Clowning around - unfunny business.

 

The clown is back. He has a name - Mr Khairin Rasoh, 24. He said he has been dressing as a clown for the last three years doing roadshows at various locations to entertain kids and all. 

Anyway, you may have heard the news a few days ago. Clowns were spotted outside Tao Nan School and Angsana Primary School. Complaints were also lodged to the police concerning clowns popping up at various primary schools. 

“Members of the public are advised to stay away from strangers and to report any suspicious persons or activities to the police.”

In today’s news, Khairin spoke out. He was admittedly one of them clowns. Or, the only one going around to rally publicity. He works for Speech Academy Asia, which guides students in public-speaking skills. It was part of the company’s outreach program. 

The director Kelvin Tan said: “There was no evil intention behind the costumes, and we sincerely apologise for it. We will not do it again.” Tan also denied that his clown had asked the kids to follow them. “Our employees wouldn’t go around saying such things.”

This led to the ire of another Tan. This time, he is a member of parliament, and it was not funny business for him. Not by a long shot. Tan Chuan-Jin said: “Whoever is doing what I assume to be some viral marketing nonsense, stop it! I trust the police are investigating this. It is not amusing and just plain dangerous.”

Kelvin Tan said that it was part of the company’s roadshow and the team members were asked to dress as “cute mascots”. He said he was not aware that they would go as clowns. “Maybe the clowns were too scary. It is wrong, and we won’t do it again.”

Khairin was apologetic. He said: “All we do is to give our brochures, free mask and stickers and we never approach children alone. We usually approach the parents first, and only children if they are in a big group.”

“I dress like this just to try and entertain kids. I was shocked and disappointed to learn that people were scared.”

Lesson? I guess we have Stephen King to thank for putting the evil in clowns. His IT movies (1990, 2017), about a killer clown, has terrorised young and old movie goers all over the world. Not to mention the recent hit Joker, which won Joaquin Phoenix an Oscar for best actor last year. It is about a clown who had gone bat-crazy, on a self-gratuitous killing spree.

I know Speech Academy Asia does not have evil intention to scare school going kids, since they are their target market. But in their enthusiasm for business publicity, they may have overlooked how the idea of a party clown has culturally mutated from someone doing magic tricks, making balloon animals and miming to make kids laugh to someone who stalks, haunts and chases kids and adults in movies. 

My god, even Pixar movies have turned party clowns into daylight scarecrows or nightmarish bogeyman. Recall Inside out (2015)? 

Well, there was Jangles the Clown, who was one of Riley's darkest fears. In Riley’s dreamscape, joy and sadness stumbled upon Jangles and woke him up. The next scene was a scary chase, out of Jangle’s dark cave that even sent chills down my spine. 

Another cultural mutation was Toy Story 3. In that widely popular Pixar hit for kids, there was a clown named Chuckles, and he was clearly downcast and depressed. Not exactly the fun and hilarious clown we all grew up with. 

So, regardless of Kelvin’s and Khairin’s intention, they get no star-sticker for comic timing. And I would hazard a guess to say that even if Khairin were to dress up as Barney the Purple Dinosaur, Donald Duck or Peppa Pig, and go at it alone, without a carnival-like entourage, greeting unsuspecting kids outside their schools with brochures, sweets and masks, his employer, Speech Academy Asia, will still scarce kids (and especially their parents), well, speechless.

If any lesson is to be learned here, it is captured in the word C-L-O-W-N.

C - Context. Even Thor with a hammer and superman in his bright red underwear would be shocking and scary if they stand all alone at the bus stop, winking and smiling at you. To compound matters, the danger for kids, who are too young to understand, is stranger-danger. And dressing up as their superheroes make for perfect baits for child-abductors. 

L - Levity. To treat a serious matter with humour often backfire. Emotional and cultural sensitivity were clearly lacking here. And it reminds me of an advertisement of a product, Mr Clean, which blitzed on Mother’s Day, to imply that a woman’s duty is to clean the house. 

And then, there is the Dove advertisement, which juxtapositioned an African-American lady in a bathrobe and a white American lady in the same bathrobe side by side, with the caption “Before-After”. You figure for yourself what’s wrong with that. 

