PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS:
How living in New York has illuminated for us the difference between the Singaporean Dream and the Singaporean Plan
By Colin Goh & Joyceln Woo Yen Yen

Former lawyer turned writer/cartoonist Colin Goh and educator Joyceln Woo are married and have been living in New York for the past three years.


COLIN & JOYCELN: We fell in love and in June 1998, we got married - true Singaporean style. The studio photography, the clothes, church, the dinner and the hundred of guests that we had never met before. What happened to us after that was not so typically Singaporean. Here are our stories.

JOYCELN: As a child, I could never sleep the night before the first day of school. The night before my first day of teaching was no different. I didn’t know what to expect but I knew that I was going to help kids learn, be the best teacher, and make a difference.

At my first staff meeting, the principal screened an image familiar to all new schoolteachers - the Prism. Like a magical crystal ball, the Prism told many things. It could predict how well students entering secondary school with 4 subjects at PSLE would do for the ‘O’ levels. With the Prism, we could evaluate each student’s potential grade in literature based on his/her PSLE grades and then tell if our school had “added value” to the child’s education.

Looking into the Prism, the principal announced that while she was concerned about the various aspects of development - Intellectual, Aesthetic, Moral, and Physical - “This year, our school will focus on the Intellectual.” By this, she meant that as teachers, we should all ensure that we stretched the potential of the students so that they performed “better than expected” at the ‘O’ levels. I noticed in the subsequent years that we never decided to focus on any other aspect of development. There was never an Aesthetic, Moral or Physical year.

The conversations in the staff room educated me considerably about the concerns of teachers.

“Oh, I heard you bought the new condo in Bukit Batok, that’s a good investment…”

“So which piano school are you sending your child to now?”

“Do you want to go buy diamonds with us, we are going to buy diamonds this afternoon.”

In my naïveté, this came as a shock. Why weren’t teachers talking about helping students learn or improving instruction?

And when they WERE talking about improving instruction, it was invariably:

“So what questions do you think will come out for this year’s ‘O’ levels?”

“Yes! Yes! I spotted the right questions!”

“You have to make sure your students write 5 ‘compositions’ and do 5 ‘comprehensions’ this semester.”

And when questions were asked, the answer was inevitably “Can’t change. That’s what the principal wants to see.”

The culture in the staff room was a mix of different groups:

· the Tai-Tais, women who had married well-off husbands, and who admired, respected and competed with each other for their Ferragamo shoes and Louis Vuitton bags.

· the few unmarried men who were mothered by the Tai-Tais as they were regarded as “good” men (i.e. hardworking and honest) but ironically insufficiently compelling marriage material (for why on earth would a functioning, virile, desirable man become a teacher?).

· the married men who usually lived in HDB flats (unlike the Tai-Tais and their non-teacher husbands), who generally kept to themselves.

· the older single women who were diligent in ensuring that all forms are handed in on time and helping students who need extra help get the preferred grades. They were usually more conservatively (and cheaply) dressed, and did not generally interact socially with the Tai-Tais.

· the expatriate teachers who were generally avoided by the other teachers and not expected to do very much because they either could not be trusted to do the work, were too difficult to communicate with, or were too troublesome to work with. And when they got together, they made plain their disdain for Singapore and its school system of which they were a part. Stereotypical as it may sound, those I’d met had invariably come to Singapore either to heal from a broken marriage (in which case, getting involved with a local woman usually came with the package), or had fled an unsuccessful career so they could return home and say, “I spent a few years in the Orient.”

· And the young teachers, bright-eyed and bushytailed, who believed they could make a difference, and who usually started out immensely popular with the students. They organized extra activities which they were not required to do, sat with students for long hours when they had problems, and generally tried to innovate with teaching. The Tai-Tais usually tried to matchmake the young single female teachers with single men they knew, but never the single male teachers. Seasoned teachers generally sat back and placed bets on when the neophytes would eventually burn out.

I didn’t know a single lazy teacher - everyone was extremely hardworking, taking work home, often physically running around as they hurried to different parts of the school. The teachers hardly had time to rest and reflect. It was as if we had been trained to work hard, but not to think.

What unites Secondary 4 teachers is the common goal of ensuring their students score well in the ‘O’ levels - preferably better in the subject that they teach rather than in another subject. Success is defined largely in terms of how many As produced in their class.

I remember one year distinctly - the school had done well in history and the Sec 4 history teacher was jumping up and down in glee, like she had won a war. On the other hand, the students hadn’t done as well in literature and the teacher was walking around with her head down, wishing that the bulletin board with the results didn’t place the teacher’s name next to the results of each class. While everyone congratulated the history teacher on doing well in spotting the right questions, we all didn’t know what to say to the literature teacher. We sort of patted her shoulder as if someone had died.

And for non-Sec 4 teachers, our overriding concern was assigning the required number of tests and exercises and grading them. Each semester, all our students had to submit binders containing their completed and graded assignments. And each semester, the teachers would spend several days of class time ensuring that the students had everything in place, as the submission of completed binders were a factor in a teacher’s evaluation. The binders would disappear for months because it would take the Head of Department that long to go through the binders and count how many assignments had been completed. It didn’t seem to matter if the teacher had taken 5 minutes to grade each composition or 30 minutes to make sure that the students received meaningful feedback. What was important was that the assignments were there.

I felt both angry and guilty that my idealism constantly came up against so many artificial obstacles. I felt that the obsession with bookkeeping and papering over any mistakes, real or perceived, allowed neither time nor space for innovation. Further, the mania to deliver standardized results trumped the notion of harnessing individual potential, of the teachers and the students.
Worse, I felt I could not raise these issues. There was a culture of silence.

My experiences are not about bad principals or teachers in particular. It is about ways of being and seeing that represent to me, the Singapore legacy that I have inherited. The principals and teachers that I talked about are not to blame individually - it is just so difficult to be and to see otherwise in the busy-ness, routines, and duties of our everyday lives.

I decided to leave to pursue graduate studies. Teacher education in Singapore is tilted more to the vocational than the intellectual and I wanted the space, time and knowledge to help me articulate and frame what I was thinking and feeling. On a more pragmatic level, I knew that nobody took the feelings of groundling teachers seriously and that people would probably listen to me more if I had a doctorate. I was disappointed, but still hopeful.

COLIN: I remember my first visit to New York. I had just graduated in law from University College London, and had several months before I was scheduled to take the English bar exams. Where most of my friends had chosen to do attachments with Singaporean law firms with the prudent aim of acclimatizing themselves with the career-to-come, I was paralysed with a single, terrible thought: "These are the last few months I'll ever have to indulge my youthful passions."

