The most important lesson

The much-anticipated 2 March 2012 came, and went by in a flash. It may be just a simple process of collecting the results of a past examination, but it is itself a test (and an important one indeed).

Receiving congratulations from teachers and friends for results that are not satisfactory in my eyes is difficult. I tried to find reasons for not achieving distinctions in General Paper and Pharmaceutical Chemistry. Maybe I was unlucky and the options for the GP essay were not what I’ve prepared. Maybe I was mentally exhausted for the H3 Chemistry paper after the gruelling morning paper. Maybe my handwriting wasn’t legible. Maybes and more maybes floated in my mind, but they didn’t and wouldn’t change a thing. True, analysing where we’ve gone wrong is important, but even more crucially we have to accept failure and accept things that don’t go right as part of our lives. Like what a PTI in camp told me, it is the imperfections in us that make us perfect.

My philosophy towards learning has not wavered because of this disappointing episode. To me, the end result, no matter how brilliant it is, will not be justified unless the process of achieving it is just as colourful and fulfilling as the result. The biggest takeaway from 12 years of education has not been the distinctions I have accumulated over the years, but rather the cultivation of the love for learning. I am proud to say that I have left school as a fulfilled learner, and I hope everyone around me can say the same. After the hype has ended and after the dust has settled, we will be forging ahead with a tougher character. At that point, what will propel us forward is not the A level result slip, but the appreciation for the learning process which we have nurtured in school.

Ultimately, the result slip is a mere stepping stone to the next phase of our lives. It is not a guarantee for a smooth journey in university, much less a guarantee for success in life. I asked myself: Has this episode in my life affected what I can contribute to society? Not at all. I did not question my reasoning or writing abilities just because I didn’t score a distinction in GP. My love for learning has not decreased a single bit despite the disappointment in my A level results. I still wish to mentor students and spread the love for learning.

Calculus and Newton’s laws may be the content tested on paper, but the true final test is a test of character, and our ability to deal with successes and failures. I wish all reading this nothing but the very best in all future pursuits.

What message are you sending to yourself?

An unexamined life is not worth living, neither is one that is full of examinations. At least that was what I used to believe. However, recently, the purpose of examinations appeared in a totally different light to me. As what Mr Cheng said, “Examinations are an important part of life”. If you believe in fate, exams are a pre-determined stage of life that prepares us for the future. If not, it’s probably more of a scaled-down test of our reactions to various situations we encounter and also a chance for us to find out more about ourselves.

Examinations are not an absolute indication of our abilities, for there are other factors such as state of mind, health conditions and mental fatigue, that prevent us from performing to the best of our abilities in the short time period allocated for the papers. The subject that we are tested on may not even be what we want to do in our lives! What matters in an examination is not the content tested, or the essays we write. The essence of examinations is that it’s a test of whether we are willing to put in our heart and soul in everything we do, be they sweet or bitter.

When we fall below our own expectations in a certain subject, do we wallow in self-despair and resign to the fact that we’re just not as good to those “geniuses” out there? Or do we give our best shot in preparing for the major examination with optimism, committing every cell in our body to the goal in sight and strive towards it?

Undeniably, we will be judged based on our results in the A levels. Future scholarship applications, university admission and career prospects will all be dependent on the alphabets that we see on the result slip in April next year. I certainly do not agree with this judgement passed on people, for the potential of each individual is limitless and should not be approximated with arbitrary alphabets. Call it a rat race for all you want, but that is something we cannot change; it is well beyond our abilities to influence how scholarship and university boards interpret our results. What we can change is the way we perceive this seemingly obsolete process of examination preparation.

10 years down the road, when we are contributing to society in fields of our interest, we will recall the times we had preparing for examinations, and be grateful for the experience we gained in bouncing back strong after a setback, and of course, tasting the sweetness of success. We may not remember the physics formulae or economics concepts at that time, but the mental tenacity we forge during this period will aid us a long, long way.

