Enterprise Organization of National Program of Excellence in Software

#Tux

If you type the keyword into the search bar on Everytime (SKKU’s student community), you’ll find over thirty posts. Since her first post in 2019, the penguin-profiled nickname Tux has steadily enriched the career choices of her juniors. Tux is none other than Soojin Park (Class of 2014, Department of Computer Science & Engineering). By leaving written “footprints” that her juniors can follow, she has come to be known as the one who leaves behind what she calls “print-marks”—a grateful penguin at Sungkyunkwan University, offering small signposts for students lost in their career worries.

On June 24, 2025, a post titled “My Experience Passing Google’s Hiring Process” appeared on the bulletin board of SKKU’s Natural Sciences Campus. For six years, Tux has been a familiar presence on the Everytime board, where SKKU students share their campus life. Through posts such as “Tips for Undergraduate Researchers,” “Admitted to a PhD Program in Computer Science in the U.S.,” and “One Month at Meta,” she has provided approachable guidance on graduate school, studying abroad, and overseas employment. She has also helped with application consultations and document reviews, consistently standing by her juniors. And now, she has shared the news of her employment at Google. After receiving countless messages of congratulations and gratitude from students, we met with her—now a Google engineer—for an interview in SKKU People Focus, Issue No. 571.

| The post you wrote on SKKU’s Everytime about your final acceptance at Google received a tremendous response. Congratulations on your achievement! Could you share with us how you felt at the moment you received the acceptance call from the recruiter?

Since all of my interviews were conducted one-on-one, I could more or less sense how I was doing through the interviewers’ reactions and the back-and-forth during the sessions. Fortunately, most of the interviews went quite positively, so I was quietly hopeful for a good outcome. When I finally received the offer, the first feeling I had was relief—that everything had come together successfully. The joy of no longer having to prepare for interviews came next. After that, however, my mind quickly grew busy again with upcoming interviews at other companies, salary negotiations, and many other matters. Having spent most of my life within academia until now, I had never really negotiated a salary before, and doing so in English with an experienced recruiter felt like yet another area I needed to study.

▲ 성균관대 에브리타임 자과캠 자유게시판에 올라온 ‘구글 합격 후기’

| Under the name “Tux,” you’ve now written more than 30 posts. What motivated you to keep writing these reflections, and what kind of thoughts or intentions do you put into them when you write?

After entering SKKU, every time I joined a new program supported by the department or saw seniors building impressive careers after graduation, my own goals kept evolving. Since I had received so much help through those experiences, I felt a natural desire to give something back, even if only in a small way.

In high school, the goals were always clear—grades or exam scores—and all I needed to do was give my best within those boundaries. But in college, I realized that simply earning good grades wasn’t enough. I often felt lost, not knowing what kind of goals I should be striving toward, or even what “success” really meant.

What I feared most was not failing after trying hard, but rather missing out on opportunities because I didn’t even know they existed. As a lower-year student, I thought studying abroad had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t until my junior year that I realized such a path even existed, and that was when I began to feel the desire to challenge myself.

Since the Department of Computer Science & Engineering was established in 2011 and I was only part of its fourth cohort, I was the first in my program to prepare for a Ph.D. in the United States. Without much information or precedents from seniors, I often felt anxious—was I pursuing a realistic goal, or was I wasting my energy chasing an impossible dream? At times like that, just having one senior set an example would have made a tremendous difference, both psychologically and practically, as I could follow in their footsteps.

That’s why I wanted to show my juniors that such career paths exist. My hope was that someone reading my posts might think, “Oh, this kind of path is possible too,” and that spark could help them draw their next goal or dream. It was with that motivation that I continued writing and sharing my experiences.

| In February 2019, you posted your first article, “Tips for Starting as an Undergraduate Researcher,” to help your juniors. We’re also curious about your own undergraduate years. What led you to decide to take the path of becoming an undergraduate researcher and eventually pursuing graduate studies?

When I first started as an undergraduate researcher, I was still torn between pursuing graduate studies and going straight into industry. In fact, I was leaning a bit more toward employment at the time. But in our department, it was quite common for students to begin research in their junior year, so I joined a lab almost naturally, without much hesitation—simply because everyone else was doing it.