In an impulsive moment, and much to my parents’ annoyance, I blew every last cent I had and wangled myself a place in a cartooning course at Manhattan's School of Visual Art. I had been cartooning for The New Paper for several years by then (my comic strip The Concrete Jungle continues to run in their august pages), but had no formal training.

I chose Manhattan because it was supposed to be the cynosure of the creative world, and most important of all, where Marvel and DC Comics had their headquarters. Where else would one study cartooning but in Spiderman's territory?

Those few months were the most mind-blowing of my life. By day, I was either sequestered in a musty studio sketching Brazilian women or wandering the varied New York neighbourhoods. By night, I hung out with the other residents of the international hostel I was staying at - a diverse crowd of students from Argentina to Kazakhstan and everywhere in between. I had always thought Singapore to be a model of diversity and cosmopolitan progress, but over countless milkshake-fueled discussions in East Village hangouts, I felt like the proverbial mountain tortoise.

It was also the first time I began to question the path I was about to take. I was meeting people who were taking chances and simply following the dictates of their passion, whether it was art, dance or securities.

I had studied law largely because it was often cited it as the next best thing after medicine, which I knew I'd be awful at. Besides, SM Lee was a lawyer. What better endorsement could a Singaporean have? Despite being a published cartoonist and writer by then, I never thought about a career in the arts. It was a completely nonexistent option.

What was worse was that my parents never forced me into law. I just read their minds, I guess. Besides, all my friends seemed to be doing it too. It was the Singaporean Dream.

I also remember in my first year in law school, my parents telling me about SM Lee's now seminal "If I were an undergraduate" speech, where he told JC students that were he a student now, he would not study law; he would be an engineer, join the civil service, then obtain an MBA and thereafter enter the private sector. SM Lee had switched from Coke to Pepsi. There was a New Dream.

For a moment, I thought, well, if I'm yesterday’s man, I might as well deviate from the path altogether. However, that year, the Singapore government decided it had too many lawyers and restricted the number of recognized overseas law schools. A rumour began spreading amongst the legal undergrad community that it wouldn't be long before they didn't recognize British qualifications altogether. We had to hurry and enter the Singapore workforce as soon as possible, before we were shut out. (As we now know, the rumour was unfounded, and Singapore now admits it needs more lawyers.)

Nevertheless, out of prudence, I shelved any thought of changing fields and became a barrister, then an advocate and solicitor of the Supreme Court of Singapore.

I joined a large law firm, again largely because it was commonly believed that it was good to bloody oneself in the trenches of the giants. I practiced shipping law, again an extremely prudent choice, what with our being the world's busiest port. Further, it was perceived as exciting because shipping lawyers often had to go out to sea to arrest ships. (In truth, arresting ships is not vastly different from what loansharks do when they hang pig's heads on debtors' doors.)

I had a decent, almost enviable, income. I had to keep telling myself that, because the lifestyle was neither decent nor enviable.
Clients called me at 2 am in the morning. The High Court Registry nicknamed me "Mr. 5 O'Clock" because I regularly filed papers right under the guillotine, never of my own volition. My only pleasure was catching up on industry gossip while waiting in line to argue before the court registrars. There was not a single Chinese New Year holiday where I would not find myself in the office. My parents only caught fleeting glimpses of me early in the morning when I rushed to work, or late at night, when I stumbled in, surly and mentally exhausted. I saw Joyceln, then simply my girlfriend, for a few precious, stolen hours on Sundays.

But I had the job, and more important, the income. They brought me a measure of social acceptability. Parents' friends would nod approvingly, non-lawyer friends would remark how much lower their salaries were. I made enough to afford membership in a club I never had time to step into, and for season parking in town. I had credit cards and designer ties. I could share war stories about work that might have seemed glamourous to non-lawyer friends, weaned as they were on a diet of Ally McBeal. I was in the secure embrace of the Singaporean Dream.

My epiphany came as I was descending the gangway of a very large oil tanker. At a height of ten storeys or more, the gangway abruptly slipped its moorings and fell several feet. I found myself in mid air for several terrifying seconds. Luckily the crew managed to secure it again. As I retrieved my dropped manhood, I saw bits of the vessel fall into the sea below. If I had not held tight to the chains, I would be dead.

When I told my colleagues about it, no one batted an eyelid. It was simply one of the hazards of the job, like the long hours and the symbolic fellating of clients. Some even quipped, "Who says law isn't exciting?" But working late that night in the stale air of my office, surrounded by musty documents and lit by the sickly iridescence of my computer monitor, I knew I had to get out.
My brush with death made me reflect on my life, as I suppose all encounters with the reaper must do. I realized I was unhappy. Not weeping-and-gnashing-of-teeth unhappy, just that dull ache of uninspiration. Yet, on paper, I should have been completely content.

My conviction was reinforced when I passed my boss's office and saw her toiling away. Much more senior, she was still keeping the crazy hours of a junior lawyer. She had a brilliant mind, equity in a giant and prestigious firm and a sizeable income, but I realized that I didn't aspire to her lifestyle. And she was by no means unique. If I did not aspire to be my boss, then what was the point? My life stretched before my eyes, and I did not want to take another step in its direction.

I then made a classic Singaporean evaluation: if I'm going to suffer, then by god, I'll suffer for more money. I figured American lawyers make the most money, so that's where I'll go. I decided the fastest way to do this would be to do a one year Master’s degree, preferably in an Ivy League university, since it would provide me ingress into the American market.

I spoke to Joyceln, and told her that the only place I wanted to go was New York, because I wanted to recapture a little of that energy I had felt years ago. Despite some reservations (New York has a not wholly undeserved reputation), we both applied to Columbia University, New York’s only Ivy League university. Miraculously, we were both accepted.

We quit our jobs, got married, emptied our bank accounts and left immediately.

JOYCELN: When applying to do my doctorate at Columbia's famous Teachers College, I spoke to several professors at the only education institution in Singapore to find out about possible financial support. I had intended to study curriculum and technology, and felt my experience teaching as well as a stint designing educational software in an IT firm would be valuable.

However, the door was abruptly slammed in my face when I was told over the phone, "If you are not in computer science, and not a first class graduate, there is nothing we need to talk about."