Sometimes, when we put in a lot of effort in studying, trying to understand tough concepts taught in class, and we just aren’t able to see significant improvements, it may not be a problem with our brain at all! Many a times, it’s the mindset we have that serves as a blockage. This is something I always tell myself: If I’m going into the exam hall with images of failure at the back of my mind, I might as well not walk into it, because it just ain’t going to work out! For sure, we can hope that some supreme being will help us and grant a miracle, but how often do we see them? When our future is at stake, are we going to leave matters to chance? I’d rather not.

Being pessimistic about our grades and worrying about failure is a self-fulfilling prophecy. We aren’t going to worry ourselves to success. We have come thus far, and for the very reason that we are indeed capable, sometimes more capable than what we perceive of ourselves. There is really no reason not to be optimistic.

To all my discouraged friends out there who may not be totally satisfied with our prelim results, cheer up and be optimistic! Yes, we may start to worry if we lie on the left side or right side of the bell curve. We start to consider the standards of all other candidates taking the same paper, while others contemplate about giving up. All I can say is that statistics can lie, but we cannot lie to ourselves. Just do your utmost best in the A levels and let everything else fall in place. We will not go wrong.

You may not know me personally, but I sincerely wish all of you reading this post nothing but the very best in a month’s time. Jia You!

Life knows no bounds

I write this article as I finish reading “To what end our priorities?” by Miss Lee Wei Ling, director of the National Neuroscience Institute (The Sunday Times, 28 August 2011). She laments the wrong priorities in medicine and believes in research that truly brings benefits to mankind, rather than those which merely pursues novelty. I found the clause “if you do research for the sake of winning the Nobel Prize, I don’t think you understand what is important in life” particularly striking, because it is hard for me to distant the idea expressed by Miss Lee with the field in which I have immense passion – education.

Preparing for the GCE ‘A’ Level Examinations is a scary process. Not only do I realise that potential scholarship applications, university admissions and the kind of lifestyle I’ll be having (in short, my entire future) are at stake, I also cannot help but notice that almost everything that many of my peers are doing is geared in the direction of attaining the coveted distinction. And there I was in the library a couple of hours ago, reading a moral philosophy book by Michael Sandel, conscious of the fact that the chances of me writing about what I have read in a General Paper essay are infinitesimal. While teachers have repeatedly said that I should be memorising more examples for essay-writing and attempting more questions, I know for sure that this is not going to add much value to my life, yet I am intimidated at the thought of rejection by universities and scholarship boards. What is scary is not feeling underprepared for a major examination; it’s having such a dilemma at this point.

I have spent the past 6 months writing blog posts in criticism of the education system in Singapore, often in resolute fashion. But I am at least glad to have arrived at the conclusion that the key in mending the flaws of the education system lies in the mindset of students, and getting priorities right in the process of learning.

I think of the learning process to be analogous to scaling a mountain, with the Hut of Epiphany at its apex. Arduous and tiring, the trek up the mountain is daunting to any individual, but this journey of constant discovery serves a deeper purpose than what one may perceive. It elucidates our view of the society, the world around us, and of course, ourselves, as we gain altitude. And when we succeed in reaching the Hut of Epiphany and are capable of creating our own knowledge, the intellectual satisfaction derived is not merely the biological response of endorphin release, but also the source of fulfilment for the soul.

However, the education system in our country has mistaken this process to be a competitive race to the other side of the mountain. Financial and human resources are devoted not to aid students in scaling the mountain and reach its apex, but to dig holes through the mountain as well as to buy scooters to accelerate movement. Many scholarship boards and universities only consider the number of mountains scaled (i.e. number of distinctions) and the time taken to complete it. So it makes sense for students to overlook the epiphany of learning. The scooters make the physical scaling of the mountain look stupid and illogical, and that is not a good sign.

