Being qualified vs being educated

First off, as an industry insider, I don't believe that our ever-improving exam results is in any part due to grade inflation. If the letter writer is concerned that we are handing out cheap As, it isn't true. We and the kids really do work our collective butts off to achieve those results.

What our industry is highly proficient at is quality control, emphasis on control. We have identified the factors that make the 'A' grade and distilled them into a system that, if followed as prescribed, will give the student every chance of success for a desired outcome at the exams. It's a system that handsomely rewards the obedient student -- the one that does what he is told to the letter. Study this. Do it this way. And when everybody studies the same material and does it the same way, the As come pouring down like manna from heaven. Our children are nothing, if not obedient. And as far as tangible indicators go, the industry has achieved its highest criterion year after year. Everything is transparent and fair, and the customer is more than satisfied.

But if our new acting co-CEO is going to get his way, This system that we've so studiously developed over the years will to have to go.

What Mr acting co-boss has identified is that there is a huge difference between being qualified and being educated. The industry is excellent at qualifying our students. Every factory follows a uniform standard of teaching, learning and assessment, each product follows a uniform assembly-line process and passes through stringent quality control checks before being certified fit for the next level of processing.

The good thing is that the system ensures very little waste. The dropout rate is low, and there are learning and career opportunities available for everyone who leaves the system without necessarily following it through all the way to the end. The not so good thing is that at every level, each individual product is barely distinguishable from another -- being mass-produced within predetermined specs. Totally obedient, but empty; non-functional until programmed, or at least given very specific instructions. And it isn't their fault if something screws up, because you didn't give clear enough instructions. Yes, in the end, the qualified student is very good at taking orders, not half so good at giving them, and hopeless when working unsupervised. Just ask local employers.

The industry hasn't quite figured out how to educate students quite as well as how we qualify them. Education occurs in a much more chaotic environment than we are used to. It requires lots of space and time for unsupervised creativity; for failure; for mistakes; and for problems to be solved by the kids themselves. Not hypothetical problems in class, but real ones in life. Messy problems involving emotions, issues with peer socializing and personal safety which we adults are too anxious to step in and take over before the poor delicate things hurt themselves. Minor bumps, bruises, scratches, blood, mud and tears are part and parcel of the hard knocks of education, and we adults must learn to deal with these problems in proportionality to their occurrence. But as we industry employees have now been made aware, every ounce of prevention is far better than a lawsuit.

We need our future adults to exercise human judgement. We need them to be innovative and adaptable. We need confident decision-makers, who can work with and identify relevant partners in the pursuit of new opportunities. We need brave adventurers who explore unfamiliar paths and rugged individuals who can work around and through obstacles to attain their desired outcomes (preferably legally permissible ones). In order to get such people, they cannot be handed everything they want on a plate when they are young. We can't say to them, if this is what you want, then this is how you're going to get it. Instead, we have to follow them on their own path, help them up when they fall (or fail), discuss with them their learning points, and then let them go again. It'll be one horribly messy school system, but the average grade will be back to a more realistic 'C' since most kids won't be spending their time cramming for the sake of cramming any longer, but rather on their own interests and pursuits, many of which are ungradable except to their own standards of personal engagement. Education can't be manufactured. It's a craft.

For now, it looks like the boss is asking for a paradigm change in the industry-wide mission, and as a result, a major overhaul of our systems. It's a much needed change, but I wonder if we can use the momentum we've already achieved and just change track at the next switch, or whether we have to hit the brakes, come to a stop and completely reverse the train in the opposite direction. Either way, like it or not, change has to come.

A show of their own

The NYght must be hands down the most popular of events on campus. An hour before auditorium doors open there is already a line. The noise and excitement only gets more frenetic the closer we get to curtain-up, and stays throughout the performances until final curtain. And even then, the celebrations continue as the exhausted contestants meet with their fans at the stage apron. Selfies and glitter abound.

Only on a night like this do we get to see the kids letting their hair down, determined to have a good time. This is the talent contest of the year, not to be missed because somebody inevitably knows somebody appearing on stage, belting out their own versions of the latest hits and showing off slick dance moves -- displaying an unexpected mobility going by how they usually slouch at their desks during tutorial time.

The importance of this event is not to be underestimated. First, it is their one and only opportunity to showcase their raw, unpolished talent. This is talent they can truly call their own, unsullied by any teaching or instruction provided by the best coaches money can buy. Their efforts are self-taught, their coordination; compositions; arrangements; and rehearsals all worked on in their own time rather than predetermined through adult supervision. This is student ownership in the truest sense of the word, and it's wonderful to see the whole thing come together.

