseon statesman, Lee Yoon-kyung, lamented back in 1545: “Parents teach infants to chase fame and salary before they can walk… Only exam rankings matter.” (It’s found in the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty (Joseon Wangjo Sillok), Injong Sillok, entry dated April 15th, 1st year of reign.)

Sound familiar? It should. Welcome to the era of the “Seven-Year-Old Gosi” (Seven-Year-Old Exam, 7세고시).


Daechi-dong: Korea’s Educational Pressure Cooker

To fully grasp this, let’s first decode Daechi-dong.

Picture the most concentrated hub of academic ambition you can imagine, then multiply it by ten. This district in Seoul isn’t just a center for private education; it’s the epicenter—the Silicon Valley of studying.

Why Daechi-dong?

The Instructor Elite:

As one top Daechi-dong instructor writes in This Is How Daechi-dong Kids Study (대치동 아이들은 이렇게 공부합니다), the area boasts over 1,600 registered private academies (hagwons, 학원). Fierce competition creates an educational ecosystem where only the best survive—instructors who can deliver results, possess exceptional teaching skills, and even develop their own proprietary materials. Parents flock here because they believe they can find the perfect, battle-tested instructor for their child among this elite pool.

The Ecosystem of Achievement:

Daechi-dong is surrounded by some of Korea’s highest-performing high schools (both public and private, like Gyeonggi High, Whimoon High, Sookmyung Girls’ High, etc.). This creates a powerful feedback loop: top schools demand top students, pushing nearby hagwons to teach at incredibly high levels to prepare them. The presence of so many high-achieving peers also provides intense motivation (or pressure, depending on your perspective) for the students themselves.

This high-octane environment is where the educational arms race begins… practically in the cradle.


The Cradle-to-Classroom Pipeline: Meet the “4-Year-Old Gosi”

Forget carefree toddler days. In Daechi-dong, life gets serious around age 3.

Now, hold on—we’re talking about the Korean age system here. In Korea, babies are considered one year old at birth, counting their time in the womb. That means these “three-year-olds” are actually just around 24 months old—diving headfirst into intense academic preparations.

Quick note: Throughout this series, I’ll stick to the Korean age system since I’m directly referencing terms like the “4-Year-Old Gosi” (4세 고시) and “7-Year-Old Gosi” (7세 고시). So, if you’re trying to follow along in international ages, just subtract about one year each time. Confusing, isn’t it? Sorry—I know. Even I get confused.

Why start so young?

Because they need to start prepping for the entrance exams for elite English kindergartens, commonly known as yeong-yu (영유, short for 영어유치원). These aren’t your average finger-painting joints; they’re immersive English environments seen as the first crucial step on the ladder to top universities.

The entrance tests for these yeong-yu, which typically start at age 5, are held when the child is 4. The competition is so fierce and the stakes perceived as so high that people jokingly (or not so jokingly) call this the “4-Year-Old Gosi” (4세 고시). (Again, this exam is taken at age 4 in the Korean age system—which is actually 3 years old in international age.)

What does Gosi (고시) mean?

Traditionally, it refers to high-stakes state examinations like the bar, medical licensing, or the old civil service exams (Gwageo). Applying it to 4-year-olds highlights the absurd intensity.


Getting into a Top Yeong-yu Requires Strategic Planning Worthy of a Military Campaign

Early Bird Gets the Worm:
Parents enroll their toddlers into specialized preparatory hagwons by age three. Waiting until the official test season (around October) is too late.

High-Demand Tutors:
Alternatively, parents might hire specialized private tutors who boast high acceptance rates. These tutors can command fees exceeding those for high school tutoring and often have months-long waiting lists.

The “Seonggol (성골)” Track:
According to the book Daechi-dong Story (대치동 이야기), the crème de la crème pathway starts even earlier. Some parents fight tooth-and-nail (and click-finger) to get their kids into Appletree Kindergarten from as young as 20 months.

Why? Because Appletree is seen as a feeder school for the even more exclusive Gate Kindergarten, which accepts only a handful of 4-year-olds who score in the top 5% on a specific giftedness test (the GT Test, costing around ₩150,000 or ~$110 USD just to take) and pass Gate’s own rigorous level test. Getting into Gate is the “4-Year-Old Gosi.”

The Gate level test involves an English interview (basic self-intro, weather, shapes, etc.) with a native speaker and a writing test (writing the alphabet correctly on lined paper, writing simple English words).

The Appletree enrollment itself is a “fastest finger first” online scramble that fills up in seconds. Success means instantly wiring the hefty entrance fee—before someone else grabs the spot.

Kids who complete this Appletree → Gate track are sometimes referred to as “Seonggol” (성골)—a term borrowed from the ancient Silla Dynasty’s “sacred bone” highest rank of nobility. It signifies the absolute elite within the Daechi-dong hierarchy.