If there is one message I would like to share with my peers and future generations of learners, it is this: Let not the scooters tempt us! Go ahead and explore knowledge far beyond the textbooks and lecture notes. The destination is not the distinction grade, but rather the Hut of Epiphany, where more mountains await us to scale. Studying for the sake of examinations is akin to research for winning the Nobel Prize; if it doesn’t add value to anyone, then it is meaningless and signals a clear mis-prioritisation. Life knows no bounds, isn’t it?

P.S. I guess I’m going to let nature take its course for the ‘A’ Levels. I’ll do the revision for sure, but there are far more important things to pursue in life than grades (:

No Meritocracy Without Fairness

We often use the word “fairness” together with “meritocracy”, and this is reasonable because resources have to be allocated in a fair and just manner so as to sieve out talents and recognise them in a meritocratic system. In other words, fairness is a necessary condition for meritocracy, but I contend that the former is sorely lacking in our education system, thereby compromising the meritocratic approach our government takes.

The budget allocates a hefty sum of money to education (in fact education is the sector with the second-highest expenditure after defence), but how equally are these financial resources spread over the entire student population? Data of the annual budget for each school in Singapore is undisclosed, so we are unable to ascertain the true difference in average spending per student in more prestigious schools and “neighbourhood” schools. Yet, we do know that a major performing arts group in a school offering Integrated Programme receive up to $100,000 in annual funding. Though there are rumours that this amount is equivalent to the entire school budget for a neighbourhood school, I do have my reservations on the credibility of such rumours, but I suspect the actual figure is not too far off (at most 2 to 3 times). This severely limits the ability of neighbourhood schools to initiate programmes which are beneficial to student development but are expensive to run. Prestigious schools, in contrast, have no qualms about lavishly spending on such programmes.

The argument for such a difference in school funding and teaching resource has been repeated over and over again, that students in prestigious schools deserve more resources to fully develop their potential so as to groom them to become future leaders of this country. The problem comes when the difference in standards between students is a direct result of the difference in resources allocated to them. It’s not a secret that students in the best schools, and for that matter the best classes of each level, are often taught by the “best teachers”. Many have argued that it is the attitude of students that determine their results at the end of the day, but as a student myself, I have to admit that having a good teacher who is knowledgeable and is able to communicate ideas across effectively is the key to fully understanding tough concepts. Just as a good teacher can spur interest in students for a particular subject, a poor teacher can also turn students off easily. Given that students and teachers are stratified in such a way that good classes are almost always taught by good teachers, and that good schools receive significantly more funding that neighbourhood schools, it is not unthinkable that the difference in standards are perpetually widened.

I am deeply disturbed by some programmes that certain schools run, in particular one which aims to help the bottom third of the cohort pull their grades up and the top third of the cohort maintain their distinctions in a particular subject. I have tried to defend the teachers of that school by thinking of reasons to justify their decision to leave the middle third behind. Could it be that the middle third are those who demonstrate poor attitude? Or could it be a strain on teaching staff or a lack of venue? As far as my knowledge of the matter extends, the teachers of that school are very proud of the programme and some even accrue the success of their previous batch of students at the A Levels to this “enrichment class”. This makes it all the more perplexing to me as to why the entire population was not included in this class(es). And if it were really effective, a lack of teaching staff or venue would not present a major obstacle to the teachers whose passion to transmit knowledge to students would surely transcend any impediment in their way. An acquaintance (who so happen to be in the middle third) told me this, which sent chills down my spine: “I cannot rely on the teachers for help anymore. I can only rely on my peers.” My heart sank, and started questioning the fairness of this system. To me, nothing is as damning as leaving a third of the student population behind just because they don't contribute to any key performance indicator. I truly hope I’m wrong, and that there are some other obscure reasons. Or else, the contortions of our education system on the allocation of resources make it unfair, and at the same time, dangerous.

