Just a few days ago, at the music school Little Foot goes to for piano classes, I was handed a notice from the administrators informing that, among other things, the school will now adjust the classes to suit the ABRSM and Trinity Framework that is required for Direct School Admission (DSA). I asked if this meant that they would no longer teach using the Suzuki method, which was why I signed her up at the school in the first place. The answers I got? Were along the lines of, “Oh this is for DSA, but it doesn’t guarantee your daughter will get into the DSA programme, just that it allows you to qualify. She will still need to audition for the school”.

Seeing as this was not quite answering my question, I had to rephrase my question and asked again “What happens to the Suzuki method? She’s only 5, isn’t DSA too far away to think about at this moment? It’s not on my radar”. I eventually walked away with an unconvincing reply – “if you want, we can still stick to the Suzuki method for you if you don’t want ABRSM”.

At this point, it dawned on me that

• The school was heading in this direction because more parents want it (or they assume this would make their selling point more attractive to kiasu parents
• I might be an extinct specimen on earth for wanting my child to learn music for the pure joy that it brings, and not because it will provide a side door to a good school or an advantage over other children to qualify for the school of their choice
• That perhaps the people running the administration do not understand that there is a possibility of different learning methods and still passing the piano exams?

In any case, I signed the form acknowledging that I have read the notice, knowing that any further probing would be a rather futile exercise.

And here, a week later, I am still reeling in shock that parents start strategizing ways to ensure that their kids get into the right school, even when they are still so young! As a Singaporean though, I am not surprised. It seems like it is in our DNA.

Since MOE introduced this DSA with the sports school and School of the Arts and later on, widened the scope across the other secondary schools, I have heard of parents paying for private and extra trainings with famous coaches, parents who splurge on holiday boot camps and drama camps. All to get their kid that extra edge to open that side door. No dreams come free in Singapore. And dreams are sometimes traded for something else as well.

Just writing this made me exhausted already.

Many of us would by now be familiar with this quote “To the young and to the not so old, I say, look at that horizon, follow that rainbow, go ride it”.
The quote became one of the most memorable to Singaporeans when Singapore’s founding father and first Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew passed away.

And yet I cannot help but look at the way we have organised and wired ourselves as a society, as a community, that leaves perhaps not much room for the idealists, the real dreamers.

In saying “follow that rainbow, go ride it”, did he mean that we had to dash for the pot of gold at the end of that rainbow? Or he meant “focus on your dreams and go chase it”? Whether the pot of gold comes at the end is beside the point.

How tiring this society must be, if it has to tag a sort of price tag to whatever we do:

• When you go to Kidzania and watch how parents dash their children to the pilots and banks and discourage them from job like farming and delivery, because they are fixated on that narrow definition of success.

• When you send your child to learn something, whether a sport or music, with the idea in mind that this will be the ticket to walking through the doors of a prestigious school, or at least the kid won’t have to mug so hard and still get into an elite school.

• When you choose who your kids “hang out with” to make sure they are hanging out with “the right crowds” (networking starts young).

In a society like this, can a hopeless dreamer like me, hoping to raise a happy little dreamer and actually thrive and succeed by our own definitions?

It makes me wonder if at some point, I will buckle and end up being one of them.

It reminded me of the time long ago, when husband and I went for Engaged Encounter, a 2-day stay-in retreat that was sort of a fast-track marriage preparation for Catholics.
We in the company of Catholics who were born to the faith with some who have kind of fallen out along the way, or whose fiancé/fiancée were non-catholics. The reason for most of us being there? The certificate that would allow the wedding to take place in Church (some said their parents would be livid if they didn’t have a wedding presided by the priest!). Of course, there were others who chose this over the 8-week long marriage preparation by the church because of their busy schedules.

In any case, during the sharing sessions, the whole room turned quiet when I told the priest, “We haven’t actually decided if we will marry in church as I am the only Catholic on both sides of the families.”

“Then why are you here?” Another participant asked.

My reply? “Because we believe that marriage takes hard work, and preparation is necessary. And I preferred that the marriage preparation also touch on my faith, as a chance for him (Long) to get a better idea of my faith. However, I don’t want to force it if I’m the only one who wants a church wedding and make everyone else unhappy.”

I think I gave some of the participants a lot of food for thought that night, and a new way to look at something they considered a “chore”.

At the end of the 2-day retreat, we had a good chat with the priest and he strongly encouraged us to enter into marriage in the presence of God (no emotional blackmailing, no pressure, but think it through), even if it was the simplest ceremony, and to call him if we changed our minds. And in the end, we did make that call.

Like it or not, I do think that we as parents set the tone for our children. They mirror us, and some of quirks rub off on them.

Just like how I am usually quite a “random” person – I don’t like timetables and I forget important dates, but when I feel like it, for no particular reason, I’d like to go on “dates” and “treats”. I follow my feelings a lot, while Papa Long is more structured. We balance each other out. He keeps the schedule, I slot in things on whim and fancy. And both our traits have rubbed off on our little girl too, for better or for worse.