Perhaps spurred by anger, I worked like a demon at Teachers College and earned several academic awards, including a doctoral research fellowship which covered both tuition and a stipend, and came unencumbered by any bond, moral or otherwise. The myopia with which I had been treated had ironically turned out to be a blessing.

I even met with our Education Minister when he visited Teachers College. Of the questions he asked me, two stood out: "When are you going back to Singapore?" and "When are you going to have babies?" It hit me that I had never spoken to the Minister when I was teaching in Singapore. I wondered: am I valuable to the country only after I leave?

COLIN: Armed with a Masters from Columbia Law School and the grandiose title of "Harlan Fiske Stone Scholar" which Columbia had over-generously bestowed upon me, and having passed the New York bar exams, I knocked on the doors of some of the largest law firms in the world.

I recall one battery of interviews being carried out in a large hotel, where prospective lawyers would shuttle in and out of the rooms, each occupied by interviewers from the firms.

A fellow prospector asked me, "Which other profession requires you to shuttle from hotel room to hotel room?"

"Prostitution," I remarked, and we both laughed.

It proved a prophetic statement, for when touring the offices of prospective firms, instead of feeling pumped, I felt horrified by the all-too familiar office layout, the mounds of paper spilling onto the floor, the designer suits thrown over the backs of chairs.
The last straw came when a partner of one Midtown firm patted me on the back and said, "I think you'd be perfect to help work on our port project out in Saudi Arabia!"

It suddenly hit me that I was not embarking on real change at all. I was merely rearranging the furniture. Like a good little boy, I had made all the pragmatic, sensible decisions… and it was about to push me into the abyss. I was still trying to achieve the Singaporean Dream, except overseas, and on a larger scale. Well, not exactly…

It was then that I understood the difference between the Singaporean Dream and the Singaporean Plan. And what is the difference?
I suppose the Dream has to be one of searching for peace and the liberty to conduct one's life as one sees fit.

That's probably what my ancestors sought when they left China: the governments of the Ming and Manchu were ruthlessly restrictive of cross-border commerce, the lifeblood of my ethnic Hokkien and Teochew forbears.

And no doubt it was the Dream, fueled by hard work and courage, that has made Singapore the indisputable commercial success it is today. And our story is a wonderful one: the Little Island That Could.

However, invariably once people attain success, they start to canonize the steps they took to achievement. This is how Dreams become Plans, and how one hegemony replaces another: the search for peace and liberty becomes get into a good school, then a good university, then a stable job, then buy property and stock. The problem is, then what?

There is nothing inherently unique about the Singaporean Dream. The American Dream of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness is substantially the same. (And especially in the upper middle class, the American Dream is fast becoming a Plan too: prep school, Ivy League, Wall Street.)

But what to me gives America more hope is that they still celebrate mavericks; they may never find happiness, but their liberty to pursue it is sacred.

My experience in Singapore was, however, very different. There were always people telling you what and how you should do things, and imposing penalties for deviation. There were 'right' schools, 'right' professions, 'right' strategies.

Of course there are those who would argue that ultimately, the choice is one’s own and that there is nothing to prevent one from doing what he or she wants in Singapore. After all, isn’t it one’s fault for caving in to peer pressure? I would humbly submit that while theoretically true, such an argument betrays an ignorance of the combined workings of hegemony and power.

The issue is how expansive the reigning ideology is. In Singapore, the dominant view is to do whatever works (whatever that may be, and regardless of who it worked for). In New York (I won't pretend that America is homogeneous), the prevailing view is that everyone should find what makes him or herself unique, and capitalize on that.

Manhattan is smaller than Singapore, yet there is space for both Wall Street Wizards and Alphabet City Shamans to coexist. Despite occasional border skirmishes, there is recognition that the city would be a lot poorer if everyone marched to the same drum.
An overly romantic myth? Perhaps. But that such a myth could persist in a hostile and cynical environment like New York, was encouraging to me. And anyway, the 'fulfillment' promised by the Singapore Plan was equally illusory. In a competition of myths, I chose the one that gave the most latitude to one's passions over the one that indulged one's fears.

JOYCELN: I think the most striking thing about New York is that so many people here are in transition. They don’t know where they are going to be or what they are going to be doing in 6 months’ time. But they are all working towards their individual dreams, in their own individual way, and not according to some mandated blueprint or destination.

The receptionist in my building is also an actor. I recently met a waitress who was a graduate student in philosophy. I have classmates who are not only still at work, but who also shoot films whenever they can.

Until New York, I didn’t know I could be poor and still volunteer to help others who are more needy than me - not tomorrow, or next year, or when my income reaches a certain level, but today.

I now tutor the children in my neighborhood who need help but can't afford to pay. I didn’t know how great it feels to be able to write, and express my anger, worries, and joys. I didn't know that if I am dissatisfied by policies, I can get together with others to express it.

Just last week, there was a public school that was boycotting a state-mandated test because the test was taking away precious instructional time. What a novel idea! I didn’t know I was not alone, that there are other Singaporeans who think like I do, who want to make a difference but who are afraid and are so used to being silent.

COLIN: The insidiousness is this: in adhering to the Singaporean Plan, I was acting pragmatically, but ultimately, dishonestly.

As late as the interlude between pupilage and practice, I had written a play that was performed for the Singapore Arts Festival Fringe, for which the British Council had sponsored me to attend the Royal Court Theatre in London's prestigious theatre school. Further, throughout my years of practice, I also managed to continue cartooning The Concrete Jungle. While I enjoyed writing and drawing, never for a second did I think this might be a career. Worse, I felt compelled to downgrade their importance in my life. First was money, then pleasure. It was simply un-Singaporean to think one could get pleasure without money, or that working should be pleasurable.

But now I refuse to postpone my dreams any further, and shelve them under some misguided notion of pragmatism. How often was I told as a child by my elders, "wait till you grow up," "wait till after exams", "wait till after you graduate". I do not desire to wait until I retire. I might not make it that far. I refuse to be a walking mid-life crisis in the making.

But living one's dreams is difficult because it is a lone undertaking. There is no such thing as shared dreams; they are personal creatures. And while my peers are making partner and buying cars, I live in rented student accommodation and scatter my work to the ocean of publications, hoping for a bite. Thus far, I have only been published a couple of times, far from being enough to pay the rent. Yet I do not feel despair. Trite as it may sound, I recognize that life is about the journey, and not the destination.

JOYCELN: In Singapore, a considerable amount of talk in education has been about continuing to be competitive in the global marketplace. Singapore seems to have done well in this respect - we have consistently come in first in the International Math and Science Study.