O - Overkill. Clearly, this clowning about near primary schools qualifies. It is over the top, and ideas like that either wins big or flops big. But, if it were free publicity that was the collateral intention, then it’s anyone’s guess the effect it has on the Academy’s bottomline. 

W - Warning. MP Tan Chuan-Jin had already issued it - “Whoever is doing what I assume to be some viral marketing nonsense, stop it!” But I am using it as an advance notice to schools. If early preparations were made, and a day was fixed for such carnival-like event for publicity, then in that disarming context, the clowns will not be a killjoy, but a harbinger of joy. 

And finally, 

N - Normal. It is anything but. Speech Academy Asia has apologised in good time, and promised to heed Chuan-Jin’s admonishment - “stop the nonsense”. That is returning things back to normal. 

I guess it would take some time for parents to trust clowns who stand near school’s gate again. Theirs is not a shocker, reel time, but one that is in-your-face, real time.

 

Chan Chun Sing - RVHS Incident.

 

In Minister Chan’s recounting of the RVHS Incident yesterday, one thing stood out for me. This is his narration. 

“”Towards the end of lunch break, a group of students encounters a Sec 4 student outside a toilet. He is holding an axe and asks them to call the police. The Sec 4 student asks another group of students in the classroom next to the toilet to call the police.””

That was to me not just a call to alert the police, but a cry for help. It was a cry for help after the realisation that he had done a terrible act, one that has left someone whom he doesn’t know lying motionless on the toilet floor. 

Still holding the axe in his hand, the 16-year old pleaded twice to the students to call the police. One group were passers-by and the others were in another classroom. At that time, the boy just wanted help, help for the boy in the toilet and help for himself. And in that moment of clarity, the axe he held in his hand was turned to ploughshare. 

As I read the account, I realised that that fateful morning, there were two strangers in the 16-year old boy’s life; one was the boy lying in the toilet and the other was himself. For a moment, that person who committed the act was not the same person who asked for help. The former was someone the latter had been struggling with for many years. Most tragically, it was a fight that costs an innocent stranger his life. 

My heart truly goes out to that innocent life, a life who is dearly missed by many, his parents and friends. A life who was full of potential, of hope and of unsurpassed joy to his loved ones. 

Minister Chan also recounted what happened in the aftermath. He was approached by the 16-year-old boy’s classmates. They too were asking for help from the minister. “Amidst their pain and confusion as to what had happened...they just had one simple request: “Minister, please help our friend. Please take care of him.””

Minister Chan said: “I saw grace, I saw compassion, I saw solidarity among the students and the staff of River Valley High. The way they carried themselves, the way they responded to the incident, will be etched in my mind forever.”

I believe that that call for help was one made by his classmates because they know him. For 4 years, he was a student in the school, and a friend to them. I would also guess that they know him as someone who had his own demons to fight. And two years ago, he nearly gave his own life in that struggle for sanity to save himself. Alas, it was no less one tragedy compounded by another tragedy, yet Minister Chan saw grace and compassion, in the aftermath. 

Let me go out on a limb here to say that unlike the shootings in US and NZ, where people saw only hate and disunity, this incident however, I see what Minister Chan saw too...I see compassion, I see grace. And it was indeed a cry for help, community and unity. It was a solidarity or a bond, however broken and tragic, that has stood on both sides of the divide, one holding the axe and the other lying on the floor, yet this bond seeks to unite bleeding hearts, and heal broken souls. 

I therefore earnestly pray for the victim and the assailant, both too young, for our schools and for our community, and for RVHS. May we all grow wiser and stronger and never let go of the lesson learned from this tragic incident. 

And by the way, I just want to say that River Valley High is a name with an inspiring juxtaposition, a name that speaks about a river running through a valley. That river represents life, resilient life, amidst a valley that challenges us all to rise above to greater heights. It is also a reminder that we are stronger than this, and we will overcome. These are the ideals we hold on to, and they allow our feet to remain grounded. 

In another part of his speech, Minister Chan reminded us parents about how we ought to define success. It made a lot of sense to me too. You can read it up yourself. Maybe, I will leave that part for my post tomorrow morning.