As a parent, I would like her to choose to do things that she enjoys, purely for the joy they bring her, even if there are no rewards or outcomes. At the same time, there are the things that fall into the category of “responsibility”, that she would have to ensure she fulfills (like homework, and brushing her teeth). The things in these 2 categories may intertwine, but I do not see the need to force them to be mashed together.

And in her musical journey, whether she wants to pursue it for fun or eventually take the piano exams and go to a school which can help her further the interest, it is for her to decide, and not for me to force it.
Will I change my mind later on? Who knows, but for now, I do wish that some things in life can be simpler, so the dreamers can thrive.

“Yes, yes, yes!!! I wanna go to Mummy’s office!”

Uh huh, I had about 200% enthusiasm from Little Foot when I asked if she would like to go to my office on Children’s Day. It’s the whole “bring your kids to work” gig that workplaces do, to prevent the office from becoming a ghost town for a day, because you know, schools are closed for Children’s Day. (Frankly, I signed up, and then kept asking myself for a 100th time, “why did I do that?!?!”)

D-Day

Early in the morning, of course we overslept, and so I conveniently chickened out on her request to take the “high speed train” (seriously, where do kids learn these terms???) and booked a taxi to office, with the promise of a ride on the MRT at the end of the day.

When we turned into the porch, I was totally amused at the line up of taxis and Grab cars turning into and dropping off the big and little passengers. In my head, I was thinking, “Heyyy, so I’m not the only one who thinks bringing the kid out on public transport is as arduous as climbing Mt Kinabalu!” (nope, I haven’t ticked that off my bucket list yet). Not to mention the number of helpers that came in tow, carrying the diaper bags and pushing the prams. I silently congratulated myself for bravely signing up on my own without bringing Aunty, but then again, if I had another kid, I bet you I’ll be bringing every extra pair of hands I can grab!

The Invasion 

To be honest, after 3 years back at work since Little Foot came into my life, the workplace has become appreciated as a place where I can be myself, and where I can sit and quietly hear my own thoughts, and also go for lunch in a sane manner, i.e. a lunch without nagging “Little Foot, eat your noodles!” while battling the 100 repeated requests for YouTube while her wriggly backside cannot sit still on the chair for the meal. You get what I mean, so the idea of bringing her to work always makes me hesitate, like asking if Day and Night should meet.

Mind you, not all women are naturals as mothers. At least I think I was never meant to be a mother, and here I am, nearly 4 years in this role that I cannot resign from.

And so, when people like me, when we bring the kids to work, we literally let the two roles converge as one for a day, which sounds like a nightmare. But of course I exaggerate. Everyone is bringing their kids, I tell myself it can’t be soooooo bad right? And so I gave myself courage and went ahead and did it for the second time in my life.

The programme for the day had a magic show, movie screening, play time at the bouncy castles, popcorn and candy floss machines, face painting and balloon sculpting, I decided to let Little Foot play whatever she wanted, but we ditched the free lunch and movie screening (Papa screens Disney and Pixar movies at home regularly anyway), so she got to have lunch with my colleagues, and then sat beside me at my workstation while I did some work. She snacked and watched Tayo the Little Bus on her Mi Note and then did some drawings and cut out her artwork after that.

If anything, my personal target that day was to show her a semblance of what Mummy really did when I say I go to work. Work isn’t all bouncy castles and playtime. Work usually involves me staring at 3 screens and getting into discussions with my colleagues.

So it was that I did complete a piece of assignment, managed to get up to speed on my emails, while she enjoyed a big bag of chips and ice cream from me, some candy floss, popcorn, a flower balloon and a good time on the bouncy castle.

And so just before 5pm, I put her into the stroller, carried my JJB BRB, packed to the brim with my laptop and her barang barang and toys, and set off for the train ride to run an errand en-route home.

Going Public

It would have been easier to take a taxi home of course. But a promise is a promise.

There was the painful need to make detours on the stroller/wheelchair routes as opposed to what I would take if I were alone. Just imagine, I had to take 3 lifts at Doby Ghaut station just to change from the purple to the red line. There was also the dirty looks from the train riders who were probably silently cursing me for my pram which took up the standing space of 3 to 4 people, and they were probably wondering why my kid still needs to be in the stroller (because I cannot carry her for long distance and our house is a 10-min walk for an adult from the station).

Along the way, Little Foot fell asleep, and I patted myself on the back for a tantrum-free, temper-free day from both of us.

Bought myself a Koi along the way as reward for saving the cab fare. Sweated profusely.

At night, when Little Foot woke up from her long nap, she told her Papa very seriously – “Daddy, you know, Mummy’s office is like a cinema!”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Till the next time you follow me to work on a weekend, my big baby.