But in tandem with the fear of losing out on notional global competitiveness is the willingness of many educators, policy-makers, and parents to "train" the young to delay their dreams, desires and play for a future goal, to "wait till after you finish your homework," to "wait till after the exams" while at the same time plying them with material bribes.

On the global front, it is ironic that the US is trying to emphasize academic standards while Japan, who also finished in the top ranks of the International Math and Science Study, is trying to cut down on the curriculum to allow more time for play. Both cite global competitiveness as their reason for doing so. One wonders as a country, whether we are listening to the everyday experiences of our own children, parents and teachers, or simply responding to some speculative construction of what is needed to be competitive.

Can anyone say for sure what's needed? Only a few months ago, countries cried out for schools to produce more dotcommers. A look at the rollercoaster line that is the NASDAQ should be cause for circumspection.

There are signs that children in Singapore are straining under this ethos. Recent newspapers reports have reported that parents are spending an inordinate amount of money and time to send their children for after-school tuition so that they can achieve better results; scoring high marks in tests and exams have been found to be a top concern for students; the average 10 year-old has been found to spend 6 hours in school and up to 8 hours on homework and tuition each day, and, students have been reported to experience physical reactions such as diarrhoea and asthma attacks during or just before exams. Is this education, or child labor? Has scoring well in tests become the reason for tests themselves? How do teachers, parents, and teachers begin to imagine our lives differently?

COLIN: I think it is important not to wholly discredit the Singapore Plan. It worked for some and may yet work for others. However, it is also true that the road to hell is paved with good intentions and that it is always an error to confuse what is with what ought to be.

JOYCELN: Consider these 2 stories. Which is closer to yours?

You wake up everyday and work from Monday to Friday, and often, Saturday too. If you finish work early, you and your partner go to your parents’ place for dinner and see your child for a few hours. If you work late, you buy a packet of char kway teow from the hawker centre but eat it at home because it’s too warm to eat there. You’re not crazy about the job but you know that if you keep at it, you can afford a car in 3 years’ time, and in 5 years’ time, buy a condo close to the primary school you want to send your kid to. Your conversations with people are either for the purpose of networking, work, or for familial obligations you cannot avoid. On weekends, you play golf with your friends at your country club or watch a movie with your partner. Once a year, you go on a ten day vacation to New York, London, or Paris, and when your children are big enough, Disneyland.

Alternatively, you wake up and you have no idea what is going to happen today, tomorrow, 6 months or a year later. Ironically, because of this uncertainty, all possibilities exist for you. You can be the Prime Minister of Singapore, you can make a movie, you can cook a meal you have never cooked before, eat at a place you have never eaten before, you can color your hair red, you can skip instead of walk, you can volunteer at the school you have always wanted to volunteer at, you can write a book, or you can have a baby even though you don’t have a maid. You have conversations with people who set your heart palpitating and your mind on fire. Your weekday is not so different from your weekend because everyday you are thinking, creating, and more important, imagining.

Most of us recognize the first story and its pursuit of the 5 Cs of “cash, condo, car, country club, credit card.” It is the Plan, which imposes a conclusion on you, and you work in order to make all the pieces fit. A bus stop advertisement I saw recently said it best: "We spend all our youth chasing money, and when we attain it, we spend all our money chasing youth."

A Dream, on the other hand, carries you on its wings to worlds that your heart and mind have never known.

COLIN: My fault was accepting that the Plan would naturally work for me. One doesn’t have to accept a legacy one inherits. I was complicit in my unhappiness. I did not question enough, whether it was my elders, the government, newspapers, consultants, whatever. I foolishly let others make up my mind for me. I rather fear I am not alone in this folly.

If there is any blame to be laid, it is the upholding of a compliant, unquestioning culture; that some people should never be challenged because of age, status or whatever. It is not solely the establishment's fault; all political parties are entitled to play politics. But it is wholly our fault for not fighting for what we believe in.

COLIN & JOYCELN: Criticism and disagreement is not treason, and our words emanate as much from our dissatisfaction with, as our love for Singapore. We simply believe that we are more than our legacy. This is the dream of immigrants everywhere, whether they arrive in Singapore or on Ellis Island.

The School of the Future is the result of a unique collaboration between the School District of Philadelphia, Microsoft Corp. and the community of West Philadelphia that will deliver a new approach to curriculum and school design and the infusion of technology into the daily lives of educators and learners. The school is a state-of-the-art working example of this public-private partnership, featuring a progressive and research-based curriculum, integrated technology, and environmentally advanced architecture. What’s more, the entire project was completed within the strict confines of a standard urban public-school budget.

- What we have proven through this project is that the ‘School of the Future’ is not too futuristic or out of reach. This is how schools of today can and should be designed and developed to adequately prepare students for life and work. I hope the school leaders who come and see what we’ve accomplished here in Philadelphia walk away saying, ‘We can do that, too, and we can start now, said Paul Vallas, CEO of the School District of Philadelphia.

For the 170 freshman students who will make up the first School of the Future graduating class of 2010, today’s opening signifies new hope and opportunity through an experience that will involve the whole community in the educational environment and encourage college attendance. The opening class selection was based on an open lottery and pulls from area neighborhoods, making this a truly local school. The class has a nearly 99 percent minority population, and approximately 85 percent of the students come from low income families.

- Today it is more important than ever for companies — especially those in the technology industry — to help global educators meet future economic and social needs. Information technology will enable our schools to meet the challenges of the 21st century by creating more personalized learning experiences, said Craig Mundie, chief research and strategy officer at Microsoft.

- The School of the Future shows how public and private partnerships can yield new thinking and sustainable change in educational systems around the world.

Global Influence and Impact

Building on the work done in Philadelphia, Microsoft is helping other school leaders around the country and world plan their own schools of the future through quarterly briefings and annual global forums. The next quarterly briefing will be held Sept. 12–13 in New York, where experts will discuss the next steps for potential expansion of the School of the Future concept. The next global forum is scheduled for Nov. 13–15 at the Philadelphia school.

Through Microsoft’s U.S. Partners in Learning — part of the company’s global effort to work with state governments, local schools, teachers and partners to establish a sustainable foundation for continued advances in education and learning — the School of the Future project has created education-specific tools for school administrators, faculty and the community in which they live and work.

The instructional, environmental, architectural and technical elements are all focused on building a sustainable, curriculum-driven setting to help students learn and help teachers and administrators succeed. These findings, designed by a global team of educational experts, included feedback from students, educators, parents and community members, and are available for public use to encourage broad implementation and benefit.