For now, I wish to end with the lyrics of a song titled “Scars In Heaven” by Casting Crown. It is a song about grace. Journalist Grace Ho highlighted it in the papers this morning. And it is said (via online rumour) that this song was played by the boy’s father in his wake. Here is the chorus: -

“The only scars in heaven, they won’t belong to me and you;

There’ll be no such thing as broken, and all the old will be made new;

And the thought that makes me smile now, even as the tears fall down;

Is that the only scars in heaven are on the hands that hold you now.”

Indeed, that is grace, an amazing grace whose scarred hand has never let us go.

 

RVHS I

8 hours sleep. That’s what our kids need. And three leading authorities have come forward to lend their weight to call for it.

First, the experts: Two associate professors Joshua Gooley and June Lo from Duke-NUS Medical School and Yong Loo Lin School of Medicine, and one professor from Yong Loo Lin too, namely, Michael Chee. 

They are internationally recognised sleep scientists and have used their findings and objective data to transforms lives all over. Their advice therefore ought to be given a listening ear to. Mind you, they are not talking in their sleep. 

Second, the issue. It comes in this number - 6.5 hours. That’s about how much our students on average are sleeping. It is reported that “eight hours is enough, but fewer than 15 per cent of secondary school students achieve this.”

Third, the solution? Well, start school later. Start at 8:30 am. 

And if traffic is an issue, which coincides with peak hours, then stagger the timing, lessen the curriculum, make arrangements for transport with appropriate transport apps and car-pooling. Whatever is to be done, bend the solution to fit (or solve) the problem, that is, by hook or crook, grant our kids 8 hours sleep. But, why? Why 8 hours?

Fourth, the benefits. “In a top secondary school in Singapore, an increase of about 20 minutes of sleep on school nights was associated with fewer depression symptoms and lower daytime sleepiness...it improves alertness and improved mood.” Enough said? 

Fifth, the lesson. 

I know what you are thinking, or at least some of you parents. In terms of PISA and other academic scores, our kids are way up there. We excel so well in those assessments, attaining international recognition, is there really a need to change what is not only not broken, but it is working superbly? 

Well, what’s working may not be what’s best for our kids. The question is, at what cost are we achieving it? Or, what is the long term effect? And most pertinently, is there a better way to excel without burning our kids out, risking mood swings, depression and possibly suicide?

And we are not without precedent here. An experiment was carried out in Nanyang Girls’ High School (“NYGH”). Here is what is reported by Julian Lim and Lee Su Mei in a recent CNA article.

“NYGH spent half a year in preparing to shift their start time. They went through many rounds of revising the curriculum before rolling out one that would allow school to end at around the same time without comprising curriculum coverage.” 

“They were aware of the potential impact on transport, so they surveyed their students to understand their transport situation and concerns. The school also monitored local traffic conditions before the change to determine how much of a delay would be tolerable.”

“In short, NYGH spent significant effort to figure out how to delay school start time in the most optimal, least disruptive way. The results from the experiment were clear: Students were happier, more alert and more positive about going to school.”

So, where there is a will, there’s a way? 

At this point, I hear the naysayers: How about kids sleeping later then, if you tweak the time to 8:30 am? In other words, wouldn’t they just sleep later since they can wake up later?

Well, the professors have got this covered. Here is their findings: “Across longitudinal studies where delayed start times of more than 30 minutes are provisioned for, later wake-up times have consistently been observed. Bedtimes either do not change or are delayed by a smaller amount, resulting in real gains in sleep time.”

What is noteworthy is that bedtimes do not change. And if delayed, not by much, and they still wake up later. So in the end, if we parents, teachers, principals and ministers do the maths, our children get MORE sleep when school starts LATER.

And another unplanned experimental outcome is that during lockdown, “secondary school children in Singapore obtained about 40 minutes more sleep...as compared with their usual (short) amount of sleep.”

What is a bonus here (to start school later) is that “when sleep was extended to eight hours, performance resembled having nine hours of sleep. This suggests that every few minutes closer to the recommended sleep duration (of 8 hours) is worth reclaiming.”

