A scene from the Netflix series “Teach You a Lesson”NETFLIX
Toshiaki Sasao
The author is a professor emeritus of Psychology, Education, and Peace Studies at the International Christian University, Tokyo.
The Korean drama “Teach You a Lesson” is hardly subtle. It imagines a government-backed bureau entering schools where bullying, parental pressure, violence, and collapsed authority have overwhelmed ordinary procedures. Part school drama and part action fantasy, it appeals to viewers who want someone to walk into a broken classroom and restore order.
That appeal should make us pause. The drama resonates because it touches a real anxiety in Korean society: Schools often seem unable to protect students, support teachers or deal fairly with parents. Yet the wrong lesson would be that schools simply need tougher punishment. The deeper problem is the erosion of trust among teachers, students, parents, administrators and the wider community.
Korea’s crisis is highly visible. Teachers have protested malicious complaints, unrealistic parental demands and legal vulnerability. Ordinary guidance can quickly become an accusation. Parents, anxious about their children’s futures, may intervene aggressively. Students face intense academic pressure, bullying, exclusion and fear of failure.
Each group has legitimate concerns. Teachers fear abandonment. Parents fear their children will be harmed or left behind. Students fear humiliation and isolation. Administrators fear scandal, while politicians fear public anger. When fear becomes the main language of schooling, trust disappears. Schools begin to resemble conflict zones with lesson plans.
Japan’s crisis is quieter but no less serious. Warning signs include teacher overwork, mental health leave, staff shortages, paperwork, parental harassment and a culture that expects teachers to endure rather than object. A school may look orderly while teachers inside are exhausted. A classroom may appear peaceful because everyone has learned to remain silent. Korea’s crisis is loud, while Japan’s is muted. But both are dangerous.
Community psychology offers a different way to understand the problem. The issue is not simply whether teachers need more authority or students need more rights. Both require protection and a voice. Schools are social ecosystems shaped by families, peer groups, leadership, local communities, laws, labor conditions, media and national culture. When those layers fail, the individual teacher becomes society’s shock absorber.
Teachers are expected to absorb parental anxiety, student distress, inequality, bureaucratic pressure, technological change and public anger. We call this professionalism. Too often, it is abandonment disguised as dedication.
What should change?
First, individual teachers should not face parental complaints alone. Parents need fair channels for raising concerns, but complaints should be handled by trained teams rather than becoming endless pressure on one teacher.
Second, teacher well-being must become an organizational responsibility. When many teachers are exhausted, the problem is not personal weakness but institutional design. Schools need realistic workloads, protected time, peer consultation, mental-health support and leaders who understand that protecting teachers also protects students.
Third, bullying requires more than punishment. Firm intervention is sometimes necessary, but fear cannot repair a school. Bullying develops in peer cultures, silent classrooms, anxious families and institutions that respond too late. Counseling, restorative practices, peer support and consistent adult supervision must begin before harm becomes spectacular.
Fourth, parents should be treated neither as enemies nor as customers. The customer model of education is poisonous: Teachers become service workers, children become products, and schools become complaint counters. Parents need meaningful participation and clear boundaries.
Finally, schools need communities beyond the school gate. Retired teachers, counselors, universities, youth workers, civic groups and faith communities can reduce school isolation. We should not romanticize the past, but one old truth remains: Children are not raised by institutions alone.
The popularity of “Teach You a Lesson” shows that frustration with weak responses is genuine. But heroic outsiders cannot discipline schools into becoming communities. Silence is not trust, and control is not belonging.
Korea and Japan face the same question: How can high-pressure education systems become humane again? The answer will not come from punishment, nostalgia or technology alone. It will require rebuilding the ecology around schools: protected teachers, heard students, responsible parents, fair procedures and communities willing to share responsibility.
A society that cannot protect its teachers will eventually fail its students. But a society that protects teachers by ignoring students will fail as well. Korea and Japan both need something stronger and wiser: Schools where authority, care, and accountability are rebuilt together.
Toshiaki Sasao is a community psychologist and Professor Emeritus of Psychology, Education and Peace Studies at International Christian University in Tokyo. As a community psychologist, his work focuses on community well-being, aging, social connectedness and resilience in Japan and across Asia. His opinion essays have appeared in The Japan Times, Taipei Times, UCA News and Ryukyu Shimpo, among other publications.
