My enrollment in the Yonsei MBA program wasn’t entirely my own choice. At the time, our CEO pushed me forward, asking why I was hesitating when such a great opportunity had presented itself. The company covered 100% of my salary during the program and counted the education hours as full-time work. Looking back, it was a substantial investment on their part. Although I started the journey with a gentle push from behind, the weight on my shoulders was very real.
On the first day, we were briefed on the rigorous curriculum: eight hours of intense training every single day for the next six months. The final evaluation was strictly numbers-driven: monthly exams (60%), team projects (30%), and an English proficiency test (10%). Looking around the room at the highly talented peers from various industries, I knew this would be a fierce competition.
During lunch, I stepped outside and walked up a small, quiet hill next to the business school building. Looking down at the campus, a sudden thought struck me. Since the company is investing in me, and I’ve been given this rare privilege to focus entirely on learning, I cannot just coast through. Right there, on that hill, I set a definitive goal for myself: “Finish first.”
Several participants had majored in business administration. My own background was public administration. It wasn’t an insurmountable disadvantage, but it was enough to make one thing clear: I could not win by competing on theory alone.
If I wanted to finish first, I would have to rely on what I already had—years of practical experience, disciplined execution, and a strategy I could follow consistently.
Once the goal was set, the strategy immediately followed. I broke down the numbers. I aimed to stay within the top 5 for the monthly exams to maintain a steady pace, since they held the highest weight. For the team projects, the target was absolute: 1st place. Combined with the English proficiency component—an area I was already confident in—I knew the math was in my favor.
A month later, the first results came in. I ranked 3rd. Having studied relentlessly, I expected a decent result, but seeing it on paper brought a different level of satisfaction. More importantly, it validated my strategy. From then on, I simply executed the plan. My exam scores consistently and firmly stayed within the top 5.
The real turning point, however, was the team project. When our team gathered to discuss the direction, brilliant ideas started flying across the table. It was a room full of elites, and the proposals were intellectually stunning—yet somewhat detached from reality.
I took a different stance. “The ultimate purpose of this program is real-world application. Instead of chasing flawless theories, let’s build our project around the actual, raw operational experiences we’ve lived through in the field.” Fortunately, the team agreed. We built our entire strategy on grounded, practical execution rather than academic textbook formulas.
On the day of the final presentation, standing before corporate executives and business professors, the tension in the room was palpable. We had given it everything, but the outcome was impossible to guarantee. When the results were announced, our team took 1st place. It was a victory of practical, field-tested reality over pure theory. Soon after, the final language evaluations were completed, bringing the six-month marathon to an end.
At the graduation ceremony, academic honors were awarded only to the top three. A subtle tension filled the hall. The student who had consistently ranked 1st in written exams finished 3rd overall. One of my teammates took 2nd. And I was awarded 1st.
Graduating at the top of the class was deeply rewarding. But the far more valuable takeaway was the conviction it left me with: no matter how high a goal appears, if you design a precise strategy and execute it with quiet, relentless consistency, it can be achieved.
The resolution I made on that small hill became one of the most unshakable principles of my life.