My Trip to the Dentist and Meeting the "Eastern Tiger"

A few years ago my dentist told me that I grind my teeth at night (while I am sleeping) so I should get a special mouth guard so that I don't grind my teeth down totally. I wasn't totally convinced that I was grinding my teeth but there was some evidence of excessive wear so I took the plunge and had a mouth guard made for myself. Three weeks ago, just a few days after my wisdom tooth removal, I woke up to find a rather large chunk of one of my lower molars broken off. Even with my mouth guard in place I was able to break my tooth. Since that fateful night, I've visited the dentist at least 6 more times to get my tooth fixed because it required endodontic (root canal) treatment. Except for the $300 crown, most of my visits cost about the same as my taxi ride to and from the dentist at between 4-8 dollars. I have a bit more work to get done so I'll try to get as much as possible before I return home.

On an unrelated topic, I met an interesting man at the gym yesterday. He came up to me while I was lifting weights and introduced himself. His name is Dong-ho, which means "east tiger". I was surprised as he was as tall as me and quite broad in the shoulders, not the shape of a typical Korean man, and had a childlike face. He told me that he was formerly a health trainer and showed me some exercises that he recommended. After showing me the excercises, he told me about himself and I was drawn in by his innocent face and sad tale. His story goes something like this:

Growing up he was the best student in his middle school and became one of the best high school students in Gunsan. This unfortunately wasn't enough to get into SNU, Seoul National University, (the top university in Korea) so he studied at private institutes for the next 12 years trying to perform well enough on the once-a-year university entrance exam to get into Seoul University. At 29 years old he finally gave up trying to go to SNU and went to Gunsan University while working as a trainer at a health club. He was planning to be an English teacher so he studied English literature, but quit after only one year of university. Now he is 37 years old and (from what I could understand from his faltering English) is working in a patent office.

There was something compelling about Dong-ho's story. Here was a tall, strong, confident man who was burdened by failure. He was among the best students during his school life, but would then be crushed year after year by the ultra-competetive university entrance exam. In Korea, there is only one path to success and it goes like this: 1.) be one of the best students through all levels of school, 2.) excel on the university entrance exam, 3.) attend Seoul National, Korea, or Yonsei University (commonly known as the SKY trio of top universities, 4.) ride your prestigious degree and related contacts to a job as a doctor, judge, school principal, or professor. If you do not succeed in any of these areas, you must try again as many times as possible until you succeed, or accept your failure and move on. Thus, Dong-ho, like over 99% of Koreans, has had to move on and accept that he is a failure by Korean societal standards. In this society your value as a person is tightly connected to your ability to obtain one of the few but highly sought after occupations. The sad part of Dong-ho's story is that it is not atypical. Thousands of young people each year study for and take the university entrance exam for the second, third or fifth time with the hope that someday their families and society will think them successful.