9 months in a public school, and surviving

Here I am, about nine months after telling the world that I am not afraid to send my daughter to a government school, bragging that she will come out stronger just like we all did at a time when private schools were the playground of diplomats’ children.

And now, I write again about my daughter’s school.

Over the past two weeks, we were in and out of the headmaster’s room, meeting a friendly gentleman who was always ready to open his doors to us and hear us out.

We came out of those meetings confirming what we always had suspected and read about. And this is a school which prides itself on being a “high-performance school”, with this fancy phrase now printed on all over the school, from the main entrance to the school T-shirts.

Here is a school smack in the middle of a 100% urban neighbourhood, with pupils whose parents are not the type who work two jobs or some daytime uniformed job, but whose WhatsApp profile pictures would show them holidaying in some snow-filled land.

And yet, there is a sense of apathy among both parents and teachers, so much so that I sometimes think it could be we who are being very kiasu over educating a child who is decades away from a job interview. Many appear not to question the rules and the underlying mentality which seem to work in the background of their children’s education.

Could it be the same attitude Malaysians have when they seek treatment at government hospitals? One of the rare times I smiled while paying a bill was at a government hospital two years ago. It was so worth it, considering I got a pair of healthy thugs to bring home.

So we brushed aside all the rudeness, all the apathy and all the unprofessionalism we came across among the medical staff, and told ourselves that it was better than paying ten times that amount at some private hospital and yet carry home the same noisy Koyas.

By now though, we are exhausted, and we will probably just accept the way things are done in the school. All we care about is the child’s safety, and that she has good companions throughout the day. The rest of the mess which we call “the syllabus”, we have to sort out ourselves.

Because we now know that teachers are not happy with their work and burdened with non-teaching chores, and that disciplining children is not a possibility, considering the shortage of teachers. Of course, all this if the teacher is present, and not on a three-month sabbatical due to the birds and the bees.

So when some people cried foul at the Education Ministry’s decision to postpone making English a compulsory subject in SPM, the anti-establishment app installed in me from a young age failed to activate itself.

And here’s why: our schools are never prepared for many things, let alone English. And when one expects our schools to be the launchpad for the job market, one is in danger of bordering on fantasy.

Which takes me back to the premise of my argument not long ago, that the public school is just a way to prepare our children for life in Malaysia, not to seek knowledge, not to become better human beings. More than private or international schools, it teaches the young citizen survival skills in Malaysia.

You see, understanding our education system is not as easy or straightforward as the money trail graph showing how US$700 million went to the world’s greatest donee.

One has to make babies, bring them up for six years and release them into the school compound before we can experience it ourselves, and begin appreciating why many parents have long given up hope for our education system.

It is a mix of politicians’ folly, but also now increasingly due to little Napoleons in skullcaps sitting on the cushy seats of Putrajaya.

For example, how do you explain Muslim girls, who are barely out of their childish innocence and who are still disgusted at kissing scenes on television, being told that they are better Muslims only if they wear the tudung?

It appears that the salary-earning keepers and defenders of our faith have now decided to reward Muslims in this world, and there is no need to wait till Judgement Day.

At least that much was revealed during our conversations in the headmaster’s room. Muslim students who wear the tudung have a chance of getting good grades in their Islamic curriculum studies, and this will be reflected in their general performance. 

We asked why such a rule when there is nothing in Islam making the hijab compulsory for children. The response was a helpless “that’s-the-rule-they-made-and-we-follow”.

We were also told that some Muslim parents wrote letters forbidding their daughters from wearing the tudung. I will probably be one of those parents one day.

And I am not speaking like some liberal Muslim quoting some Quranic verse to vent anger at some obscure rule and prove himself progressive. Here I am, brought up in traditional Islam, questioning our obsession with Islamic cosmetics which seems to bog down Malaysian Muslims right from school.

But again, here’s my worry: would I be doing that at the risk of disrupting her socialisation process and isolating her, when almost all her friends come in white cloth hoping to get good grades?

After all, isn’t socialisation the reason we sent her to a government school, besides of course not being someone with an Arab friend who can’t count?

Will my daughter come out stronger, but also confused? Watch this space. – August 22, 2015.

* This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insider.