Sixth, is it time to act? 

Well, MOE will tell you that they have decentralised the decision to individual schools. It is therefore not mandatory, but discretionary. It’s up to them. 

However, most schools are not acting on it. It is too much of an administrative disruption, and they rather sleepwalk through it or hold on to their more familiar security blanket, unless of course, as the three professors suggested, MOE makes it a law, similar to the laws requiring us to wear masks, keep a safe distance, and observe numbers at public places. 

Seventh, I always feel that as the population increases, we manage the masses by way of manicuring a culture via proper rules and regulations. How we organise society as a whole can affect its outcome, even the unintended effects arising from such structure or culture. 

For example, if you want policy holders to continue with their insurance policies, just tweak the option to renew section, and inform them that if they don’t do anything about it, the policy will renew itself automatically, thereby assuming that acquiescence is implied permission. 

By changing the option, you change the behaviour, en mass, for good or for bad. Likewise with schools and the long term health of our children. 

Inertia comes with its own resistance and also its own unintended consequences too. Before long, we become a byproduct of our enforced or entrenched culture. In schools, that entrenched, routinised culture is starting assembly at 7:30 am sharp, risking mental health issues in the long run, or forfeiting its benefits by default. 

If we know the benefits for our children are real, proven and enduring, and don’t worry, they will still continue to do well in PISA to maintain that international recognition, if not better, without sacrificing their mental well-being, then why are we not fighting the real enemy here, that is, inertia?

For all it takes is to push it back to 8:30 am (by order of parliament - if that’s what it takes) and everything over time will eventually adjust itself to it like cultural lemmings on a march, and then we can sit back and enjoy the better results, the happier kid, the less hectic schedule, the better absorption in class, the keener sense of learning, and most importantly, the better mood, for the most optimal social effect and benefits. What’s there to lose? 

Alas, there is no eighth lesson here. We don’t need any more, and one more would not make any difference. For enough has been said and done about it. Now, it’s time to act?

 

PSLE Saga IV - Raphael Lee

Raphael got featured this morning for the second time. Journalist Cheryl Tan interviewed his parents about this “small, brave soul who inspired many.”

Most of you know about his inspiring story, but the interview also tells us about his final day before he passed on. 

The day was Nov 12 this year. And Raphael somehow knew that death was imminent. That brave 12-year-old asked his mother, “What would happen if her only child died before her. If he did, he hoped she would donate his body to scientific research.”

Raphael was afraid, his mother said. In fact, she said: “I don’t think I’ve seen him so afraid before.”

“Just as he was being sedated to begin the operation, he told me, “Mummy, I don’t want to lie down. I want to sit down. I want you to hug me.””

Cheryl wrote: “On the operating table, Raphael suffered from excessive blood loss which resulted in brain damage. He died the following day.”

His mum said: “So that was how he went into a deep sleep, and that was the last time we saw him alert and awake.”

One thing about Raphael is that there is just so much grit in him to want to live his life at such a young age to the fullest. Putting aside his PSLE results, which he did well considering his condition, Raphael was also an “avid online gamer” and he “joined various co-curricular activities in school such as chess club, speech and drama club, and robotics club.”

He did all that even when, at a very young age, he had inherited a rare condition called “Li-Fraumeni Syndrome”, which is “a genetic disorder which predisposed him to a wide range of rare cancers.”

In 2016, to halt the spread of bone cancer in his left forearm, he had his left arm amputated. Yet, nothing could have robbed him of his zest and cheer for life. Nothing dampened his spirit. 

“He would go around to encourage the other cancer patients in his ward, which also earned him the Inspirational Patient and Caregiver Award from KKH of 2020.”

I have written about Raphael a few days ago, and the amazing love he has received from his parents, William and Winnie. I have nothing to add to what Cheryl has written today, and you should go and read it.

My parting shot however is about a gift Raphael gave to his mom last December when he went for an operation to remove his right collarbone.

The gift was something deeply precious to Winnie. It was a simple message in a bottle. The message reads: “I love you Mama,” “with strokes of green, her favourite colour, on the back””. 

