Every November's third week, South Korea transforms into a massive 'altar of the CSAT.' Air traffic halts, and government office hours are delayed. This solemn scene, where a single exam holds the weight of 12 years of childhood and adolescence, is a unique national rite of passage found nowhere else in the world.
With just a week to go before the 2027 College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT), tension among students and parents is at its peak. This year's exam is the last 'selective CSAT' before a complete overhaul of the college admission system for 2028. Amid predictions of an unprecedented influx of repeat test-takers seeking to avoid the anxiety of the transitional period, another unfamiliar yet symbolic scene has emerged at testing sites.
Education authorities have heightened vigilance against cheating, banning the use of 'AI glasses.' In an era where ultra-small cameras and artificial intelligence can recognize exam questions and whisper solutions in real-time, the absurdity of scrutinizing even the horn-rimmed glasses perched on a student's nose starkly reflects the outdated state of our entrance exam system, which still confines children to a five-choice multiple-choice format from 30 years ago.
How did the CSAT, which has been in place for over 30 years, become such a massive shackle that conflicts with the times? The documentary film 'The Creator of the CSAT: Frankenstein of Korean Education,' unveiled at a press screening on November 10, directly addresses the roots of this contradiction. Park Do-soon, an honorary professor at Korea University and the first head of the Korea Institute for Curriculum and Evaluation, expressed his dismay in front of the camera, stating, "It would be better to abolish such an exam altogether." His confession reflects a tragic lament for a 'Frankenstein' that has spiraled out of control since leaving its creator's hands.
During a press conference following the screening, I asked director Baek Jin-woo who was responsible for transforming the CSAT from its original qualification exam nature into today's 'monster.' He replied, "Initially, I thought reforming the system would solve the issues, but through repeated investigations, I realized that the CSAT ultimately reflects our society's distorted desires, serving as a 'distorted mirror.'" He reflected on how the administrative convenience of universities seeking to easily select students, the bureaucratic tendency of education officials to cling to numbers while evading responsibility, and the elitism of parents who assess individual worth based on their alma mater have combined to turn the CSAT into a ruthless tool of absolute ranking that slices through youth by single points.
Recent discussions led by the National Education Commission regarding the introduction of descriptive and essay questions and 'AI grading' also warrant careful consideration. While the intention to move away from a memorization-based assessment and foster creative thinking, as well as ensure fairness and efficiency in large-scale grading, is positive, as pointed out by Min Se-jin, an economics professor at Dongguk University who appeared in 'The Creator of the CSAT,' the moment AI grading is introduced in the current system, the private education market will immediately devise 'answer generation strategies' that exploit specific keywords and grading algorithms. The only change will be the tool, shifting from analog OMR cards to silicon chips, while the cycle of ranking humans by scores will remain unchanged.
Another participant, Lee Jong-gak, an honorary professor of education at Kangwon National University, also emphasized that what the education authorities should be focusing on now is not a technical overhaul of the exam format but rather a "strategy for exiting exam-centricism." He argued that the current entrance exam system, which sends students scouring the academy scene from dawn to solve CSAT math problems that generative AI can answer in a second, and instills fear in classrooms to monitor the use of AI glasses, is itself anachronistic.
Unless the mindset of the older generation, which feels compelled to push their children into the relentless competition of success, changes, any future-oriented entrance exam reform will only give birth to another monster. As students prepare to sit at their desks for the exam in a week, we must ensure that their test papers do not become a Möbius strip that drains their souls but rather a launching pad toward the future. It is now time for the education authorities and our society to respond. Park Do-soon's poignant self-portrait serves as a mirror of conscience we must hold up to ourselves today.
* This article has been translated by AI.
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