Kim Ye-won
The author is a lawyer at the Disability Rights Law Center.
Ten days have passed since the new school year began. I recently spoke with a lawyer acquaintance who has long handled school violence cases. When I asked whether she was still busy these days, she replied that the number of cases keeps increasing. During the conversation I asked a sudden question: Her own child is in middle school. If her child became involved in a school violence case, how would she respond?
Her answer came without hesitation, and was unexpected. She said she would withdraw her child from school before the situation escalated into a formal school violence case.
I asked why someone who understands the system better than most and has extensive experience responding to such cases would think that way. She answered firmly that she knows too well the suffering a child would endure through the process and would not want her child to go through it. Her words seemed to reveal the stark reality of Korea's school violence system.
More than 20 years have passed since the enactment of the School Violence Prevention Act. The law increased public awareness of school violence. Yet each time a major incident has occurred, lawmakers have responded with partial revisions. As a result, the system has gradually become difficult for schools to manage.

In many ways, schools are turning into small courtrooms. When conflicts between students are reported as school violence cases, procedures begin immediately: investigations, written statements and records. Regardless of the severity of the incident, responses are increasingly shaped by the expectation of possible legal disputes.
Schools must produce extensive documentation, and many cases are transferred to the School Violence Countermeasures Deliberation Committee under local education offices. More than half of reported cases now move beyond the school into external review processes. Appeals are also rising, leading to administrative petitions and lawsuits. Problems that should be resolved in classrooms are turning into legal battles.
A policy that imposes disadvantages in college admissions on students found responsible for school violence adds further pressure. While the policy is often framed as promoting justice, its practical effects can be complicated.
Because records of school violence can directly influence university admissions, cases increasingly revolve around collecting evidence and managing official records rather than pursuing educational solutions. Students accused of violence may choose counter complaints or legal strategies instead of apologies and reconciliation. As the process escalates, the recovery of victims can become secondary.
Schools, meanwhile, face growing complaints and disputes, and teachers feel increasing pressure when intervening in conflicts.
Given this environment, more families now hire lawyers even before reporting school violence. This trend widens the gap in response capabilities. Families with financial resources often consult lawyers early and develop strategies before a case formally begins. They receive detailed advice on how to organize evidence and what statements to provide.
Students from families with less access to information or legal support struggle simply to navigate the complicated procedures. When supporting cases involving children with disabilities or migrant backgrounds the disparity becomes even more apparent. A system designed to protect students can in reality place vulnerable children at a disadvantage.
Schools should not function like courtrooms. Children who are still growing inevitably make mistakes and poor decisions. Violence cannot be justified. Yet the goal of education cannot be limited to punishment alone.
Education should also help students acknowledge wrongdoing, restore relationships and continue growing within their community. The current system is gradually losing that balance. It may be time to reconsider the structure of the scho...