엄친아 And Its Implications on Korean Students
The Korean term ‘엄친아’ (eom-chin-a), a portmanteau of the words ‘엄마’ (eomma, meaning mother), ‘친구’ (chingu, meaning friend), and ‘아들’ (ahdul, meaning son), denotes a unique societal phenomenon in South Korea. The term, meaning ‘mother’s friend’s son,’ is colloquially used to describe a child who is perceived as the epitome of Korean parental expectations. However, this archetype represents more than academic and professional success; it symbolizes a standard against which parents often compare their own children. The implications of this comparison extend far beyond individual achievement, weaving through the fabric of family and community relationships and influencing how parents view their children, how children perceive themselves, and how they interact with each other. This phenomenon, while seeming to foster a culture of excellence, subtly strains the delicate threads of familial and social bonds, reshaping the way individuals interact within the broader Korean societal context.
‘엄친아’ as a word is widely considered to be satirical in Korean culture and is rarely considered outside of its ironic context. However, the more dramatic consequence of the term is subtle and is only revealed when focusing on how the word manifests itself in social dynamics. For example, it’s not uncommon for a Korean mother to compare their child to their friend’s child. Often, the other child will have perfect grades, be exceptionally athletic and, of course, obey their mother. But no matter what qualities the child has, one constant is ever-present. You can never compete with ‘엄친아’. Your mother's friend will always be better than you, and through understanding this, two interesting complications come to mind. One, how does this affect the way children perceive themselves and the relationship between them and their mother? And beyond that, what does this implication mean for the mothers themselves?
As for how ‘엄친아’ affects the relationships between children, the impact is multifaceted but primarily manifests in the way it shapes their self-perception and interpersonal dynamics. As they say, the comparison is the thief of joy, and no idiom is more apt in this scenario. The Korean education system, easily one of the most over-reported aspects of Korean society, remains a hallmark of Korean pride. From a young age, Korean children are pushed to chase academic excellence, which leads to the country being so educationally adept that they often “outperform most industrialized countries” academically. Therefore it would be intuitive to imagine that the children hold great pride in their academic prowess, and subsequently would have a more positive attitude towards learning. Yet, this is far from the truth, with data suggesting that American students, while generally having much lower standardized scores, have a “more positive attitude towards school,” and ironically, a “more positively perceived responsibility for learning.” But how is this possible? How can it be that the society that statistically does so well academically actually comes to dislike the educational process more than the society that doesn’t? In this nuance is where the flaws of ‘엄친아’ are revealed. As stated in the International Journal of Educational Research, “The driving force behind the child’s education is the Korean mother who monitors homework, attendance, and private tutoring.” As a result of this, Korean children and their success are tied to the family’s honor, and since the two are so closely intertwined, shame and guilt are often motivating factors for the children. In return for the mother working tirelessly to keep her children on track, the students feel the need to return the favor, reducing the relationship between mother and child to something almost transactional, while simultaneously making the educational process a source of self-worth in the eyes of the children.
But what does this mean for the mothers themselves? It would be wrong to blame the mother for the stress and social damage that’s inflicted on the student. Just like the student has pressure from ‘above’ via the mother and her expectations, the moms themselves face a similar pressure to push their children from society and, ironically, other moms. As I previously mentioned, a high standard of education is a source of great pride for Koreans, and it’s because of this that parents feel compelled to monitor homework or sign their children up for private tutoring. If the mother doesn’t do so, she faces the consequences of society labeling her a bad parent. And it's not hard to imagine what it would be like to be in that mother’s shoes: the fear of being perceived as a negligent parent if their child does not meet these high standards, while also realizing that, if they do so, may inadvertently be robbing them of a carefree and balanced childhood. And so is the internal conflict that many Korean mothers grapple with. Do you give in to the external pressure and perceived responsibility of a mother and risk your child's happiness? Or do you let your child be, and face the societal consequences? After considering how mothers themselves play into this pressure, it’s no surprise that most parents tend to choose the former. If you’ve ever seen the inside of a Korean mom group chat you’ll know the composition of most texts is something like 50% gossip and mom-talk, while the other 50% is talking about their children’s achievements. Their SAT score, their accolades on the sports field, or what university they got into. And while this seems harmless, it only serves to perpetuate the already stifling pressure that both the mothers and children face. In this group chat is where ‘엄친아’ actually comes into existence. Korean mothers will only ever talk about the good their children do, and why wouldn’t they? As a result of every subtly boastful message sent in the group chat, every mother will inadvertently compare that child to their own. With all the knowledge of their children’s mishaps and only the knowledge of the ‘엄친아’s achievements, it’s easy to see how some mothers can feel as if their efforts have been inadequate, leading to parents only pushing their children more, saying things like ‘her son did it, why can’t you?’
Ultimately, the concept of ‘엄친아’ in Korean society is a complex phenomenon that goes beyond the simple comparison of children’s achievements. It fosters a unique societal archetype, one that simultaneously promotes a culture of excellence, while inadvertently creating a cycle of pressure between mother and child alike. Children, in their pursuit of living up to the ‘엄친아’ standard, experience a compromised sense of self-worth via the seemingly transactional relationship between themselves and their parents. For mothers, the situation is equally nuanced. Caught between the societal narrative that equates a child’s academic success to their competence as a parent, they face the daunting task of balancing their child’s wellbeing, with the societal expectations stemming from Korean culture and other moms.