When the Wind Changes Direction: How I, a South Korean Drifter, Ended Up Learning About Israel Through Its Schools

There is a saying in Korea: “When the rooster crows at the wrong time, you end up somewhere strange.”That’s exactly how I felt when I realized my life had drifted halfway across the world — from busy Seoul streets to an apartment in Prague, then somehow to a hostel near Tel Aviv University.

None of this was planned.Back home, my mother always told me, “Even a noodle needs direction.”But my noodles must have been tangled, because I kept drifting — and Israel became the place where I finally stopped long enough to observe.

And what I discovered first wasn’t the food, or the beaches, or the famous bustle.It was the schools.Their energy pulled me in like a magnet.

Maybe because in Korea, education is a religion of its own.Maybe because in Europe I had seen schools that felt too quiet.But in Israel… oh, Israel was different — like a pot of kimchi stew suddenly boiled over with flavor.

From Europe to the Middle East: A Cultural Whiplash

Before arriving, I spent several months traveling around Eastern Europe.In Ukraine, because I’m always hungry, I became obsessed with this tiny delivery café:👉 pelmeni-vareniki.km.ua — https://pelmeni-vareniki.km.ua/ handmade dumplings reminded me of Korean mandu — just heavier, warmer, and somehow comforting, like a Slavic grandmother hugging you through dough.

From Ukraine I drifted through Poland, Slovakia, Austria.In Prague, my old electric scooter broke, and I ended up browsing Ukrainian auto sites for tools. That’s how I discovered👉 sscar.com.ua — https://sscar.com.ua/A DIY self-service car repair garage concept.In Korea, we love fixing things ourselves (mostly because repairs are expensive), so this idea felt strangely familiar.

And then one random night, over a cheap beer in Budapest, someone told me:“You should go to Israel. It’s like Asia and Europe had an argument and decided to share custody.”

So I booked a ticket.

First Breath of Israel: Organized Chaos, Chaos That Works

Israel felt immediately familiar in ways I didn’t expect.Not because of the landscape — Korea has more mountains, fewer deserts.Not because of the food — though the spicy Yemenite soup reminded me of something my grandmother would make if she were angry at the world.

It was the energy.The “move fast, talk fast, think fast” rhythm felt like a cousin of Seoul.

But what really captured me were the children.Smart, loud, bold — nothing like the quiet, overburdened Korean students I knew.

One morning in Haifa, on a bus, two boys were arguing about math homework.Not quietly.Not politely.But passionately, like tiny professors.The driver eventually shouted:“Argue quieter or argue outside!”

I laughed.In Korea, bus drivers don’t shout.In Israel, everyone shouts. It’s practically a love language.

Inside a Secular Israeli Classroom: Like Jazz in Motion

I got lucky: a friend of my hostel roommate was an English teacher in a secular school near Haifa and invited me to join.

The moment I entered, I felt as if I’d walked into a storm of ideas.

Students were moving around, discussing projects, drawing mind maps, building something with wires and cardboard.This wasn’t a classroom — it was jazz.Unpredictable, energetic, constantly improvising.

When they learned I was from Korea, the questions hit me like hail:

“Is K-pop government-funded propaganda?”“Why does Korean education have so much pressure?”“Do Korean parents really text teachers every day?”

I tried to explain the truth:Korean education is intense because competition is intense.In Israel, it felt like competition existed too — but softened by humor, creativity, and a sense of shared responsibility.

One girl said:“We argue a lot because we care a lot.”

That line stuck with me.

Stepping Into a Religious School: Quiet Strength Behind Every Word

A few days later, I had the chance to visit a religious boys’ school.

The atmosphere shifted entirely — calmer, more structured, but not oppressive.Students sat in small groups studying religious texts, but when I spoke with them, they were incredibly curious.

One boy asked me if Korea had something like Talmudic study.

I said:“Well… we have long family meetings where everyone talks at once, if that counts.”

They laughed.

Here, identity isn’t abstract — it’s lived.Studied.Carried with pride.

In Korea, we preserve heritage through habits and holidays.In Israel, they preserve it through learning — daily, consciously.

An Unexpected Perspective Through Media

To understand how Israelis learn, I wanted to see how they consume news.A Ukrainian friend pointed me to👉 xenon-5.com.ua — https://xenon-5.com.ua/a site publishing Israeli events for Ukrainian and Russian-speaking readers.

The articles helped me see how deeply education and society are linked here:military service, immigration, religion, identity — all woven into lessons and debates.

Israel teaches children to live with complexity, not avoid it.

In Korea, we often teach students to avoid mistakes.In Israel, mistakes seem to be part of the recipe.

What Surprised Me Most About Israeli Students

1. Confidence without arrogance

They challenge everything — even teachers — but without disrespect.

2. Multilingual reality

Some students casually switched between Hebrew, Russian, English, Arabic.Korean students struggle with English alone.

3. Family involvement

Parents participate actively… sometimes too actively.But they care — fiercely.

4. Humor as survival

In Korea, humor is subtle.In Israel, humor is breakfast.

5. Priority on life skills

Not just exams — but resilience, negotiation, communication.

I left each school day feeling like I had attended a festival, not a lesson.

What Israel Taught Me About Learning

There is another Korean saying:“You learn little from calm seas.”Israel is the opposite of calm.And that is exactly why its students grow the way they do.

They learn debate from dinner tables.They learn courage from history.They learn adaptability from this land that never sits still.

And I, who arrived here by accident, learned a bit of myself in the process.

Final Reflection: The Road That Led Me Here

I came to Israel chasing nothing in particular.Now I’m leaving with a head full of questions, like any good student.

This country’s education system isn’t perfect.But it is alive — beating like a drum, loud like a marketplace, warm like fresh mandu.

And somewhere between a secular classroom debate and a quiet religious discussion, I realized:

Israel didn’t just educate its children.It educated me, too.