People around me often said that by the third year, you should begin to figure out what you enjoy and set your career direction. But honestly, I didn’t really know what I liked back then, and I remember feeling quite frustrated about it. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense—how could I have known what I liked when I hadn’t really tried much yet?

Finding what I liked was difficult, but learning to like what I was good at turned out to be easier. After joining the lab, I regularly attended weekly seminars, joined paper study groups, and even wrote papers for domestic conferences. Along the way, I received a lot of encouragement from Ph.D. seniors, and that recognition made research more and more enjoyable. I found myself wanting to improve further, often staying late in the lab to study. Naturally, that led me to the decision: “I should go to graduate school.”

| After graduating from SKKU, you went on to pursue graduate studies at the Georgia Institute of Technology in the United States. During your Ph.D. program in Computer Science, were there any moments when you felt, “I’m really glad I chose this path”?

A Ph.D. program is already a tough journey on its own, but facing it all in a foreign country without any connections was far harsher and more challenging than I had initially imagined or prepared myself for. In fact, I sometimes think that the only reason I was able to take the leap was because I didn’t fully realize just how turbulent the journey of studying abroad for graduate school would be.

Even so, each time I overcame obstacles—big or small—and grew a little stronger, I felt reassured that I had chosen the right path. On a simpler note, my English has become much more comfortable compared to before I went abroad, and I’ve also had the chance to conduct research at several big tech companies like Meta and Microsoft. Those moments made me feel that this path, despite its hardships, was truly worthwhile.

▲ Meta, Microsoft

What I truly appreciated was gaining an area that I could confidently call my field. Being in an environment full of brilliant peers from all around the world—learning from one another, inspiring each other, and building a network—was also one of the greatest assets I gained through studying abroad. When we first entered graduate school, we were all just newcomers struggling together in a foreign country. Now, seeing those same friends become professors at leading universities around the globe or establish themselves at major tech companies feels nothing short of remarkable. In the end, I believe choosing to pursue my Ph.D. in the U.S. gave me far more opportunities and achievements than I could have imagined.

Although I described the journey as turbulent, looking back, I’m grateful that it filled my twenties with such a wide range of experiences. I twice drove across the United States from Atlanta to Seattle, a trip of more than 40 hours each time, and visited over ten national parks. While in Switzerland, I spent summers swimming in lakes and winters sledding down the Alps on weekends. Beyond academic growth, I feel deeply satisfied that my life itself became broader and richer through this journey.

| You also worked as a visiting researcher at Meta in Silicon Valley, the heart of technological innovation and home to the headquarters of the world’s top IT companies. Many developers dream of experiencing that stage at least once—what was it like for you to actually live and work there?

As a computer science major myself, I had always carried a sense of admiration for Silicon Valley. So when I was given the chance to work for seven months as a Visiting Researcher at Meta’s headquarters in Menlo Park, I hesitated briefly—mainly because I worried it might delay my graduation. But my desire to experience it at least once in my life was much stronger, so in the end, I followed where my heart led me.

What struck me first at Meta was, surprisingly, a sense of disparity. Compared to graduate school, the workload was lighter, I never had to stay up all night, and I could maintain a healthy work-life balance. Even when I completed something small, my teammates offered generous praise, and I was paid two to three times more than before. As someone who had always struggled with limited time and money as a graduate student, it felt almost bewildering—was I really allowed to be treated this well? That was my very first impression.

During my time there, I was deeply impressed by how much the company provided for its developers. All three meals were covered, along with unlimited coffee, ice cream, and baked goods. Equipment needed for work could be taken directly from office vending machines with just a badge scan. My flight from Korea to San Francisco was booked in business class, and a dedicated relocation manager helped me with everything from finding housing to shipping my belongings. They even provided tax advisors specialized in both the U.S. and Korea. In 2022, when I was there, there were no restrictions on commuting—100% remote work was possible if you preferred. As long as you attended your meetings, no one interfered with when or where you worked. It left me with a strong impression that the company did everything possible to ensure developers wouldn’t have to spend energy on anything outside their work.

