Vancouver, Wash. identical twin brothers headed to Harvard

At summer's end, Seungsoo and Seungjun Kim will depart east Vancouver, Wash., for a whole new realm.

Gone will be their mirror-image dark bangs and eyeglasses. The wide smiles and easy laughter, often over an inside joke or shared secret. The way one ends a sentence the other starts, without skipping a beat.

The frequent sight of the pair bent over a table, working a daunting math or science problem together, two brains blazing as one: a sibling supercomputer.

The identical twin brothers, 17 and seniors at Mountain View High School, are headed to Harvard University after heavy recruiting by the nation's top schools. They hope to pursue biochemistry and neuroscience at the highest levels: molecular and cellular biology, regeneration and stem-cell research-type stuff.

Their decision, reached only last week, capped a frenetic spring that saw them courted also by Princeton, Yale, MIT, Stanford and Cal Tech.

Yes, they're that good.

It's a tale of dedication and discipline, years spent breaking down complex equations and story problems. But it's also more than an Asian-American stereotype of hard-driving academic success, more than any self-centered achievement.

It's a story of freedom and of love. Of the pair largely crafting their own education. And nailing it.

"The way we do everything is to enjoy it," Seungjun says. "That's the only way you can do your best work to get passionate about it and fully absorb what you're doing. There's no other way."

'Seung' means 'victory'

Perhaps the Kims' keen interest in biology, math and medicine was destined: Their journey began in intensive care. The boys were born in South Korea in July 1991, a month premature. They spent time in incubators in Anyang, near Seoul, before heading home to Inch'on, a port city on the Yellow Sea.

Seungsoo was born first. But Seungjun was the first cleared to go home.

In Korean, "Seung" (pronounced "sung") means "victory," the boys would learn. They were the pride of their father, Euisong, who spent a decade in research and development for manufacturing giant Samsung; and their mother, Youngsoon, who taught ninth-grade level math at a middle school.

The boys idolized Euisong.

"We would copy our father on everything," Seungjun recalls. They tried on his pants and his socks. He would read classic literature, such as "The Old Man and the Sea," and so would the twins. He was right-handed, and so left-handed Seungjun aped that, too, even with his chopsticks. That ambidexterity helps his snare drum playing in the Mountain View band, he notes.

Youngsoon, passionate about math and chemistry and physics, would slip the boys extra lessons. But life was not easy. She worked six days a week; so did Euisong, often until midnight.

Then came a chance for Euisong to pursue a doctoral degree in materials science at the University of Pittsburgh. The family left Korea just before the boys started first grade. They have only once since visited their homeland and relatives there, they say.

The Kims enjoyed America, touring when possible. They stopped for photos at Harvard outside Boston one day, when the twins were third-graders. "I think they saw just a famous landmark" and not a future target, Seungjun says now.

Euisong had planned to return to Korea, but the family reached a crossroads. He would settle for a master's degree; the Korean currency had tanked. And Seungsoo needed the first of three surgeries to correct an inner ear problem.

A family vote ensued, and the twins got their way. "We told them we wanted to stay," mostly because here their mother could stay at home, Seungjun says.

By autumn 2000, Euisong took a troubleshooting job at WaferTech in Camas.

The twins landed in a highly capable grade-school classroom at Image Elementary School, where they met classmate Tim Lau. "I thought they were pretty cool kids. You know, what everyone else thinks - twins!" he says, laughing.

That fascination would wear thin. "This is really stupid. In elementary school, we had a thing, voting on who was smartest in fifth grade, voting on 'the next Einstein,' " Lau says. "I was really, really jealous that I did not get that award."

Instead, Seungjun won.

"I was jealous of all the things they could do. I wanted to be them," Lau says.

'They knew everything'

Evergreen school district teachers saw amazing talent and wisely stepped aside.

"I told them I thought we were holding them back," says Alison Nightingale, a Mountain View biology teacher.

In their freshman year, she quickly set the twins up for independent study. They breezed through school - straight A's, highest possible scores on all 14 Advanced Placement exams apiece, and counting. Together, relentlessly, they probed the Internet for research material and projects, at college level and beyond.

"It was clear they knew everything I had to offer, anyway," Nightingale says. "There's something innate that allows them to make the deep connections that I don't see in other people. It took me 20 years (teaching biology) to get there, and they seem to get it, all the way."

At Shahala Middle School, Todd Parsons had taught the Kims advanced math and watched them soar to "just at an unbelievable level," he says. They entered and thrived in national, even international contests.

"Those are truly two students you only come across once in a lifetime," Parsons says.

At school or inside their Fisher's Landing home - in a shared bedroom, college posters hang over side-by-side study desks with matching Gateway computers - Seungsoo and Seungjun indulge their desire to learn.

Results are evident in the knot of medals and ribbons hung from four large hooks, the plaques mounted in the stairwell, a White House photo of Seungsoo after he competed with the U.S. International Biology Olympiad team in India last year.

