We study 12 hours consecutively in academies after school, crammed into a room to rote memorize vocabs, and our faces become distraught and pale of tiredness and exhaustion. There is no time to eat dinner, and for long hours, we are forced to play instruments we dislike. With no time to socialize, we are isolated from friends and our only “friend” became the calculator or the thousand pages of homework. Some feeble students faint in the middle of class and their dark circles underneath their eyes are eminent. Despite all these details you may have heard about Korean education and parenting, they are all merely one tiny aspect of the true story.
                                  

My life as one of these over achieving students in Korea is different. Sure, having a tiger parent isn’t the most lenient life. I can’t attend many parties or sleepovers, go to the movies in the weekend and do a lot of things that teenagers my age enjoy doing. I do spend most of my time in classes, but they aren’t soul sucking as commonly thought, and can be engaging and worthwhile for my future. I still have the time to talk to my friends in school, and I’m not cut off from people around me because of the academic responsibilities I fulfill as a growing student. Of course there are moments when I dread the time in academies, when I heave that cumbersome viola case down the streets to an archaic studio to glide my bow against the creaky viola.  I still remember my beads of sweat rolling down the sides of my forehead, and the austere viola teacher roaring at me with her sharp-pitched voice that every note is wrong. “Fix that flat note! No the other one! The F’s too sharp now! Start focusing,” the teacher would constantly snap at me, and I would roll my eyes in annoyance. Her shrieks would bounce off the walls and rattle my eardrums. My bow would strike against the viola strings to make a discordant noise, and the time never seemed to pass.
                                                  

However, it is a contortion of the truth that I collapse out of weakness and there are only exceptions in which students faint of depression or stress. It’s not as bad as you thought it was as a Korean student in the busy streets of Gangnam, Seoul. Despite some exclusive parents who do overwork their children, all extremes are bad, so we cannot conclude that tiger parents are harmful just because of some who are radical. It might not look it due to exaggerations of what tiger parents force us to you, but tiger parents are still moms who care about their children and show their love by pushing them into new experiences.
                                                  

My mom was the one who pushed me into finding passion in Spanish, and exposing my literal language talent. She was the one who helped me improve my communication globally in another fascinating language of another culture, and the one who made me aware of such beautiful languages besides Korean and English.

                                                

We often question the virtue of tiger parenting, and what such competitive Korean culture can do for our children in contempt. But tiger moms do help us – me, succeed as a student who has to live in raging competition in math and science in Korea. Tiger parents aren’t there to make us miserable from birth, but to nurture us and adapt us into the harsh reality of unmerciful competition. We can’t criticize Korean moms who try to teach their children the value of diligence, and finding a spot in the academic field.  If we think about it, tiger parents are the one who cares most about our failures and successes, challenges, new experiences, and exposures to new subjects and talents to grow. If we can dig little bit deeper into the insights of tiger parents, we should be able to understand why they do push students like they do today.
                                              

If I had no tiger mom, I couldn’t be as sophisticated or capable to reach the academic level that I am in now. “I can’t go to the math hagwon today because.... (insert random excuse here)” I would constantly whine to my mom. But then she would retort back, “ If you miss the academy today, you’ll be behind all the other students,” and I would then drag myself to academy in defeat. That time, I thought it was unreasonable for my mom to be inconsiderate but now I realize the reason behind her challenges. She wants me to be better, to improve, and to responsibly work harder to improve my skill because she loves me unconditionally.
                                              

Now, I don’t really think about the hagwons I have to go on that specific day or the busy schedule that I am jostled into. It’s as if the Korean education system has ingrained itself as a natural instinct. During break times or transition times, I could have the time to myself by relaxing and text my friends in between classes to maintain my social life as well. Of course my story doesn’t apply to every other student in Korea, but the ones that are displayed in media is an exaggeration and a downgrading of the benefits earned by tiger moms.  We all say that 14-year-old adolescents like me have to live in a free schedule, get some fresh air, and socialize. But tiger parents are simply pushing myself to be a diligent person, to teach me the virtue of internal challenge and the accomplishments of working hard- even if it means some sacrifice. You can’t have both lax happiness and accomplishment at the same time.