There is something striking about how learning is approached in Korea. Whether it’s sports, art or even casual reading, the question is not “do you enjoy it” but rather “how good are you at it?” Take tennis for example. When my daughter was looking for tennis lessons, it was surprisingly difficult to find a “normal” instructor. For someone picking up a racket for the very first time, the idea was to try it out, experiment and improve gradually. Yet in Korea, there is often immediate expectation to learn “properly” — from a certified coach, a former national-level player or someone with formal credentials. The idea of casual, imperfect learning can feel almost insufficient. At first glance, this emphasis on quality and expertise seems admirable. After all, Korea is known globally for its high standards and discipline. Yet, somewhere along the way, something important got lost: the joy of learning itself. Learning is inherently a process. It’s messy, inefficient and deeply personal. But in environments that prioritize “elite” standards from the very beginning, le