[Reporter’s Notebook] Village Disappears as Closed Schools Are Neglected... People Sinking into Helplessness

Closed schools have typically been regarded as places destined to be neglected. Numerous stories associated with closed schools attest to this perception. There are accounts of closed schools in remote locations, students entering these now-secretive spaces, adults watching them with uneasy eyes, and even mysterious urban legends with unknown origins. Some stories claim that human remains have been discovered after long periods of abandonment. These tales suggest that it is nearly impossible to live near a closed school, and even if one does, significant hardship must be endured.

However, people still live around closed schools, enduring the gradual disappearance of their villages with their entire beings. "It's just frustrating," said Mr. Yoo (60, male), whom I met at the Maseok Furniture Complex in Namyangju, Gyeonggi Province, on March 26. He spent ten minutes voicing his complaints, unable to muster a smile. He lives near the Nokkot Branch of Maseok Elementary School, which has been closed?a place he likens to a "broken window." This metaphor is not an exaggeration. In reality, not a single window in the buildings near the Nokkot Branch remains intact, and the interiors are completely empty. For him, the pain is ultimately about making a living. He runs a grocery store, but there are no crowds of customers in a neighborhood that is slowly disappearing. He is soon to be displaced due to redevelopment, but he has nowhere else to go.

This is not just Mr. Yoo's story. Regardless of whether they live in urban or rural areas, people residing near closed schools are suffering from the consequences of these "broken windows." They worry that their neighborhoods, where they have settled, might vanish along with the closed schools. Even Seoul, a massive city with a population exceeding nine million, has no effective solution to the problem of closed schools. The pace of population aging in these areas is much faster than elsewhere.

For those living with this reality, anxiety and helplessness have become routine. They feel abandoned by the state that decided to close the schools. Ms. Lee (70, female), who runs a snack shop near the site of the closed Deoksu High School in Seongdong-gu, Seoul, worries about the now-empty neighborhood as the students have disappeared, and she constantly clutches her Bible. She said, "I miss the students who used to eat tteokbokki and chat before night study sessions." Mr. Yoo, unable to pay his rent and watching his deposit dwindle, is even taking antidepressants. For people who feel abandoned, the only sources of solace are religion and medication.

The fundamental cause of school closures is the decline in the number of students. There are pessimistic voices questioning how closures due to a shrinking school-age population can possibly be prevented. Currently, there are around 4,000 closed schools nationwide. This number is expected to rise. Provincial and metropolitan offices of education are seeking ways to lease or repurpose these schools, but successful cases are rare.

Nevertheless, hope must be sought. Closed schools that have been successfully repurposed share some common factors: proactive local governments and residents, flexible use of regulations, and virtuous cycles created by contributing to the community. The closure of a school does not simply mean the disappearance of one institution; it signifies the decline of an entire region. Before a school is closed, discussions about creating cultural spaces or dormitories should take place. This year, amendments to the Enforcement Decree of the Public Property and Commodity Management Act have come into effect. Regional revitalization investment funds for the efficient use of closed school sites owned by local education offices must also be promoted more actively.