The Price Tag: This Level of Early Education Doesn’t Come Cheap

As of December 2023, the average monthly fee for an English Kindergarten in Seoul was around ₩1.42 million ($1,050 USD).

Elite Daechi-dong options are pricier. Appletree costs about ₩1.76 million ($1,300 USD) per month including the bus (as of 2024). Another nearby charges ₩1.87 million (~$1,380 USD) including lunch, plus separate fees for uniforms (₩500k / ~$370) and materials (₩400k / ~$295).

Crucial Context for International Readers:

While these figures might seem comparable to expensive daycare in places like the US, remember this: standard Korean-language kindergartens (which also teach some English) are essentially free in Korea (including lunch!). Parents choosing the English kindergarten route are opting into a significant financial commitment for the perceived competitive edge.

In Daechi-dong Simulation (대치동 시뮬레이션), a book written by a mother with firsthand experience navigating the Daechi-dong education system, she notes that there are hardly any Korean-language kindergartens in the area. As a result, for many parents, sending their children to English kindergartens may not be a preference, but a perceived necessity.

Despite the cost and the shrinking school-age population, English kindergartens are booming. The number of these institutions nationwide grew by 37% in just five years, from 615 in 2019 to 842 in 2023.


The Main Event: The Notorious “Seven-Year-Old Gosi” (Seven-Year-Old Exam)

Surviving the 4-Year-Old Gosi and graduating from an English kindergarten program (typically leaving kids with the English proficiency of a US 2nd grader) isn’t the finish line. It’s just the qualifier for the next hurdle: the “Seven-Year-Old Exam” (7세 고시).

This isn’t an official government test, but rather the hyper-competitive entrance exams for elite after-school English academies in Daechi-dong, often dubbed the “Big 3” or “Big 5.” Getting into one of these is seen as essential for maintaining the English advantage gained in English kindergarten and setting the stage for elite middle school, high school, and ultimately, university admissions. The English kindergarten itself is often framed as merely preparation for this test.

How hard is it?
A recent KBS TV documentary (Tracking 60 Minutes: The 7-Year-Old Gosi, Who Is It For?shed light on the phenomenon:

  • Content: Tests often involve reading comprehension based on US elementary school textbooks (like Journeys, sometimes up to Grade 3 level), grammar, vocabulary, essay writing, and an English interview.
  • Difficulty: The reading passages can be comparable in complexity to Korea’s notoriously difficult college entrance exam (Suneung) or even harder. University students (native Koreans from top universities like Seoul National University) who attempted the test questions found them “not easy,” comparing the level to middle or high school material and expressing disbelief that they were intended for 6- or 7-year-olds.
  • Preparation: Much of the preparation involves rote learning and memorization, particularly for the essay sections, where children often memorize pre-fabricated answers.

Scenes outside popular Daechi-dong academies on test days resemble rock concerts, with crowds of anxious parents and children lining up from early morning.


Beyond the Bubble: The Nationwide Spread

Think this is just a crazy Seoul phenomenon?

Think again. The KBS report highlighted that the “7-Year-Old Gosi” culture, once centered in Daechi-dong, is now spreading to other major cities across Korea, like Busan and Gwangju. It’s becoming a nationwide chase—a relentless cycle where prepping for lower-level tests leads directly into prepping for the next, even higher-stakes test, starting from age 3 or 4.


So, here we are. From Confucian scholars memorizing texts on their nannies’ backs to toddlers drilling phonics for kindergarten interviews, the pressure cooker of Korean education seems locked in a centuries-long cycle.

But let’s pause for a moment—because not all Korean parents are raising their children this way.
Many are increasingly aware of the toll such early academic pressure can take—and are actively choosing alternative paths.

The same Tracking 60 Minutes documentary mentioned earlier, for instance, also showcased counter-narratives: figures known as ‘private education experts’ ultimately leaving the Daechi-dong pressure cooker for other regions, and parents consciously opting for parenting centered on travel and diverse experiences over intensive private tutoring (hagwons).

Nevertheless, the trend of extreme early education described here is undeniably significant and spreading. Its intensity has reached a point where it is widely discussed as a pressing social issue in Korea, which is precisely why this article delves into it in such detail.

Understanding this dominant trend is important, even while acknowledging that alternatives exist.


This naturally raises some burning questions:

Why? Why are Korean parents pouring fortunes and immense pressure into English education at such incredibly young ages?
And perhaps more importantly—are the kids alright? What is the actual impact of this relentless academic race on childhood development and well-being?

In upcoming posts, I’ll first explore the academic path following the infamous Seven-Year-Old Exam, shedding light on why this early English obsession is perceived as so crucial.

Following that, I’ll delve into the societal anxieties that may be fueling this educational fever.

Finally—and perhaps over several installments—I’ll tackle the critical question: How do the children themselves cope with such immense academic pressure?

Stay tuned—your future self might thank you for the insight.


This article refers to the following sources:

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