Bringing Technology to the Classroom and Community

From smart-card-accessible lockers to a Tablet PC for every student (including wireless access at school and broadband access at home), the school incorporates advances aimed to expand the whole educational experience. The technology is an integral part of bringing together the students, teachers, parents and community and not just a parade of new gadgetry. A rigorous planning process allowed the school district and the community to identify the educational needs first and then determine where and how technology could address them.

For example, the Virtual Teaching Assistant, created by Microsoft specifically for the school, provides teachers with active, online tracking to target student progress and development areas. Through teacher-distributed assessments the software gauges the progress of each student individually, and allows deeper instruction for the advanced student and more review for those needing additional time with a topic. Other innovative elements include the media-rich classrooms and the Interactive Learning Center, which replaces the traditional library — allowing content to be constantly updated, in essence creating textbooks with local, regional and global information that is always refreshed and never out of date.

In addition to the educational resources available to the students — from the Interactive Learning to the smart classrooms and personalized media portals — the building itself incorporates the latest advances in environmental design including a water catchment system on the roof, where rainwater will be collected and used for nonpotable applications. Photovoltaic panels in the glass windows and roof will also reduce heating and cooling costs by converting sunlight into a direct current, contributing electricity for the building and transmitting real-time data for students so they can see the positive impact on the environment.

Rethinking All Elements of School Reform and Education

Incorporating technology into the learning process was just one step in rethinking school reform efforts nationwide. Starting from the design process and continuing through the administration and education processes, the school district and Microsoft teamed to incorporate best practices from business, not often found in a traditional education administrative environment, into the overall School of the Future design. The result included an industry expert-developed Education Competency Wheel, which is a guide for identifying and nurturing the right talents in a district’s employees, partners and students. The Education Competency Wheel, which could be used by educators anywhere, outlines the success factors and critical attributes required for key positions within any educational environment. Microsoft also contributed best practices guidance through both a full-time project manager and a technical advisor.

- It is better that Microsoft didn’t simply write the school district a big check. Education is too big an issue for any one organization to tackle by itself, and the hands-on contributions of a partner like Microsoft will prove to be worth more than any dollar amount, said James Nevels, chairman of the Philadelphia School Reform Commission.

- This collaboration accomplished in three years what no single entity has ever been able to do alone.

Community-Based Learning

Taking advantage of its location and emphasizing the importance of the School of the Future’s role in the community, the building and the school’s curriculum are designed to interact with and contribute to West Philadelphia. For the students, the school and curriculum will take advantage of local resources including the nearby park, museum and zoo. For the community, the school will be broadly available as a resource to host continuing education activities and specially designed courses for family members to learn some of the student curriculum. Further, the school houses a customizable performance center with two hydraulically-rotating lecture halls to create small performing spaces for school and community performances.

WHEN Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong, in his National Day Rally speech, recounted how his children did their homework, there were a few chuckles among parents in the audience.

Back in the old days, Mr Lee recalled, he did his homework in a quiet place, focusing his attention on one thing at a time. But when his children did theirs, they have the music on, chat with friends online and surf several websites at once. 'Now, children are multi-tasking, at least they tell me they are,' he said, with a wry smile.

Acknowledging that there is a gap between his generation and his children's, he said: 'It's a different way of thinking, a different approach to life.'

Indeed, for the average 15-year-old today, downloading music, playing computer games for hours and chatting with friends online is perfectly normal. Teenagers do their homework, listen to music and play online games while writing their blogs - simultaneously and effortlessly.

Welcome to the world of the digital native - one that many parents cannot fully comprehend. It came about as a result of how digital technology has socialised children from young, according to a number of digital evangelists.

One such person, Mr Marc Prensky, chief executive officer of educational software maker Games2train, has said that digital technology has split people into two different types.

One group are the 'natives' of the digital world, who are completely at ease with the new wave of technology, having been brought up on a staple of MTV, mobile phones and the Internet.

Digital 'immigrants', on the other hand, still have one foot in the analog world, and are not completely comfortable with digital culture - even if they use it for work.

The digital divide goes beyond simply how differently each generation uses technology. Growing up constantly exposed to digital technology has affected and changed the way natives think, Mr Prensky has argued.

A 2005 survey by the non-profit research organisation Kaiser Family Foundation (KFF) found that American teens spent an average of six-and-a-half hours a day on the Internet. An earlier study by the KFF showed that children also start using the computer at a relatively young age - as young as four.

In fact, more than a third of four- to six-year-olds use the computer several times a week. About four in 10 in this age group can turn on the computer by themselves, and 40 per cent can load a CD-ROM.

A separate study in 2005 by the Pew Internet and American Life Project, which is intended to monitor the impact of the Internet on American society, showed that nine in 10 teens aged between 12 and 17 have access to the Internet.

What are they doing online? Some eight in 10 play games, while seven in 10 look for information and news. Add to that a host of other activities that teens do online - like socialising on networking sites like MySpace and Friendster, blogging, creating and uploading videos, downloading music - and they can almost seem to older folk like they come from a different planet altogether.

With so much time spent online, the digital native develops certain traits and abilities - like being able to multi-task and sift through information quickly. They also become quickly bored if there is little interactivity, according to Mr Prensky.

A survey in July, conducted by Bloomberg and the Los Angeles Times, of teens and young adults bears out his theories. Three in five of young people aged 12 to 24 said they prefer to multi-task rather than focus on one thing at a time. Half of those polled said multi-tasking relieves boredom.

The digital natives are making their habits felt not just to their parents or teachers, but also in the commercial world.

The newspaper industry is facing its toughest crisis yet with digital natives heading online for news. Many newspapers are scrambling to adapt and to tap the Internet to keep readers, especially younger ones, hooked.

Big advertising companies are warning of the demise of traditional advertising. They say consumers are no longer influenced by traditional ad messages like 30-second television commercials. So to overcome the short attention spans of the digital native, a brand must be distilled in as few words as possible.

The digital native's 'brain is physically different. It has rewired itself. It responds faster. It sifts out. It recalls less', said Mr Maurice Saatchi, executive director of M&C Saatchi, in an online question-and-answer session with readers of the Financial Times website.

His solution: a single word brand, which his advertising firm terms 'one-word equity', to capture the imagination of the digital native.

In education, it may mean that children need to be taught differently.

