The Emails Never Stopped Coming
In the weeks before the first day, the emails from school never stopped. A two-page supply list for each of my two kids. Consent forms. Lunch payment instructions. Accounts I had to register for. Every time I checked one more thing off, the same thought crossed my mind: did I actually make the right choice?
There was no time to sit with the doubt. The day after we moved to Jeju, I took both kids straight to the uniform shop inside the school — an appointment I’d booked in advance. We argued over sizes, tried things on, talked them into collars they didn’t love. We only bought summer uniforms, and the total for both kids still came to roughly 700,000 won.
Standing Before the School Emblem
On the first day, watching my two kids smile in front of the school emblem, it finally felt real. We’re actually in Jeju. Our kids are actually going to an international school. And the people I was grateful to made themselves known immediately.
One Lizard, and Seven Mosquito Bite
What I didn’t expect: the American principal was at the gate, greeting every single child by name, chatting with them before they even stepped inside. And they didn’t walk straight into their classrooms. Every morning starts with twenty non-negotiable minutes of outdoor play. My older one took off across the field at full speed, like she’d been waiting all summer to run that far. My younger one came home on day one talking about a friend who’d caught a lizard on the playground, eyes wide with the kind of wonder you can’t fake. The next day, he came home with seven mosquito bites and couldn’t sleep from the itching. When I mentioned it, the teacher just shrugged — “lots of outdoor time will do that.” At his old English-language kindergarten, this would have triggered a parent meeting. Here, it was just Tuesday.
The Kid Who Asked Why Weekends Exist
My older daughter’s school day runs three hours longer than a regular Korean elementary school. I braced for complaints. Instead, she started asking, every single night, if tomorrow could come faster. One Saturday morning she asked me — genuinely wronged, like the weekend had personally inconvenienced her — why weekends even needed to exist. “This is exactly the kind of school I wanted,” she told me, like she’d been waiting her whole short life to say it.
Her skin, once pale from years indoors, is tanned now. She falls more during recess. She doesn’t go to a single hagwon. Her entire day is filled by school alone — and somehow that’s the part that reassures me most.
What I Actually Learned
I used to think a good education meant more input — one more worksheet, one more academy, one more structured hour. Watching my kids here, I’ve started to ask a different question: in a future shared with AI, will the kids who stand out be the ones who passively absorbed the most information — or the ones who built real, first-hand experience? A lizard actually held. A mosquito bite actually earned and survived. A weekend actually missed because school was better.
I don’t know yet if this school will keep every promise it made at orientation. But I hope it’s not the kind of place that proves itself through one polished American open house — I hope it’s the kind of place that proves what it believes through years of consistent, unglamorous daily choices.
Tips for Families Considering an International School Move to Jeju
- Book uniform fittings early. Appointments fill up fast right after move-in season, and sizing takes longer than you’d expect with two kids pulling in different directions.
- Budget separately for uniforms. Summer uniforms alone can run 300,000–400,000 won per child — don’t fold this into your general moving budget.
- Expect an adjustment dip before the excitement. The paperwork and prep feel overwhelming right up until the first morning — that’s normal, not a warning sign.