Winnie said: “He was a boy of few words but it was always his wish to inspire others with his story.” 

In sum, that is what life is all about - “I love you Mama.” It is a love that always come through. And it leaves nothing the same as it was before, when love completes its work in the lives who truly embrace it. 

Sadly, a young brave life like Raphael’s has come and gone, but his story lives on. He had always wanted to inspire others, even in the hospital ward where he won the award for being an inspirational patient and caregiver. 

However oxymoronic being a patient and caregiver is, Raphael’s short life has shown that you can be a hospital patient, treasuring and fighting for every breathe within you for as long as it takes, yet still lead an inspiring life as someone who never gives up, someone who is always spreading cheer to others.

Indeed, Aldous Huxley once said that “experience is not what happens to a man. It is what a man does with what happens to him.” And Raphael (being just a boy) has gained so much experience when he saw beyond his afflictions, that is, the cancers that had taken part of his body, yet, by conscious daily choices, he never allowed it to take his soul and spirit that were so much bigger than the cancer itself (and mind you, there are so many cancer patients out there who, like Raphael, had fought the good fight). 

Yet, the reality is, within that embattled frame, Raphael fought to the last breath even in the midst of indescribable fear and uncertainty. Winnie saw his fear when he told her: “Mummy, I don’t want to lie down. I want to sit down. I want you to hug me.”

Alas, every child deserves a hug. Every man or woman needs to be hugged too, more often than we think we want or need it. Love may overcome many things in life, but the greatest comfort and hope it brings is not by remote, but by touch, by embrace, and by tears shed and shared. 

In our lifetime, we have said many goodbyes to lives lost to cancer. But, many of these lives have left a story that has inspired the living deeply. 

They have written their stories, amidst the pain and tears, the sorrow and fears. Their words were mostly silence, expressionless, yet their lives continued the legacy, with life-affirming words planted in our hearts whenever we read about their stories. 

Winnie said: “During his wake, there were many attendees who came, some of whom we did not even know. But all of them said he was very brave and strong.”

The world is made better by such stories of bravery and courage. It is Raphael’s message in the bottle to all of us - a message of undying love, a message by one who has fought the good fight, and completed the race of life, no matter how young one was.

 

PSLE Saga III - Raphael Lee.

Raphael scored a good 220 for his PSLE yesterday. But he was not there to pick up his results. His parents, William Lee and Winnie Lee collected the results posthumously. Yes, sadly, Raphael passed away on 13 Nov, after he did his PSLE. Here’s the background.

At eight months old, in 2008, Raphael was “diagnosed with rhabdomyosarcoma in his left forearm.” 8 years later, in 2016, he was “diagnosed with osteosarcoma, or bone cancer. It started in his left arm again, and eventually spread to his right collarbone and both lungs.”

It was a muted and mixed celebration for the Lee family. Their son scored As for mathematics and science and Bs for English and mother tongue. 

Lesson? Please go read his story. It captures the heart of what a parent-child relationship truly is. 

I write this not so much because of a tragedy of this scale, but because it is a perfect narrative of what a child can teach us parents. 

Alas, PSLE may be daunting, but Raphael faced a greater test in life, and it is life itself

Let me briefly narrate Raphael’s love for life (even if it was a short one) in his own words in the report today written by Jolene Ang. 

“When Raphael was diagnosed with bone cancer in his left arm in 2016, he underwent cryotherapy, which involved using liquid nitrogen to destroy the cancer cells.”

“But the very next year, doctors found another swelling near his left wrist and said that amputation was inevitable.”

William said that Raphael was “devastated” when he heard that he was going to lose his arm. But “he took it in his stride”, and managed to always keep his countenance up. He smiled and cheered up family and friends who visited him after his operation. 

There are two things you must know about Raphael. 

First, his parents can’t talk him out of taking his PSLE this year. Despite the fact that had to go through “targeted therapy, or oral medication, when he was taking his papers”, his mother said: “But no matter how tired and sickly he was, he wanted to go back to school because he enjoyed it, and loved spending time with his friends," 

Second, tragedy struck again when his father William was in August diagnosed with Stage 2 colon cancer in the large intestine. 