Schools in Singapore are already being fully equipped with computers, while students in higher education are doing their work and 'attending' lectures online.

The videos shown during the National Day Rally, created by students from St Joseph's Convent, show how creative juices can be exploited with the use of technology. Singaporeans were impressed by what they saw, especially the older generation.

One senior citizen told me he would never have been able to imagine those videos. 'These kids nowadays, they can do so much that I don't think I can,' he said.

His comments raise an interesting question: Can the digital divide be bridged or is it something that will remain between generations? And what are the implications if it cannot?

Being 26, and with one foot in the digital age and the other in the analog period, perhaps I can offer some insight. For people my age, the Internet did not arrive until we were in our mid-teens. Yet we quickly adopted it.

I cannot function without my mobile phone and broadband. I've even forged several relationships, including romantic ones, over the Internet.

But even I feel the gap between myself and someone in his or her teens today. For one thing, I don't completely understand the Internet lingo that teenagers use. The language defies all rules of the English language, from spelling to grammar - even though it looks like English.

A typical example: YestErdDay I wuz at e shoPPin center n me saw e sing idols! paul 2hill rOxOrs and stuffs! luv hiM lolz. (Rough translation: I was at the shopping centre yesterday when I saw the Singapore Idol contestants! Paul Twohill is great and all! I love him haha.)

The divide is real and if something is not done about it, we could have a situation where one generation finds it tough to talk to the other.

Prime Minister Lee recognised this when he urged Government agencies to get online and to reach out to the digital natives by using art, wit and humour in podcasts and vodcasts.

Beyond the mere act of 'immigrating' to the digital world, there is also the need to package what one says to this generation of netizens.

What this means is that traditional sources of authority can no longer tell people what to do. They have to put up strong, compelling arguments with a touch of humour and fun. And they have to live with some of the more unpleasant noises online.

For example, the position that politics is a serious business and therefore politicians cannot be made fun of, will unfortunately not hold much water with many digital denizens.

Happily, if history is anything to go by, human beings adapt extraordinarily fast, so gaps between people are quickly closed.

To assume there is no chance for a digital immigrant to fully convert into a native is overstating the problem. After all, many real-life immigrants here end up speaking Singlish, eating durian and living in HDB flats.

In fact, judging by the people I speak with, many digital immigrants are adapting nicely. One of them, a 70-year-old friend, says he gets up at six every morning to check an online current affairs forum he moderates called Globalogue. He also gets his dose of international news online and sends e-mail to his daughter in the United States everyday.

So, perhaps the digital divide is just a symptom of a world in transition with many digital immigrants still reluctant to move to the new world.

For now, I still prefer reading my favourite books without the distraction of computer games or music. But increasingly, I am resorting to e-books on my computer, which saves space on my bookshelf.

Now, that's the best of both worlds. This digital immigrant is fast going native.

PRIME Minister Lee Hsien Loong's compelling vision for education, 'Every child's talent is valued: PM' (ST, Sept 1), makes inspiring and refreshing reading.

In no uncertain terms, he correctly pointed out that the effectiveness of our education system would be defined by its ability to equip our children with the capabilities to cope successfully with 'a changing world'.

Indeed, the future world of dynamic changes and uncertainties demands urgent education review. Schools must now equip our children with the ability to learn without being taught.

Three areas have to be addressed as we set out to realise PM Lee's vision for excellence in education.

Firstly, the examination orientation of our education system means that generations of students have grown up lacking soul and passion for things outside the exam syllabus. Most employers found that they show little curiosity about things and events in their proximate communities and the world.

Their lack of curiosity produces an uncritical mind that listens without attempting to examine the limits and applications of what they hear. They are therefore unable to learn by themselves without being taught.

Education should produce individuals able to think for themselves and who do not merely follow what someone else has told them. Teaching should excite youngsters' natural curiosity, and set them on the road to more self-discovery through self-learning.

PM Lee said in his 2004 National Day Rally speech: 'We've got to teach less to our students so that they will learn more. Grades are important - don't forget to pass your exams - but grades are not the only thing in life and there are other things in life which we want to learn in school.'

However, little in the school curriculum has been reduced. Teachers and principals continue to 'push' students to know contents which are beyond the scope of their curriculum. Principals and teachers often compete with other schools for awards and recognition by setting ever tougher exam papers for their students at the expense of their self-esteem and learning.

Secondly, parents should be made active 'partners' in education matters, instead of having to engage the services of tuition centres and tutors to compensate for their children's lack of learning in the classroom. Schools' preoccupation with 'teaching' instead of 'learning' has turned the tuition industry into an unhealthy 'shadow education system'.

Parent support groups and parents-teachers associations should be genuinely engaged in the tasks to transform PM Lee's vision into reality. They are currently relegated to fund-raising and fun fairs or other inconsequential activities not related to adding impact to the education of their children.

Thirdly, a new breed of school leaders is critical. Principals cannot afford to remain merely 'administrative' leaders who spend most of their time compiling statistics and preparing reports for their superiors; they have to become the true leaders of their people and talent developers of their teachers.

The 'new' principal should involve his teachers in decision-making.

Teachers performance-management practices should be reviewed critically. Open appraisal practices, teachers' appraisal of their principals, a more transparent system of promotion, abolition of 'secret' staff reports that contain unvalidated staff incidents and a more open teacher transfer system should all be reviewed and some practices discarded.

Truly, the goal of education 'excellence' is to prepare our children for a life of active citizenship, and empowering them to become better persons with choices for brighter and more successful futures.

PM Lee's vision for education demands urgent school reviews and education reforms to create in our children a 'readiness for the world'.

THE Ministry of Education (MOE) is on the look out for people, including mid-career workers, with a passion for teaching and a record of achievement in their own field.

They may not 'fit cookie cutter requirements' but the ministry is more than willing to take them in and nuture them to become teachers, Education Minister Tharman Shanmugaratnam said yesterday.

'Let's take him or her in and groom them to be teachers. We are investing more in professional development than any other country in the world.'

Already one out of every eight, or 12 per cent of new teacher recruits are mid-career entrants, who join the profession 'brimming with enthusiasm', he added.

He was speaking to reporters after the Taman Jurong Community Club open house yesterday morning.The minister, who will be addressing over 5,000 teachers at the Teachers' Mass Lecture at the Singapore Expo today, noted that professional development, including for mid-career workers, would be among the ministry's priorities.

Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong had hinted in his Teachers' Day Rally speech last Thursday that details on the steps MOE would take to make teaching an attractive career would be out in a few days.