Clearly Euisong and Youngsoon, who speak almost exclusively Korean at home, take great pride in their children's prowess. Seungsoo credits Youngsoon for constantly nurturing their gift.

"She kind of let us free to think and explore on our own," he says. True, there always were supplemental puzzles and problem-solving exercises she would find for them. But the choice to work was theirs, he says.

Ask the boys about "downtime" or relaxing, and nothing concrete emerges. Seungsoo "kind of likes solving Rubik's Cubes," he says. Not just standard 3-by-3 panel cubes, but more challenging 4-by-4 or 5-by-5 models. Seungjun says he might practice new drumstick tricks.

Just for fun, the two might play some familiar music, usually classical, on the family piano.

Not your standard teen fare. But, listen to Lau, 18, who remains among the Kims' closest friends. As a Chinese-American with a brother at Stanford, Lau bears similar pressure at home to shine, he says. He also knows the twins might play a little golf, catch a movie, goof around a bit in band, the same as anyone else.

Their favorite diversion is what truly sets them apart.

"I think a true, genuine love of learning drives them. There's no way you could accomplish (all) that without a genuine love," Lau says.

"Why would you need downtime if you're already doing what you love? Stuff that would seem boring to us you can see it, to them, they're fascinated.

"They just love learning how this world works."

Red Cross volunteers

The Kims have not isolated themselves.

Beyond the accolades, the perfect SAT scores, the regional and state and even national wins in Math Bowl, Science Bowl, Science Olympiad, Knowledge Bowl and other brainy triumphs, peers and friends see healthy social skills and social conscience.

Both have served in national American Red Cross youth efforts, attending conferences to ponder huge issues. They collared their Spanish teacher at Mountain View - yes, they aced the AP Spanish Literature exam, too - to be adviser to a start-up campus Red Cross chapter. They've visited Burnt Bridge Elementary School to teach youngsters first aid.

Each lists a personal hero.

Seungsoo offers Eric S. Lander, world leader of the International Human Genome Project and head of MIT's genome research institute, recently named science adviser for President Obama. It follows that Seungsoo is focused on high-level biology studies and genetic research.

Seungjun admires Peter L. Slavin, M.D., Massachusetts General Hospital president and instructor and Harvard Medical School health care policy professor, he says, "for going into internal medicine, doing something for the public good, not just the money."

Seungjun hopes to make a similar impact, he says. "I'd like to take that management leadership role to help revolutionize health care."

That's the macro view. At Mountain View, others have been touched by the boys' simple acts of kindness - thoughtful gifts during an illness, efforts to help less-gifted schoolmates. Longtime friend Lau says it didn't dawn on him until high school "how nice they are," he says.

"These guys are really well-rounded," says Nightingale, the biology teacher. Her request that they help tutor schoolmates evolved into a new biology club. "They realized they like teaching other kids."

Lau sees how some might be put off by the Kims' intimidating grasp. Or, that they set the curve too high in class. But not for long. "They just tend to win people over. They inspire people to keep going," Lau says. He counts himself, tackling tough math classes and placement tests he might not have braved.

Not that the twins aren't human: Friends and teachers laugh over an exploding bottle in a school microwave. A lost hotel room key during a competition final. A customs glitch at the U.S.-Canada border. Pop culture cues missed.

"I bet any popular song, they wouldn't know," Lau says.

Public school products

At one point, a potent scholarship might have steered the Kims to a private middle school, but it fell through. Today, they're happy with their route through Image Elementary, Shahala and Mountain View.

"I think the fact we went to public school made us more independent," Seungjun says. "There wasn't someone helping us, coaching us on everything, so we had to look at more opportunities."

That's going to change at Harvard, where world-class mentors abound.

By their second year, however, each brother expects to design a personalized degree program. They already realize that their paths will finally diverge: different dorms, classes and labs, after nearly two decades of sharing nearly everything.

"We'll still be close, but it'll be different. Harvard has more than 2,000 courses; we don't have to take the same ones," Seungjun says, smiling at the notion. "You have more experiences; it's really exciting to see people doing different things."

Will they feel pressure to stand out on a bigger stage? No, the Kims answer. Only more freedom, in daring to fail - and so, continuing to learn.

"I think if you tone down your pride and open yourself to asking questions, there's so much out there," Seungjun says.

"The most fun for me," Seungsoo says, "after hours of work, is noticing the progress that I made. Just gaining experience and knowledge and skill." His forte has long been diving straight into solving brain-rattling equations.

Seungjun prefers to survey the big picture, locate the piece that unlocks the puzzle.

"Sometimes it's about looking at a problem the other way. A different perspective," Seungjun says. "Then it all seems so simple, afterward. That's kind of the 'Eureka' moment."

Revealing a bit more of the universe, he adds: "The elegance of it all, how it works out."

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Information from: The Columbian, http://www.columbian.com