Worried that his dad may not be able to deal with the treatment, "(Raphael) told his mum, 'Why does Papa have to get cancer? Why not let me have it in his place, since I'm more experienced and have gone through chemotherapy before?'

Winnie said: "I was so touched by this. I told him not to be silly. ‘It's so easy to tell you to be brave and strong - now it is time for me to lead by example and show you I can do it too.'"

Truly, that about sums up the bond of love between parent and child. 

I know this story, a true story, will move one to tears, but the point is that it should move hearts to see beyond what I have been writing this past three days - that is, beyond a lifetime of judgment based on grades to a lifetime of shared pain, overcoming and celebration based on love and hope. 

Raphael may not be there for the results, but hands down, he has, for me, passed the greatest test in life, and that is, he has shown courage in the face of death, hope in the face of dread, and love in the face of devastation. 

When you read his story, trust me, the last thing on your mind is the grades or the numbers. William and Winnie went to collect the results not because they want to know the grades so much as they want to fulfill their son’s last wish. 

This is what William said to him: “We told him that our focus was not on his studies but on his health. We would tell him, 'Just do your best, there is no stress', but he wanted to prove himself." 

Indeed, Raphael has done just that, he has proven himself; not so much with 220, or Express stream, but his love for life, his passion for learning, and his joy for living, all this in the midst of imminent mortality. 

Yes, death where is thy sting? For Raphael broke it to pieces in his fight for the good race of life, and it is all truly about relationship. That may sound trite, and you as a parent may have heard it before, but until one “leads by example”, as Raphael did so courageously and consistently, it will only touch us the way a classroom textbook touches us - superficially, emotionally, and momentary.

For the true lesson in life comes outside of the classroom, that is, in the home, on the hospital bed, in the valley of death, in the broken hearts of loved ones, and in the celebration of love that is forever. 

Raphael will be remembered by all who loved him deeply and dearly. RIP solider of and for life; for you have won not just the academic crown, but the overcoming crown of life.

 

PSLE Saga Part II.

A revised repost.

With the PSLE results drawing near, I am reminded of a saying, “A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.” And I guess a child is God’s opinion that life should go long, if not strong, that is, go beyond the grades, to a lifetime of sharing, bonding, overcoming and loving. 

As parents, we are our children's first refuge, first port of call. They come to us with great expectations of acceptance, love and hope. We set the tone for their belief in the world outside. Our words and deeds make a big difference in their life. They look up to us for guidance, direction and encouragement. They trust us with their life. 

We have heard it many times, that raising a child takes a village. But it is still the home that our children spend most of their growing-up years in. The village may contribute to his or her viewpoints, beliefs and conduct, but behind closed doors of our little family hut, it is still the parents who make the first and enduring impression. 

Our first responsibility is to love our children and allow that love to spur them on to face life's challenges. But some parents tend to put the carriage before the horse and shower love only when they earn or deserve it. Parents make love into a competiton, a test, or a race for the children to complete and excel before they show it. Their love is not only conditional, it is at most times inconsistent, even unpredictable. 

The reality is, some of our children may never be as successful as defined by the world. They may lag behind academically. They may struggle with grades not because they do not want to do well, but because they just can't. They just can't achieve what society expects of them at that age. They all bloom at their own pace, own time. 

So, blessed is the child who is genetically an all-rounder, when everything comes second nature to him or her. But does it make her or him easier to love as compared to another who genuinely struggles for the parent’s approval? 

Before you answer that, spare a thought for the life of a child. It doesn't start and end with PSLE or "O" levels results. The society may be conditioned to judge our child by what is written on a piece of paper or two, but we as their parents should look beyond that for the simplest reason that life is a journey, and given a lifetime, our children often surprise us most pleasantly. 

Most times, if not all the time, the child takes two exams - one on paper and the other for approval. Often, it is the second exam that makes the most difference to his life. He may miss the mark for the exam on paper, but it is the second exam for his parental love and acceptance that gives him the fortitude and resilience to make a comeback when his time comes. 