Yet, what I came to feel most strongly in such a well-supported environment was that freedom always comes with responsibility. People often admire Silicon Valley developers for supposedly commuting only two or three times a week, or for working from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., but the absolute workload I experienced was actually heavier than what I had seen in Korea. The difference was that I didn’t need to show a “diligent presence” by sitting at my desk for long hours. In Korea, simply arriving early and leaving late could earn you a reputation for hard work. At Meta, however, if I worked all day from home but couldn’t solve a problem or make progress, it felt as though I had done nothing at all. That period really drove home the lesson that working hard is not the same as working well—and that doing the latter is far more difficult.

| Your first research paper was accepted to OSDI (Operating Systems Design and Implementation), one of the top conferences in the field of computer systems. As it was your very first paper, I imagine it must have been especially meaningful. Could you tell us more about the experience and share your achievement with us?

The paper I wrote in my third year of the Ph.D. program addressed a problem where adding more CPU cores to a high-performance computer no longer improves performance—or can even make it worse. This is a common phenomenon in the systems field, and my research proposed and implemented an operating system–level technique to resolve it. Since papers in systems research generally take longer to produce compared to other areas of computer science, it took quite a while before I was able to achieve my first result, which made me even more attached to this topic.

This paper, however, represents more than just a research accomplishment. Not long after I began my Ph.D., the COVID-19 pandemic swept across the globe. Like many international students, I spent over two years conducting research from home in isolation. I vividly remember the surreal stream of news, the empty supermarket shelves from panic buying, and the long months of anxiety I endured without family nearby. Among us international students, we even called it the “lost two years.” It was a physically and mentally taxing period, but the fact that the work I carried on through those difficult times eventually led to this publication made it all the more meaningful. For the first time since entering graduate school, I felt I could finally shake off the lingering fear of inadequacy that had haunted me. Though the project dragged on much longer than expected—at times turning into a “love-hate topic”—once it was accepted to OSDI, only affection remained.

Presenting it was another milestone: it was my first time on stage at an international conference, in front of a large audience, and I even prepared a live demo. Each time I mentioned “I’ll be doing a live demo,” everyone in the room would respond with an “Oh… good luck!” and worried looks. Thankfully, the presentation went smoothly, and having in-depth conversations about my work with renowned researchers I had only known through papers was far more exhilarating than I had imagined. After three years of ups and downs, slumps, and long stretches of isolation, it felt like being launched upward on a roller coaster all at once. I finally understood why people say research can be so addictive. And one more thing I’m proud of: just last month, at OSDI 2025, I presented another paper as first author.

▲ OSDI 2022

▲ OSDI 2025

| After much deliberation, you ultimately chose industry over academia. In your acceptance post about Google, you mentioned that the reasons behind your decision were too extensive to cover in detail. Could you share more specifically with us here what led you to make that choice?

When making career decisions, I’ve always observed the seniors who walked a few years ahead of me. I especially paid close attention to the choices made by those I found particularly smart and inspiring, and often tried to follow in their footsteps. After entering graduate school, I noticed that many seniors with strong publication records and impressive research achievements became professors. That led me to vaguely assume, “Professorship must be the right path.” Yet, I never found a clear answer as to why it was the right path. It felt like knowing only the “answer” without ever understanding the reasoning behind it. Throughout my five years in the Ph.D. program, I kept asking professors I knew why they had chosen that path, and I tried hard to convince myself of the same reasons—but in the end, I failed to persuade myself.

Worried that I might simply be idealizing industry, I decided to experience it directly and extensively. I interned across a wide variety of environments—Korean industry, U.S. industry, European academia, and U.S. academia. It’s rare for a Ph.D. student to have experienced all of these “categories.” Yet through these experiences, I discovered—somewhat unexpectedly—that industry suited me much better.

For example, I often saw that even after years of effort, papers accepted to top conferences sometimes had little to no real-world use. My own conference presentation videos barely reached a thousand views. By contrast, at companies, even the code I contributed over just a few months was deployed to large-scale servers and impacted countless users. Since my research has focused on performance and efficiency in computer systems, the sheer resources, scale, and tangible impact available in industry felt especially compelling to me.

Another aspect that impressed me was the people. In industry, I got to work alongside Ph.D.s and highly experienced engineers. If I were to become a professor, my collaborators would mostly be students just starting out after their undergraduate studies. For now, I look forward to spending more time working with brilliant peers, learning from them, and growing together. That environment itself is a powerful source of motivation for me.