Early bloomers are the greatest beneficiaries of the education system. They mature early in their thinking and grasp concepts with relative ease, enter better classes and get taught by better teachers, then get into prestigious secondary schools and are again taught by teachers better than their peers’ in neighbourhood schools. Resources are diverted away from late bloomers and this prevents many from achieving their full potential. Some become disappointed in the education system and eventually lose faith in learning altogether.

Unless resources are allocated fairly and every individual is developed to his fullest potential, there is no true meritocracy to be upheld.

Reflections on 25.7.11

3 months more. Time is tight for revision. Seconds drift past silently and those who have not started studying hammer themselves in regret. Anxiety builds up inconspicuously. We are all aware of the consequences – screw the ‘A’ Levels and screw the rest of your life. 12 years of schooling and it all comes down to this. One examination to determine how good we are and who we will be in future.

I hate to use the word “learning” when talking about education in this country, because it is simply a training regime. Timed exercise after timed exercise, mock paper after mock paper – systematic conditioning of mind and body to clinch the top grade. But have we asked ourselves whether we allow the grade to define our standards?

This is indubitably a sensitive topic that we choose to bury in the deep factions of our minds. We earned the distinction and deserve it, or did we? Of course, we do celebrate people who have worked very hard for their achievements on the certificate, and invite them to speak to the next batch of students about how they were committed in memorising facts and examples for essays and how they sacrificed almost everything else in their lives to practise math problems. Inspiration, at least that’s what they call it.

Education is never about the A grade, as far as I’m concerned. Ultimately when we leave school, it is who we are as a person that truly matters, how we deliberate major issues in the world and think about problems in our lives. Ten years later, who will be able to recall the concepts and formulae that are taught now? At that point, what drives us will be the passion for learning and self-improvement that was nurtured in school. We would weigh solutions to problems like how we did in school, considering both the benefits and drawbacks before arriving at a reasoned conclusion. However, many a times, we become so obsessed with cramming facts into our brains that we lose touch with nurturing the soul within us.

I don’t think that any student, if given a choice, would want to memorise the gigantic load of information required to tackle the A level papers. It is merely because their classmates around them are doing it, that’s why they have to do it too. It’s not peer pressure; it’s the invisible contortions by the education system on the motivations of students.

I do believe that every child is born curious and that learning is an intuitive process. Yet the intuition to excel in whatever aspects society pre-defines, regardless of whether we are happy living with it, seems to dominate.

We do not have to be answerable to anyone, but at the end of the day, we have to ask ourselves what kind of person we want to be when we step out of school. Mindless mugging may lead us to the grade we desire, but it certainly cannot lead us to the passionate and thinking person we want to be.

The disappointment of an economics student

Three years ago at Outward Bound School, the teacher-in-charge of my ward asked me what academic subject was my favourite. Almost without hesitation, I answered Economics, and she was surprised because I wasn’t even studying economics at Secondary 3 level. I explained that I was intrigued by the elegance of the financial system and wanted to learn more about human behaviour ever since I was young. Naturally, I pursued the subject at H2 level when I entered JC, but unfortunately it didn’t turn out to be much of what I had expected.

To be honest, I didn’t do considerably well in the first test, and I thought I didn’t understand the concepts well enough. As I delved further into market mechanisms and then macroeconomics this year, I came to an unsettling conclusion, that getting the A grade required much more than mere understanding of the concepts. To do well in economics required a huge memory and a fast hand, but the defiant me refused to associate merit with regurgitation. The elegant subject which I once proudly declared to a teacher to be my favourite turned out to be one that required hard memorising of examples and evaluation points.

The first shocking thing I would like to bring up is that students are discouraged from writing about political and social insights in our responses to essays and case study questions. Teachers maintain that they’re not interested in anything else besides the subject concerned, but I say economics is intertwined with politics and social issues. It would be myopic to consider a devaluation of the Chinese Yuan without acknowledging the predominant concern of political pressure from the United States and the possible effects on cost of living brought about by rising inflation rates. The distinction between politics and economics is not so clear-cut. For meaningful discussion of a policy or economic phenomenon, it is imperative to look at the problem from the perspective of a politician and the average citizen as well, not just that of an economist.

