Imagine leaving the vibrant chaos of South Africa behind for the neon-lit streets of Seoul, chasing dreams of financial stability and personal growth—only to confront a whirlwind of cultural shocks and the nagging pull of homesickness. This is the reality for many South African educators venturing to South Korea, a journey filled with promise but laced with real-world hurdles.
Teaching in South Korea has become an increasingly popular path for South African professionals seeking to elevate their careers. These individuals are drawn by the allure of higher salaries, a notably secure environment, and enhanced job security, which starkly contrast with the challenges back home. Yet, as they immerse themselves in this dynamic Asian nation, they often grapple with hurdles like adapting to unfamiliar traditions and the deep emotional ache of being far from loved ones.
But here's where it gets controversial—incidents that shake families back home and question just how safe this 'safe' haven really is. Recently, a disturbing event highlighted the risks involved. A former teacher from Durban found herself unreachable by her South African relatives after her mobile phone was stolen in Seoul's Itaewon district. The Reaction Unit South Africa (RUSA) issued an urgent alert when unknown individuals answered calls during a routine family check-in, sparking widespread concern. Fortunately, she was located unharmed and explained the situation as a theft. The educator, who had moved from Pietermaritzburg in June to instruct English at Chungdam School in South Korea, became the focal point of this unsettling episode. In response, several South African instructors shared their firsthand accounts with The POST, shedding light on the highs and lows of life abroad.
Take Kyle Pillay, a 28-year-old originally from Tongaat, who relocated to South Korea in 2022. Now residing in Bucheon and educating at Francis Parker Collegiate, Pillay's story is one of resilience and self-discovery. 'I sought out this move to foster my independence and ensure my safety,' he explains. 'Growing up in an Indian household, I was quite protected, but sometimes, the best route to true autonomy is stepping beyond your country's borders.'
Pillay describes his affection for Korea, where he's grown immensely as a person. The nation offers superior safety measures, lucrative teaching compensation compared to South Africa, plus added bonuses like complimentary housing and health coverage. However, this wasn't his inaugural attempt at living there. In 2020, he ventured to Korea but returned abruptly after his mother's passing just three months in, leaving a trail of painful memories.
And this is the part most people miss—the profound emotional layers that turn a job opportunity into a journey of healing. Driven by an inner calling, Pillay returned to redefine his experiences there, refusing to let his mother's death taint his association with the country. While offered his previous role, which would have displaced another, the situation deteriorated quickly. 'That school was the worst I've encountered,' he recounts. 'My supervisor was terrible, swindling me financially, assigning a filthy, roach-infested apartment littered with someone else's items. Still, I persevered, earning my freedom and eventually rising to head teacher.'
Yet, Pillay warns of significant cultural obstacles in Korea. 'The initial year proves toughest, not due to overt prejudice, but sheer cultural unfamiliarity. As a highly uniform society, Koreans aren't accustomed to diverse foreigners, particularly those with darker complexions.' To newcomers, this might sound daunting, but it's often just about patience and education—gradually bridging gaps through mutual respect and learning. Pillay maintains regular contact with his family and friends, phoning home once or twice monthly. 'My loved ones fret, but they recognize my maturity and Korea's reputation for security. Our Indian families tend to worry excessively anyway,' he notes with a chuckle.
Another educator, 25-year-old Preann Govender, embarked on her Korean adventure in 2024 to teach English. 'A key motivator was my employer's financial struggles in South Africa, leading to layoffs. I seized it as a chance for transformation,' she shares. 'I selected Korea partly because relatives had lived there for two years, giving me a head start. When applying, it seemed ideal for launching my teaching career.'
She navigated the EPIK program—a government initiative that supports English teaching in Korea—while still in South Africa, with the application process spanning several months. Acceptance led to paperwork finalization, and so far, her stint has been rewarding. 'Challenges have been minimal, resulting in a pleasant, seamless transition,' she says. Last year in a countryside locale, she now calls one of her province's major urban centers home.
A typical workday for Govender, an English instructor, varies by institution. Previously handling two schools, she now manages three: two mobile setups and one primary one. Her mornings feature around five classes, followed by lesson prep and future planning. 'What I cherish most is Korea's sense of security—strolling city streets or commuting solo without constant vigilance,' she enthuses. The primary difficulty? Language barriers. Although some Koreans speak English, lacking Korean fluency complicates daily interactions and tasks. For beginners curious about this, think of it as learning basic phrases like greetings or food orders to ease navigation—small steps that build confidence.
Govender stays connected with family back home, calling her parents daily and extended relatives weekly, plus friends at least once a week. 'Thanks to social media and messaging, it's effortless. I avoid gaps longer than a week,' she explains. 'While worry lingers for my family—distance always does—they're comforted by my self-reliance and the country's safety, bolstered by my local support network.'
Looking ahead, Govender plans to extend her stay for another year and potentially longer, though she's eager to explore and perhaps reside in another nation soon. 'It's all about balancing growth here with worldly adventures,' she reflects.
Jamie Trevor Moodley also pursued South Korea for enhanced prospects. 'Scarce government teaching vacancies in South Africa pushed me overseas; I'd always envisioned international work,' he states. 'The application was straightforward. I've adored instructing here—far superior to South Africa, with better schools, students, and facilities. Safety and ease abound, though language divides persist. My area hosts about five South African teachers within a 5-kilometer radius, fostering a tight-knit community.'
He connects with family via social platforms and apps, acknowledging the strain. 'It's tough for them, but they grasp improved job options abroad. Eventually, I'll relocate elsewhere, guided by market trends and visa rules—ideally to an English-dominant nation,' Moodley adds.
Clifford Smith, co-owner of Gold Key Education—a longstanding South African agency specializing in teacher placements—emphasizes Korea's safety. 'Ranking among the world's safest, Korea has seen zero issues from the 3,000 educators we've placed historically. We urge basic prudence.'
He advises sticking with familiar groups, especially other expatriates, and maintaining family ties—free Wi-Fi is ubiquitous, so no excuses for going silent. 'Teachers bring phones from South Africa for easy communication,' Smith notes. 'They also pair with local co-teachers; share those contacts with family and new acquaintances for backup. If unreachable, relatives can alert friends directly.'
But is relying on agencies the ultimate safeguard, or does it mask underlying vulnerabilities? Critics might argue that while agencies provide support, they can't eliminate all risks in a foreign land. Smith recommends agency applications for direct assistance in crises. Korea's healthcare excels, and E2 visa holders gain medical benefits, ensuring prompt care.
As these stories illustrate, the decision to teach in South Korea blends excitement with caution. It's a testament to human adaptability, yet it prompts reflection: Is the pursuit of better pay and safety worth the cultural leaps and emotional tolls? What do you think—have these teachers' experiences changed your views on expatriate life, or do you see room for more protections in such ventures? Share your thoughts in the comments; let's discuss whether this trend is a bold leap forward or a gamble with hidden costs.