Of course, I can’t say with certainty that this was the “perfect” choice. Even now, I still wrestle with the question, and who knows what I’ll think in a few years? It’s entirely possible that I’ll feel disappointed or regretful. But since this decision came after years of intense reflection, I’ve chosen to face this path head-on and give it my very best.

| To receive your offer from Google, you went through nearly ten rounds of interviews—from the initial screening to onsite interviews and even team-matching interviews. What kind of mindset helped you endure such a long journey?

I once thought that completing a Ph.D. would mean I’d never have to do coding interviews again—but reality turned out differently. At Google, I still had to solve algorithmic problems like graph traversal and tree search, concepts I hadn’t touched since my early undergraduate years nearly a decade ago. At first, I had to take a moment to come to terms with the fact that “I really have to do this again.”

What struck me was how many Ph.D. students actually don’t dedicate enough time to interview preparation. I often saw people spend over a year writing a paper, but then devote less than a week to preparing for job interviews that would determine their post-graduation careers. I knew I would regret it if I did the same. Even if I didn’t pass, I wanted to be sure I had given my best effort—so that I could be evaluated on my full potential without lingering doubts. That’s why I made a conscious effort to allocate time for interview preparation, just as I would for submitting a paper or preparing for graduation.

Of course, it wasn’t realistic to focus solely on interviews while in a Ph.D. program, so I spread out my preparation over several months, investing weekends and late nights outside of my main work. In the end, the process stretched over more than half a year, from screening to onsite to team-matching. It was exhausting both physically and mentally, but because I had prepared steadily, I was able to showcase my abilities with confidence throughout the entire process.

| Since writing your graduate school acceptance story, you’ve spent six years offering guidance, feedback, and support to more than a hundred juniors at SKKU. Do you have any memorable stories or meaningful episodes with them that you could share with us?

I first wrote my graduate school acceptance story back in 2019, and even now, I still hear regularly from juniors who read that post. I’m always grateful—and a bit amazed—that they continue reaching out. Depending on the time of year, I usually receive messages from three to five students each month, and over the years, I’ve spoken with well over a hundred people. Sometimes it’s just a long Q&A exchange that lasts for one or two conversations, while in other cases I’ve kept in touch for over a year or two, helping someone through their entire preparation process for studying abroad. In fact, a few people who first contacted me as juniors for advice have now become some of my closest friends—I make sure to meet them every time I visit Korea. It’s also amusing to realize that I now have mentees scattered across different states in the U.S.

The question I get asked most often is, “Is it too late for me to study abroad?” But if you’re serious about going overseas, I honestly don’t think age matters much at all. People rarely ask about each other’s age, and everyone comes from such different backgrounds that it’s hard to compare or compete on that basis.

I’ve had so many memorable mentees that it’s difficult to choose just one. But I feel especially drawn to those who remind me of myself a few years back—people with dreams but no clear idea where to begin, who nervously send me long messages not knowing if I’ll reply. I understand that feeling so well, which is why I always want to respond with as much sincerity as possible and help them navigate their uncertainties, even if only a little.

I know that professional consulting services for studying abroad can be quite expensive, so instead, I ask those I advise to leave their own acceptance stories on Everytime in return. It’s a kind of “chain mentoring,” if you will. Their fresh, first-hand experiences are often much more useful than the six-year-old post I wrote. To be honest, when I chose industry over academia, one of the hardest parts of that decision was realizing I would miss this kind of mentoring. I truly enjoy being part of someone’s growth, cheering them on, and sharing advice when needed. Even though I’m moving on from the lab to a new environment, I hope to continue mentoring in various ways whenever I get the chance.

| Since your appearance on *SBS News, this is your first time greeting the public again through an official platform. Could you share a message for the juniors who look up to you as a role model and hope to pursue opportunities abroad?

*Soojin Park appeared on SBS News in 2021, introduced as “SKKU’s human printer” for her remarkably precise handwriting.

▲ 스브스뉴스 출연 영상(이미지 클릭)

I have to admit, my appearance on SBS News was on a topic completely unrelated to research or career, so it felt a bit embarrassing. That’s why I’m glad to be able to greet you again here with a more serious story. Since coming abroad in 2019, I often shared bits of my life on Everytime whenever I felt lonely in a foreign country. To now be featured in the university webzine as I wrap up graduate school feels especially meaningful and rewarding.

For those considering studying or working abroad, I want to say this: there will certainly be difficult moments, but the journey will also bring you diverse experiences and profound growth. And to end on a light note—come to graduate school… you won’t regret it!