This is not to say that the staff are completely hands-off. Staff manage the event but the content and substance are provided by the kids themselves. In this environment, the audience is entirely supportive and encouraging. Hiccups in the individual performances such as going off-key; the inevitable technical faults and delays; lapses of concentration; and the awkwardness of stage-fright are taken in good humour; while the audience is ever ready to forgive, showing their support with rhythmic clapping; generous applause; and enthusiastic singing along, buoying each performer's confidence enough to gracefully finish the set.

I've never, in other campus events, seen students rallying for each other to this extent. In other events, the knowledge that the performance has been stamped and approved by trainers and coaches raises expectations a lot and the house becomes less forgiving. In sporting events, the audience are led to chant artificially composed cheers according to a forced 3, 2, 1 togetherness. But on the NYght, it's wild; chaotic; friendly-competitive -- and yet it also reflects the kids' strongest support for one another in the entire school calendar. The performances may not in themselves be perfect, but that imperfection brings out the perfectness of the unity within the student body. This is the students' show, so let's keep it that way. Always.

Castles in the air take shape in the sand

It's the post-exam period and the kids are getting a bit of a break from regular classes. This bunch is being groomed as future leaders so they've come to take some practical life lessons at Castle Beach, ECP. The sand sculpture in the foreground is a sample.

Instructor, Alvin, briefs the kids on the programme: Plan, Build, Sell. Personal note: I've never met a motivational speaker I liked. They always rub me the wrong way. This one is no exception. 'nuff said.

Some of the plans that emerged for the sand city the kids were supposed to build were ambitious and elaborate. One of the lessons they learned was to follow through on the vision regardless of difficulty, not settle for second-best which, apparently, they did.

Oh, well. At least they had fun.

Arrow to the back

Sometimes a little arrow comes out of the blue. Mengs needed someone to intro a guest speaker at assembly talk. MC of choice: yours truly.

Fortunately, Cheng isn't difficult to introduce. His claim to fame is that he is the former head creative of a major media company (think big mouse ears) who has since gone freelance as a caricaturist, cartoonist, and sort-of visual-arts evangelist. He offers to teach 'untalented' people to express themselves through cartoon drawing and in the process show them that trained technique in the arts counts for more than any so-called 'natural' talent.

The info I had of our guest was 'sketchy' like that and my further instruction was to remind the kids the objective of the session so that they won't blank out if asked to recount the experience for some KPI survey or other. In my mind, I composed a brilliant intro even including a link to the kids' all-too recent trauma that was the GP mid-year exam. Always good to engage prior knowledge, right?

My usual problem is delivery. Mouth and brain are seldom coordinated, but today I surprised myself with a near word-perfect intro delivered with all the (appropriate) aplomb I could muster. Right at the end, on cue, with a dramatic flourish towards the general direction of where Cheng was last standing, I was met with riotous applause. Wow, that must have been some intro... hope I didn't over-sell him.

I turned to hand Cheng the mike... but he wasn't there. I looked behind me and there on the projector screen he had already finished his first sketch -- PPG's Blossom -- while I was still talking. Guess my intro had gone on for a bit, huh? *sheepishly hands mike over and exits, stage right.

The state of the arts

Since last week, strange yellow circles began appearing at different locations on the floors of our neighbourhood void decks. Now it's clear what they are meant for.

What's interesting about them is that they are painted on by stencil in a public location. They present information in the form of text and graphics, but they are dry, humourless and terse. Obviously not meant as art, but they have a legitimate purpose for their presence in the public eye.

This public service is in direct contrast with what's been happening with the so-called 'sticker lady' and her attempts to perform her blend of design and cultural commentary, within the context it is relevant. Her unilateral action to paste authority-impersonating wry stickers on public amenities and stencil officious-looking, yet irreverent text on public roads has met the ire of the authorities whose duty it is to maintain public order.

There was no doubt in anybody's mind that she would get into trouble. I doubt she had any illusions about that. But she went and did it anyway; to give passers-by a chuckle and wonder at the mystery over the identity of this bold individual thumbing his?her? nose at the norms of civil society, at least while it lasted. Her art was not in the design of the stickers or the stenciled text themselves but in the performance of placing them where they could be found and making her audience connect with her observations of Singaporean life.

Since her arrest, the artist has ignited a public debate over what is art and what constitutes public nuisance. This coming from a nation that once had no time and no energy for such impractical, unprofitable considerations. This is an artist's highest achievement: to be talked about; to have a people challenge the once comfortable cut-and-dried standards and values that underpin their culture; to push the boundaries of what is accepted so that we start to think about what we stand for instead of blindly accepting status quo without question.

Perhaps I may be over-romanticizing her objectives. It could be that all she wanted was a little fun, that's all. But whether she's right or wrong, let's just say if she didn't get into trouble with the powers that be, her performance would have fallen flat. Her statement would have been pointless and meaningless, worthy of an lol comment on Facebook, but little else.