Sometimes, we as parents crave for an early harvest of results, but in the end, in our desperation to overwater, over-fertilise, we end up with a broken harvest, of hopes and dreams, and most importantly, of trust. If love makes the difference, then have faith, plant the seed and be patient. If you water it regularly, never give up and be always hopeful, the harvest of love will in time make you deeply proud. Mind you, a relationship is a distance marathon, not a competitive sprint. 

Let me end with a note on first loves.

We all have our first loves with our child. It is the purest of experiences, sublimest. It is most transforming for us. We readily and instinctively celebrate these many first loves moments. They come to us with great anticipation. 

The first time we receive the news that our wife is pregnant is one of these moments. Our child's first kick is another. The birth of our child is the blossoming of our joy. His/her first smile warms our heart deeply. 

Then comes the first word and first step and first embrace. These are first loves moments that change perspectives for us. They are the source of our pride, the sustenance of our life. We draw strength from these moments to face our own challenges, our own demons. Sometimes, our children change us more than we change them. 

Yes, it may take a village to raise a child, that’s true. But, at times, it also takes a child to raise that child in us. That child we left behind when we ourselves failed to live up to our own parents’ expectations. That child we pretend has grown up when he/she has not because we have left the hurts and disappointments unresolved as we become parents of our own kids.

This is where our child holds a mirror in front of us, his/her young life telling us that theirs is a very familiar road we as their parents have travelled before. A road of shared brokenness, shared pain. But it is also a road where first loves can empower and change. And that takes a child, our child, to raise the child within us to full maturity, forgiveness and mutual hope. 

So, let these first loves moments sustain our unconditional love for them. Let them lift us from the disappointments and gloom we may experience along the journey. 

Because if we keep the faith and hope, there will be many first loves moments waiting for us to savor with our children. They may even come most unexpectedly to us.

Trust me, when we keep believing in them, one day, they will come to us and thank us for it. They will shed tears of gratitude. They will understand intimately how much we love them. They will realise love indeed conquers all. 

And with all those first loves moments accumulated, we would have done our children the greatest favor, that is, passing down a legacy of resilient love for them and for their children's children.

 

PSLE Saga - Part I.

PSLE results are coming out this Wednesday. And that kind of reminded me of a parental tank of piranhas rushing for the academic holy grail, that is, enrolling your child into the crème de la crème institution. The rush is quite relentless and emotionally traumatic, as parents typically desire the best for their child. 

That is why the parenting style of the principal of a primary school and a father of five is so refreshing, if not reassuring. Charles Chan has today spoken out about the different academic track of his children. His wife works as a communication specialist in a multinational company. 

Most of their children did not take the conventional meritocratic route to academic excellence. Conventional route here refers to getting into the Express Stream, moving up to “O” levels, and then completing “A” levels before entering U. 

Charles said that two of his children went through Normal stream. His eldest child “went to Normal Academic stream, and despite doing well in Secondary 1, decided not to transfer to the Express stream so that she could learn at her own pace.”

She then went through the Polytechnic Foundation Programme and is now completing her final year diploma in food science. 

His second child, 18, took the “O” levels route and is now doing the International Baccalaureate (instead of “A” levels). His third child, 16, went to Normal Technical and was transferred to Normal Academic. He is now doing his N levels. 

Charles’ fourth child applied for Direct School Admission but was not shortlisted. He ended up in the Express stream after PSLE. 

And finally, his last child, six, will “soon go from his Ministry of Education (MOE) kindergarten to the same primary school next year. 

There you have it, the Chan family multiple academic tracks for their five children. Their kids in fact covered most of the other academic tracks, that is, NT, NA, Express, IB, and Poly. As for their future, well, I am sure it is in good hands. 

Lesson? Just one. 

In the write-up, Charles said that some parents asked them why they seem so chill about their kids’ different pathways. Charles said: “We don’t scold them for failing tests. My only follow-up question to them is: Have you put in your best effort?”

Personally, I can identify with Charles because two of my three children are/was in the NA stream. They are doing well now, one taking her N levels next year and the other A levels. My youngest will be primary five next year. She is attending DAS (Dyslexia Association of Singapore). 

