When we write a textbook, we want it to be educational so that students can discuss morals and learn valuable lessons. But that does not necessarily mean that a textbook should be overtly didactic or censorious. A textbook should be not only edifying, but also intriguing; it is supposed to be fun to read, witty and humorous.

Unfortunately, Korean textbooks are much too preoccupied with ethics and morality. A few years ago, when I was invited to write a textbook for middle school students, the editor from the publishing company warned me, saying, "The word 'death' is taboo in a textbook. So please don't use it, or our textbook won't be able to pass the governmental screening."

"But what's wrong with 'death?'" I asked. "Death is too grim for middle school students," answered the editor.

Listening to his absurd excuses, I could not help laughing wryly. After all, it was a kind of censorship disguised as morality. They wanted to hide "death" from their children, as if there was no such thing as "death." But wouldn't it be better to let them know about death and accept it as an inevitable process of life?

On another occasion, the screening committee for textbooks did not select a high school textbook simply because it contained Conan Doyle's detective story, "The Adventure of the Three Students." The committee found the detective story too hazardous for students because the plot portrayed a college student attempting to cheat on an exam in order to receive a better grade for a scholarship. But the moral of the story is that one should never cheat under any circumstances.

Literature often transcends conventional morality. In fact, what fun and tension would there be if the protagonist of a literary work strictly acts according to ethics and morality? Sometimes he crosses the line, agonizes, and finally experiences moral awakening. That is what literature is all about. Unfortunately, Korean textbooks, in the name of "educational value," often exclude literature full of priceless wisdom simply because it appears immoral and is, therefore, "inappropriate" for students.

As a lover of literature, I once tried in vain to include O. Henry's "Mammon and the Archer" in a high school textbook. The witty story depicts a rich father Anthony who believes in the power of money, and his romantic son Richard who thinks that money has nothing to do with love. Richard falls in love with a gorgeous girl. But he finds out she is leaving for Paris the next day and he won't have a chance to confess his love. He is scheduled to escort her by cab from Grand Central Station to her family farewell party site on Broadway. But how can he possibly ask for her hand during a few minutes' taxi ride?

Suddenly, when the cab reaches 34th Street, the two find themselves in a huge traffic jam. Stuck there for two hours, Richard has enough time to confess his love to the charming girl. That evening, Richard triumphantly tells his father: "Dad, we're engaged. She has promised to marry me. And oh, Dad, don't ever boast of the power of money again." The next day, a man calls at Anthony's house. "You did a great job, Kelly," says Anthony. "Here's $5,000 in cash."

"I got the cabs and vans mostly for $100 each," says Kelly. "But trucks were more expensive, sir."

Reading this part of the story, my editor immediately opposed, saying, "Bribing people is immoral, professor Kim. It's absolutely inappropriate for a textbook. Besides, the screening committee won't approve of it."

So once again, our students were denied the chance to read this wonderful story and learn the precious wisdom of life. The emphasis of the story was by no means on bribing people. And yet, our moral thought police, perceiving only the superficial, did not hesitate to discard this insightful story that would enlighten our students with everlasting wisdom.

Frustrated, I tried to include Richard Connell's "The Most Dangerous Game" instead. It's an account of a celebrated hunter Rainsford, who, stranded on a desert island, finds himself hunted by a ferocious man hunter named General Zaroff. As a hunter, Rainsford used to say, "Who cares what an animal feels?" For the first time in his life, however, Rainsford understands how it feels to be hunted. "Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and, if needs be, taken by the strong," says Zaroff to Rainsford. "I hunt only the inferior races such as the colored people or mongrels."

My editor also objected to the "most dangerous" idea of including this story in a textbook, saying, "Man-hunting is too gross and immoral for students."

"But this story is about the immorality of man-hunting," I protested, to no avail. "This is a fine text through which we could teach our students the problems of racial prejudice and the survival of the fittest." But I lost the battle again.

Perhaps that is why our society is so bleak and hardhearted, and seriously lacking a sense of humor. Why not teach our students reality, instead of trying to hide it? How long do they think they can hide it under the pretense of moral education?