I spent too much time practicing a one-minute introduction

That awkward silence in front of the mirror

I remember standing in my bedroom, staring at a wall while trying to record my one-minute introduction on my phone for the third time that night. It was supposed to be easy, just a quick summary of why I wanted to study at a 4-year university. But somehow, every version I spat out sounded like a robot reading a tax form. I kept trying to sound passionate while secretly wishing I could just be done with the whole application process. I had looked up ‘1-minute introduction examples’ online, but every single one felt like it belonged to a person who had never actually existed in the real world. I was worried that if I didn’t sound professional enough, I’d be dismissed before I even opened my mouth. It felt like I was auditioning for a role I didn’t even fully understand yet.

Paying for feedback on things I should have known

Around that time, I heard about these consulting programs. Some places, like the ones that offer mock interviews or specialized portfolio coaching, can cost upwards of a million won if you’re looking at full packages at places like All That Beauty Academy. I didn’t spend that much, but I did sign up for a few sessions at a local center that offered free, or at least subsidized, guidance. It was mostly helpful for realizing that my posture was weird, but I spent a lot of time waiting in the lobby. The sessions felt a bit disjointed; one consultant would tell me to emphasize my academic performance, while another would tell me to focus on my extracurriculars. It left me wondering if anyone actually knew the ‘secret’ to getting in, or if we were all just guessing based on previous years’ data.

The reality of mock interviews

Mock interviews are strange. You sit across from someone who is supposed to act like a stern professor, and suddenly your brain goes completely empty. I remember sitting in a chair at a community-run program, clutching my folder, trying to remember the talking points I had memorized that morning. The interviewer asked me a question about why I chose that specific school, and I gave a answer that felt so rehearsed it actually made me cringe while I was saying it. They didn’t really react, which I suppose is the point, but it was disheartening. I walked out of that building in Ansan feeling like I had just performed a bad skit. It wasn’t that the advice was bad—it was just that the pressure of the environment made me feel less like a student and more like a candidate being processed.

Trying to plan a future at fifteen or sixteen

Looking back, I wonder if the obsession with ‘specialized consulting’ for students as young as middle schoolers is actually doing any good or just adding more weight to their shoulders. I saw flyers for programs that start as early as sixth grade. It feels a bit excessive, honestly. I remember being that age, and the idea of ‘career direction’ was basically just whatever I saw on YouTube that week. Now, kids are being funneled into these rigorous tracks, focusing on student records and interview coaching before they’ve even finished puberty. It’s hard to tell if the extra prep actually changes the outcome or if it just burns them out before they reach the actual 4-year university environment they’re fighting so hard to get into.

Why I stopped rehearsing so much

Eventually, I just stopped over-polishing. I realized that the interviews where I felt most ‘prepared’ were actually the ones where I performed the worst because I sounded so stiff. I ended up going with a version that was just… me. It wasn’t perfect, and I probably stumbled over a few words when I finally got to the real thing, but it was honest. There’s no magic trick. Whether you pay for professional help or just practice in your room, the nervousness is always going to be there. I’m still not entirely sure if the preparation helped me get in or if I just got lucky with a sympathetic interviewer, but at least I’m not standing in front of my bedroom mirror reciting scripts anymore.