Pardon me for being straightforward, but the model answers given to us for essay questions (which is itself a paradox considering the multitude of valid opinions) reek of pro-government sentiments. I was utterly perplexed when the MAS policy to shift appreciation of currency to zero-percent during the 2009 financial crisis was “justified” to be effective when export volume to major trade partners continued to fall at 30% per month after implementation of the policy (well, they said it stopped the bleeding, at least). Weren’t essays supposed to have a balanced viewpoint?

Another example is the short implementation lag for discretionary monetary and fiscal policies in Singapore because of the lack of intensive debate in parliament. I was stunned when it is presented as an advantage to policy-making, because of the myriad of reasons ranging from strategic redrawing of electoral boundaries to the GRC system that simply stifled any opposition for the past decades. To me, the lack of rigorous discussion about policies is a problem instead of a merit, for there is little check and balance to the solutions put forth by the ruling party and supported by the majority of parliament. When economics students are made to memorise these information, it is dangerous that critical evaluation skills may become diluted, contrary to the exact objectives of teaching humanities subjects.

Well, it turned out that the teacher I spoke to at OBS is an economics teacher, but I didn’t regret saying what I said 3 years ago. I still love the purest form of economics, and I know for sure that I will continue to explore further in this mesmerising subject when I graduate. I apologise to my tutor here, but I will respect economics.

My school is not a firm

My school is constantly engaging in a fierce competition with other schools, in battlegrounds ranging from academic results to CCA achievements. In such an oligopolistic market, it is reasonable for the school to be conscious of rivals (i.e. other schools) and it is apparent that other schools’ decisions affect ours too. This is a race for a good reputation and track record, as schools try to establish brand loyalty and increase market share.

It’s not only my school; almost all schools in Singapore are trying to associate themselves with quality. In fact, they are trying to differentiate themselves from others and reduce the degree of substitutability by introducing a myriad of programmes and initiatives (such as the LCD programme: don’t ask me what it stands for) to promote the school name. The objective is to make their demand more price inelastic, so that they can raise our cut-off point someday without losing too many top Primary 6 or O level students. An occasional newspaper report about a school’s outstanding performance would be welcomed, but one regarding misbehaviour of students would instantly cause a fall in price, if not force the inefficient school to exit the industry.

Once in a while, the school would pursue ambitious development programmes (for instance, a new badminton academy) and seek Foreign Direct Investments. To incentivise FDIs to choose the school as the dream destination to pump in capital, it is perfectly reasonable to offer something in return to boost their good name, apart from a productive and highly-trained workforce. So, students really shouldn’t be too bothered with carrying around an additional logo on their PE attire and school socks. It’s not commercialisation; it’s economics!

As for CCAs, my school enjoys substantial economies of scale by maximising the number of people in mainstream groups, such as those in Performing Arts and Uniformed Groups. These CCAs are deemed as more useful in helping the school achieve product promotion, hence are allocated much more resources in their operations than other lowly CCAs. In case you’re wondering, my school intervenes predominantly because of the fear of market failure. There are positive externalities, such as how an improved SYF performance brings about more funding for all to enjoy, that we ignorant commoners fail to consider when making consumption decisions. As such, it isn’t hard to realise that CCA system reforms are timely interventions that prevent market failure and reduce inequity.

There is stringent quality control in my school too. Any product that bears major flaws will be exterminated from the firm (and the poor product is left to look for other firms to take shelter in). Even those who do not keep their hair, I mean their physical appearance, neat. Besides, certain CCAs are eliminated as though they are disposing of obsolete goods or goods with defects. This is to maintain a high quality of production and improve investors’ confidence in the firm.

I tried hard to convince myself that my school is not a firm, but the bare facts are irrefutable.