Genetically speaking, my wife and I did not give birth to little einsteins. But they are ours nevertheless to treasure, to savour and to nurture. And that is a privilege of being a parent I keep reminding myself of, because I tend to take for granted sometimes when I compare them with the other kids who seem to excel academically, as if it was second nature to them.

 

After living on earth for 50 years, I do believe in natural selection in the gene pool where some are “natural born geniuses” and some are, well, just naturally born. That is a scientific fact because you can’t explain otherwise when a child is able to play chess and a few musical instruments at five, compose a sonnet at six, calculate in his mind big numbers at seven, and then enter university at 12.

Pardon me, but having kids is, at times, very much like queuing up to buy 4D (yes, genetically speaking). Not all will strike the first prize, that is, the glowing IP track towards a coveted civil service appointment for a career at commanding heights. 

At times, a group of them (parents) will share the first prize. That’s swell, but it is just not you, who happens to be holding the one ticket that misses the mark by one or two numbers. Well, some do get consolatory prizes, and their kid’s academic pathway is quite secure with a smooth academic ride through to a bachelor degree, and possibly a Masters to boot. 

In Singapore, most of us are eagerly queuing up for the winning ticket to academic excellence for our kids. I mean, who wants our kids to be working at the lowest rung of society doing menial task and earning peanuts when they can be sitting at a highrise office telling people what to do and what not to do, and storing up for themselves the whole peanut harvest for a secured retirement, right? 

Alas. we want our kids to do well and we will do everything within our financial powers (for those who can afford) to make sure they get into the best school, the best class, secure the best teacher, the best exam papers, the best tutor, the best buddy who studies, instead of being mad about BTS. In our meritocratic frenzy, you can’t really blame parents for putting their kids first, and above everything else, right? 

That is why the anti-lemming mindset of the Chan household makes for a refreshing read and lesson for me. Charles said: “We give our children space to find their way and decide how hard they want to push themselves. In any case, none of them wants to learn the piano though their mother plays it very well. No one has expressed a strong desire to be an educator.”

“We know that giving them their own space to grow, make mistakes and pick themselves up has helped them to become more independent lifelong learners.”

“Everytime we come across stressed parents and children, we are reminded that the journey of life is a process we want our children to discover and find joy in living, as they grow older and become more independent.” Kudos to you Charles. 

Well, I know what I have written seems to be an indictment on most of our parenting style in Singapore; which is, if you think about it, is about scaling up the one-track academic pathway at all costs. 

The raw reality is, our obsession for grades doesn’t show until we stare helplessly at the perforated sheet and the tears of our child streaming down his/her cheeks, pleading with us that the next time, they will do better. That is the parental nightmare where all our unfulfilled dreams get poured into a perceived leaking vessel of sore disappointment, right?

 

Well, you are not alone. In Singapore, that’s natural, almost a kind of parental bill of rights, that is, our right to expect the sky from our kids, regardless. 

I don’t pretend to be any different because enlightened ideas that come with such jingles like “don’t worry, they will catch up” or “your child just need more time, that’s all” or “maybe he’s different for a reason” are ok, and I am chill about it from a philosophical POV until he or she brings the results home. Like sins are other people, bad grades too are other parents. 

But then, truth be told, I have learned the hard way. I have been there, done that, wallowed hard, and commiserated in a pity-party of one before. 

Yes, I do not hide my obsessions for grades well. yet over the years, I gradually find myself moving away from defining them by their grades to defining them by things that are much more intangible like the bond we share when we play board games together, the holding of hands when they stumble and fall, the crazy talks and teasings we engaged in during dinnertime, and the little encouragement along the way even if things don’t turn out as we had expected it. 

I feel even more strongly now that these are the memories that will carry them through even in the worst of times, because the greatest difference we can make as a parent is not so much about celebrating with them when they are doing well, but it is about standing by them, embracing them and assuring them when they don’t do well. 

For moments spent together walking through the valley is as important, if not more so, as moments spent with them when they are at the summit of their achievements. In fact, when we openly embrace the two pathways of our child’s maturity and growth, their summits always feel fuller, deeper and more enduring, if not more rewarding.