So don't feel sorry for her. Rather, respect her as a true artist who has given her all for the sake of her art. Whether she wins or loses in court, this entire performance with its slow, patient build-up and mass audience participation scores a total WIN.

Too punishing for apples

Recently, the kids were considering the question about the acceptability of implementing extremely harsh punishments (EHPs for short) to combat crime. One of the points I asked them to think about was about how EHPs affect how people function in society.

Read: Steve Wozniak: Apple couldn't emerge in Singapore

According to Woz, the intolerance of 'bad behaviour' (wrt the perception that harsh punishment is the expected result of such) prevents people from realizing their creative potential. As a result, great talents do not arise from among our people, let alone market drivers such as Apple.

The Woz has a point. If a people works to avoid punishment, they are a people that are afraid to take chances, to experiment with new ideas, to "think different" (as was Apple's motto in 2007). Instead, it is in our interest to keep the status quo, and to achieve success by replicating the success stories of our more illustrious predecessors rather than craft success stories of our own. Sadly our best examples of successful people are bureaucrats and property tycoons. Not an apple among the lot.

By the way, it isn't just about EHPs applied legally in a top-down manner, but because that is the system the people have become used to, they apply EHPs horizontally as well. People punish each other for slights, hurts and errors because punishment is the only means of redress that they perceive is open to them. EHPs also apply internally as people punish themselves hard too, for failing to meet their own expectations.

Fear of punishment makes us give up easily, usually at the first sign of failure. Neither Rome nor Apple was built in a day, yet that's what we expect of ourselves.

We have a very safe and secure society, and that has a lot to do with our laws which promise harsh punishment for wrongdoing. But we'll just have to be content that while we live in a sheltered orchard, we'll never grow our own apples.

Benefits of S'pore-US education partnership

I hope that with our employer's new understanding to collaborate with the US on education, we'll get to see more student projects being less hypothetical and 'safe', and more daring and tangible, like this 14 year-old's Marshmallow Projectile Cannon (above) which the PotUS himself couldn't resist taking a pot shot from. How soon can we get this kid over to supervise a project team?

What's inside the box?

I've got an article here that purports that secondary schools are an anathema to a child's creativity. It isn't the school's intention to do that, of course. We do want our kids to grow into thinking, creative adults, but our processes often send the wrong message.

I think there is a difference between (1) encouraging imagination and (2) nurturing creativity. Schools tend to focus on the latter at the expense of the former, which is what turns off most kids.

Imagination refers to wild flights of fancy, ideas that suggest "anything goes". These ideas are the most fun to play with, sometimes the most dangerous and scary too, but that's why imagination is so much fun, so outside of our mundane reality and existence. But when schools tell us to focus on the real and not on the imaginary, when they tell us to be practical, suddenly life becomes boring and our motivational engines sputter and die. All we want to do is sleep because we can't be our naturally wild and crazy selves any more.

But that's just imagination being curbed, which is not quite the same thing as creativity, though perhaps only one of creativity's more special ingredients. We define 'creativity' as 'out-of-the-box' thinking, but in order to achieve that level of intelligence, we need to know what's INSIDE the box first. That's what schools specialize in, putting students inside a package of social norms, rules, customs, expectations; wrapped in a common knowledge of science, math, languages, and occasionally humanities so that at whichever level we leave school at, we leave with a cohort of peers who know exactly what we know and so we all start out making lives for ourselves from the same, equal starting line. That's fair.

The assumption is that as long as we stay in the box, everything's nice, everything's safe and everything's fair. It's only a rare few who realise that it actually isn't, and they are the ones who start thinking 'outside-the-box', yes, the real creative ones.

Creativity (a.k.a. 'innovation') starts with dissatisfaction, and it seems that at JC level, only GP (and maybe elements of the Arts and Humanities) teaches that the world isn't perfect, that the world doesn't follow the rules that are supposed to work to keep society nice for everyone, that the world isn't fair in the way that math and the sciences with all their rules and formulae tell us it is. Just-follow-the-formula-and-everything-will-be-correct is nonsense in reality, but that's what's inside the box. It's a seductive message to be deluded by and take comfort in, but it's only the dissatisfied and unhappy who question the formulae and eventually become the creative ones.

Imagination, as I mentioned before, is a wild thing. Creativity is our ability to harness our imagination, tame it and make it go where we want it to go. We are creative when we can discipline our imagination, making it work for us. There's a riddle that goes, "what do you need to know before you can train a dog?" to which the answer is, "more than the dog!" That's where most of us are today, in the process of learning more than the dog, those of us who are looking to be creative in spite of our school experience.