Meet the minds behind little Seoul in Minnesota

What’s the best way to learn Korean? Binge-watching K-dramas? Singing along to K-pop? Hanging out with a Korean friend? While these might help, nothing quite compares to living in Korea, where the language surrounds you 24/7.

But for Americans who can’t pack up and move halfway across the world, there’s Sup sogui Hosu — a Korean language village in the middle of Minnesota that offers the next best thing.

Part of Concordia Language Villages, Sup sogui Hosu is more than just a camp — it’s a full-scale immersion experience, where American students can step into daily life in Korea without ever leaving the US.

Here, English is off-limits. Every interaction — from ordering food at a restaurant to grocery shopping to casual conversations — happens in Korean.

“It’s 24/7 — you’re all living together, eating together, sleeping together,” said Ross King, the founder of Sup sogui Hosu, in an interview with The Korea Herald on Feb. 21.

King, a professor of Korean language and literature at the University of British Columbia, was joined in the conversation by Dafna Zur, the camp’s current dean and a professor of Korean literature at Stanford University, and Christine Schulze, executive director of Concordia Language Villages.

The three spoke about how full immersion transforms language learning for the camp’s "villagers."

Zur, in particular, has firsthand experience with the power of immersion.

“I learned Korean in Korea and the way I learned effectively was by being surrounded by Korean language speakers and not having things translated for me into English,” she said. “I didn't have any language teaching training but it was very clear that the most effective way to learn a language is to be fully immersed. And that is replicated in our summer program.”

The camp’s setting fosters an organic learning environment, Schulze explained.

“There’s a lot of fun activities — being at the waterfront, playing soccer — and suddenly they’re playing in Korean. There’s just a lot of immersion through doing things, hearing the language all around them, and they start slowly picking up words by the end.”

What sets Sup sogui Hosu apart from other language programs, King noted, is its residential aspect. Unlike a typical classroom setting where exposure to the language is limited to a few hours a day, the camp offers a 24/7 linguistic and cultural experience.

Beyond its immersive nature, the program also boasts a high staff-to-student ratio — one Korean-speaking staff member for every four villagers.

But language learning is only part of the picture.

The leaders of Sup sogui Hosu see the program as something much larger — a long-term investment in Korea’s global future. Zur described it as “building the next generation of friends of Korea.”

“You know, the next generation of people who will go into business, health care, diplomacy — anything, really,” she said. “We have the chance to build that next generation of bridge builders.”

However, sustaining and expanding such programs requires substantial backing — an area where support from Korean companies and government institutions has been limited, especially in comparison to similar efforts by other countries.

King pointed to Japan as an example, noting that it has systematically funded overseas language and cultural programs for decades.

In 1972, Japan established the Japan Foundation, which made substantial financial contributions to American universities, including $1 million in gifts to 10 universities in its first year alone.

“In today’s dollars? That’s $7 million. Is the Korea Foundation making $7 million gifts today? No,” he said. “Japan did this systematically for 25 years until the 1990s.”

With global interest in Korean language learning on the rise, King argues that now is the time for Korea to make similar commitments.

“In general, enrollment at all of the language villages mirrors the enrollment trends across the United States at the postsecondary level. All languages have been declining over the last 10 years — except Korean.”

Why, then, have Korean conglomerates been reluctant to support such initiatives?

King pointed to several factors, including a historical reluctance to openly associate their brands with Korea.

“So many consumers outside of Korea don’t know that Samsung is a Korean company; they don’t know that LG is a Korean company. And I think the companies have deliberately hidden that,” he said. “But I think that’s starting to change.”

There is also a deeper cultural hesitation, he suggested.

“It’s a really strange mix of superiority and inferiority,” King said. “There’s this idea of ‘Let’s promote the excellence of Korean and Hangeul,’ but at the same time, they’re not willing to spend money on it because they don’t assign enough value to their own culture.”

Additionally, systemic barriers make it difficult for Korean corporations to donate money overseas.

Unlike Japanese companies, which have long-established mechanisms for cultural investment, Korean firms face administrative challenges that hinder international funding, King stressed.

King cited Kenny Park, CEO of Seoul-based luxury handbag manufacturer Simone Corp., as a rare exception. In 2018, Park donated $5 million to Concordia Language Villages — the largest known contribution of its kind.

“And there are no comparable donations to date,” King said. “If you think about it from the perspective of the Republic of Korea, that’s kind of an embarrassing statistic because he’s literally in a class of his own.”

Even that donation, King noted, was not easy. Bureaucratic red tape delayed the process for nearly a year.

“During that time, he could have earned probably $50,000-$60,000 in interest if he had just kept the money himself,” he said.

As Korea’s global influence grows, the question remains: Will it invest in its linguistic future abroad or leave that effort to individuals like King, Zur, and Schulze?

“If Koreans are really serious about sharing their culture and their language with people outside of Korea, they need to solve this problem,” King said.