Elaborating on the need to develop first-rate teachers, Mr Tharman said that professional development would ensure teachers were able to reach new peaks. He also disclosed that he is likely to take up the issue of remuneration and rewards.

'That's something we do from time to time - make sure we have a good sense of the market benchmarks, make sure that we keep adjusting teachers' remuneration. Not just things like starting pay but really along the way,' he said.

The MOE wants to retain good teachers and recruit more, so that they will have more time and room to focus on their role as educators.

MOE, he said, was on track to reaching its 30,000-strong teaching force by 2010. Today, there are around 27,000 teachers.

'Then, we allow teachers to focus on what they feel they can do best,' Mr Tharman said.

FRESH-faced Benjamin Lin, 17, clad in a fetching red shirt, declares: 'National Education is boring. It is propaganda.'

The Secondary 5 student from Anglo-Chinese School (Barker Road) looks at the other five around him, and adds:

'I truly understand that the Government is doing a good job. We’re prospering, we’re forward-looking.

'But it comes off as propaganda. They’re forcing you to learn this because they want you to know how good they’re doing and how you should vote them in again. Like, there is an entire chapter on good governance.'

His senior by 27 years, also a former ACS boy, nods and concedes: 'It is indeed the truth - to a certain extent.'

The others grin.

It could be any other session of students trashing the education system. Except that the man responding is Rear-Admiral (NS) Lui Tuck Yew, who was appointed Minister of State for Education in May.

Insight organised the informal chat at a Holland Village ice-cream cafe, to let the students quiz the new MOS in a no-holds-barred fashion, in front of The Straits Times.

RADM Lui, a father of two girls aged 13 and 10, did not hesitate, seeing in the encounter an opportunity to engage his constituents.

His role in MOE is threefold: he oversees primary and secondary schools and junior colleges. He heads the English Language Review Committee to improve the teaching of the English language.

And last week, he was asked to chair a committee to review the National Education (NE) programme introduced in 1997.

Through social studies and other subjects, this programme aims to foster a sense of national identity, and help students understand the challenges facing Singapore.

Is National Education working?

Tan Yee Ling, 21, from the Institute of Technical Education, thinks so. She enjoys the subject through activities such as role-playing.

But Muhammad Nabil, 15, a Secondary 3 student from Raffles Institution, says: 'I don't think it’s effective.'

Citing a recent lesson on what the red and white of the Singapore flag stand for, he adds: 'Most of the things that they go through are quite basic. I think we need to move on from there, something that appeals to our intelligence.'

The way it’s taught now makes it 'a waste of time,' declares Robert Straughan, 14, a Secondary 2 student from Fairfield Methodist Secondary.

Despite being sceptical about NE, the students say they do feel a bond to the nation, and miss Singapore when overseas.

An upbeat RADM Lui notes that the situation isn’t too bad, if youngsters feel that sense 'almost of loss' when they are away.

But Robert argues that a distinction has to be made, between the warmth one has for Singapore as one’s home where family and friends are, and Singapore as a nation and the values it stands for.

And indeed, what Singaporeans feel for their country should go beyond 'just this warm fuzzy feeling', says RADM Lui. There should also be a sense of responsibility to do something to bring about an improvement in society.

While critical of the way it’s taught, the students don’t want to see it scrapped, saying it just needs a revamp.

Go beyond the Chinese-Malay-Indian-Others ethnic groupings, and remember the sub-cultures of minority groups such as the Peranakans, says Hanisah Maskon, 16, a Secondary 4 student from Canberra Secondary.

To dispel the image that National Education is propaganda, it needs to embrace a variety of perspectives, says Gayle Goh, 18, of Anglo-Chinese Junior College.

She says: 'Maybe it’s time to look more searchingly at different sides to the Singapore Story.' One example is getting their version of history from Barisan Sosialis activists and communists - 'the sides of the story that don’t often see daylight in our textbooks though these are momentous occasions in our history crucial to nation-building.'

Another suggestion from Benjamin is to incorporate current affairs. Rather than regurgitate a fixed version of history to students, it spurs debate of real-time events and lets students make up their own minds, he argues.

One heated moment occurred during a discussion on whether everyone gets the same opportunities to flourish within the system.

Streaming, for instance, was in principle about letting the fast move faster, while helping the slow progress at their own pace.

But Benjamin, who studies in the Normal (Academic) stream which gives students five years to prepare for their O levels, says N(A) classes 'end up' with less experienced teachers like trainees.

Principals have even been known to ask teachers why they were wasting their time with N(A) classes, he claims.

The hitherto jovial minister turned stern here, saying: 'I would take it very seriously against the principal if I find him telling teachers: Don’t waste time on the N(A) or Normal (Technical) students.' But his impression during school visits was that teachers in these streams are dedicated, he says.

To which Gayle argues that the impressions given to him as a minister can differ greatly from that of students within the system.

And among the students, 'there IS an impression that people in other streams get less qualified teachers'.

Responds RADM Lui: 'Do we dictate to the schools where they should go? No, not as a policy. I would have to find out whether trainee teachers are predominantly pushed into the N(A) and N(T) streams.'

The session yielded food for thought. A day later, when Insight caught up with him, RADM Lui said his committee would consider incorporating current affairs into National Education classes.

He was cheered that the students were keen to debate issues. 'They want to get into discussions, they want to argue about it. Do so.'

Q&A with Minister of State Lui Tuck Yew, a day after his roundtable discussion with students

What do you think of the session yesterday?

To spend a bit more time on current affairs - I think that's useful, because that part of the story is still being written. It's helpful for them to be exposed to different viewpoints, think about it on their own, and then discuss as a class.

We want to infuse this into the curriculum, for example, General Paper, if you are in junior college.

Also, if you visit the Causeway, you talk about the bridge, that is something that's current and people understand why some things are being debated the way it is today. And you use it to reinforce some of the historical perspectives.

Will local politics be included?

I don't know how much of that is being discussed in the schools, but I certainly hope they do some of it.

We want people, those of voting age, to be making informed choices about the future of Singapore.

Some of the teachers may well be a little uncomfortable because they may feel that they're not equipped, they don't quite know what the boundaries are, and so on. These are natural concerns. We will have to find ways to help them, in terms of giving some resource materials.

How will the opposition be portrayed vis-a-vis the ruling party in such classes then?

It really depends on how the lesson evolves, rather than to say, you must cover this about the PAP, you must cover this about the opposition party. I don't think you want to be so prescriptive.

I think you want to be careful about the role of politics with the big P (party politics) being brought into the education system so that the classroom doesn't become a recruitment ground.

This brings me to the next question which is whether National Education is about portraying just one version of the Singapore Story, as one of the students suggests?

I don't think there's only one side of the story and only one set of information is available. I was talking to our ex-ambassador to Moscow, Joe Conceicao, who wrote a book. We're thinking of using excerpts to share with our students. It's useful for them to be reading bits and pieces of the exploits of all these different people who lived through the independence years.

Mr Conceicao was a former PAP MP. Are there any texts that now offer, say, Barisan's point of view about the struggle at the time?

Are there any texts they have written that are suitable for National Education? We'll have to see at what level, if at all, we should introduce this.

You're not going to try and put this, say, at the lower secondary, primary school level, because I think it confuses people.

For selected students who have the maturity to look at these things with an open mind, we may well be prepared to do so.

But I think it will be a mistake to introduce so many different conflicting versions throughout the entire system that it merely confuses more than anything else.

Because don't forget that the objective of NE is really to develop certain instincts in us, instincts for survival, instincts for social cohesion, instincts about the future and the way ahead.

What else are you looking at in the review of NE?

One, messages behind NE. Are they relevant still?

Also, how can we provide better support to the teachers? At the end of the day, it is they who play an absolutely critical role.

We are also looking at how we can involve the community. NE is not just about the school and the students. We can bring in a variety of different speakers, including people from the social sector.

Instruments like webchats are a different way of reaching out.

What's the timeline for the committee?

We will target to complete the review by next February.

Do you foresee a time when NE is no longer necessary?

No, I don't see that. For us as a very young nation, all the more so.

Don't forget also that our society is constantly evolving. We hope that more people will want to become Singaporeans. They come from very different backgrounds, and part of integrating them into society is to help them appreciate the history of the place that they have decided to call home.

You also have new generations of children coming to school. I think it's worthwhile repeating some of these messages.

The way you do it may become different but what instincts you want them to develop, will not change.

 

PRIME Minister Lee Hsien Loong yesterday set out his vision for education, pledging that every child would have his talents developed to the full.

From the poor to the disabled, from those destined to be leaders to the teachers who will shape the next generation, no one was to be left out.

He spelt out four key goals: providing many peaks of excellence for different abilities and talents; levelling up educational opportunities for all; creating stronger bonds to the country, and building a first-class teaching force.

'Education is one of our top national priorities,' he said last night at the Teachers' Day Rally, an event held every five years.

He began by noting that education is not just the most precious gift, but also the most critical investment and most effective success strategy for a changing world.

But it is not just about pumping in money and people. A strong team must be gathered with the right goals and principals and teachers must be motivated to give their best.

As he dwelt on each of the four goals, Mr Lee painted the picture of a comprehensive education system that caters to everyone, from those without academic inclination to those with special needs.

In his optimistic vision, he filled in the details with examples and anecdotes of schools at their best. Northland Secondary School, for example, received mention for its hockey hits - over 90 awards in the last decade - as did students from the Normal Technical stream.

'We must provide many paths for our students to grow and develop and to build up this whole mountain range of excellence, so that individually they are strong, but as a team we are invincible,' he told 7,000 principals and teachers during the rally at Singapore Expo.

Schools with different expertise and specialisations are emerging. And strong niche programmes like Northland's are to be encouraged. As Mr Lee sees it, neighbourhood schools can do it too - they do not need to come from just the independent and autonomous institutions.

In five years' time, the school landscape will be even more diverse, he promised. Instead of just 10 per cent of the schools having niche programmes, the proportion will grow to 33 per cent.

He urged students: 'Choose the path which fits you, then do well. When you excel, many possibilities open up.'

But more than just providing a buffet of choices, society here will be levelled up through education.

With the widening income gap, Mr Lee said the solution lies in education - giving children from poor families the 'best possible start' in life and the chance to do better than their parents.

'If you are poor, don't worry about school. We will make sure you can afford school,' he pledged, citing the Opportunity Funds and other schemes to help those from lower-income homes.

Dropout rates will also be reduced. The target: halve the present 3 per cent of students who do not complete secondary education to 1.5 per cent in five years.

Mr Lee also stressed the importance of building stronger emotional ties with the young, especially among those who could be leaders of the next generation.

Looking at the best schools in countries like Australia and the United Kingdom, he noted that they emphasised not only the academic side, but also character and leadership development.

Mr Lee said local institutions could learn more from these overseas schools to develop students with 'a sense of mission and a sense of readiness to serve'.

But they will be 'open, inclusive, non-elitist', he stressed.

To achieve all these goals, first-class teachers are a must, he added in his first teachers' day rally as Prime Minister.

He urged teachers to work with parents, and reiterated the groundbreaking 'teach less, learn more' message he first delivered in his inaugural National Day Rally in 2004.

On the eve of Teachers' Day, he pledged the Government's 'full backing and support'.

His audience overwhelmingly voiced approval of his inclusive approach towards all students.

Said Mrs Ravinderjit Kaur of Sengkang Primary School: 'I'm so inspired by his speech that when I go back to school, I'll do a much better job than before.'

AFTER reading Ms Kordial Kor's letter, 'Basic courses in early-childhood education vital'' (ST, Aug 1), I would like to offer my perspective as an early-childhood educator and a parent.

I believe teaching young children is not about planning structured lessons on music and movement, art and craft or mathematics. The focus should be on the children. The learning should be child-initiated. This requires understanding children's thinking through continuous observation, using a carefully planned physical environment and meaningful interactions to facilitate learning in various subjects.

Learning occurs naturally when an educator supports children's thinking and extends their play, and subsequently plans meaningful experiences with them. These are often conducted in a play setting, not necessarily delivered in formal lessons. While knowledge of subject content (numbers, the alphabet, etc.) is valuable, it is mostly to enhance the interactions with children and preparation of the environment.

It should not, as it often does, lead to a structured delivery of pre-determined content. In fact, such content should be developed from new thoughts and discoveries initiated by children. For example, children who are exploring insects can be encouraged to count the legs (mathematics), describe their encounter with insects (language) and use various mediums to recreate the insects (art).

Child-initiated experiences are valuable because such learning is self-motivated. The children are more likely to take ownership of their learning. Child-initiated experiences also promote self-esteem and produce confident children who enjoy life-long learning.

Education is about lighting a spark, not filling a bucket.