Three years
ago, when the economy was starting to sag and I was feeling the
first jitters about my analog qualifications in a digital world, I
signed up for an online course on data science.
The programme
cost about US$500 for a series of 10 modules, including a capstone
project, but I wouldn't have to pay for all of it.
The Government
would subsidise between 40 and 80 per cent of the fees, depending
on how many modules I completed, and throw in an extra $500
incentive if I finished the whole programme. It would be another
year before every Singaporean was given $500 in SkillsFuture
credits for continuing education, but this course would have fit
nicely into that budget.
Although I
wasn't actually sure what a data scientist did, I was confident the
course would make me more marketable. But before I put my money
where my mouth was, I asked my brother, an actual data scientist,
whether he thought the course was worth taking.
He asked a
question in return: "What do you hope to get out of it?"
I quipped:
"The ability to nod knowingly when people mention data science in
conversation."
My answer was
half in jest, but it rings unamusingly true now. I completed six of
the 10 modules, just enough to qualify for the minimum 40 per cent
course fee refund, before I threw in the towel.
It was a
fascinating and eye-opening course. But with no computer science
background to speak of, I - a former humanities and business
student - found it punishing to keep up with the video lectures and
weekly coding homework, on top of a full-time job.
Before the
course started, I had never even heard of R, the programming
language at its centre that is often used for data analysis. As my
coursemates bandied around unfamiliar references to online coding
resources - such as GitHub, where people can upload their code for
others to review, modify and use, or StackOverflow, a furiously
participative discussion forum - I sometimes felt like a caveman
banging on a typewriter with two fingers.
To say I
learnt a lot would be an understatement. But to say I can now put
the skills I acquired to serious use - such as to quit my job in
media and start looking for one in data science - would also be a
lie.
In fact, my
main takeaway from the course was this: Just as a baking class
doesn't equip you to open a cake shop, or a wine appreciation
workshop won't make you a sommelier, a single coding course,
however intensive, is inadequate preparation for a career in
IT.
No one knows
this better than the global tech giants, to whose open-concept
offices job-seekers are flocking. A recent report by Bloomberg
highlighted the mismatch between graduates of so-called coding
bootcamps and the digital jobs they covet, with some firms going on
record to say they automatically reject applicants whose
qualifications are from coding schools.
"Our
experience has found that most graduates from these programmes are
not quite prepared for software engineering roles at Google without
additional training or previous programming roles in the industry,"
Bloomberg quoted a Google director as saying. A spokesman for Cisco
was more direct: "We generally don't hire from coding schools."
In other
words, making a mid-career switch into the tech industry, with no
prior experience, is going to take a lot more than $500 in
SkillsFuture credits, or learning a programming language.
Just as a baking
class doesn't equip you to open a cake shop, or a wine appreciation
workshop won't make you a sommelier, a single coding course,
however intensive, is inadequate preparation for a career in
IT.
It isn't just
aspiring coders who face this problem. Dozens of new training
companies have sprung up for the sole purpose of offering courses
to soak up these funds, from basic sewing to beginner flower
arrangement techniques.
As personal
enrichment programmes, these courses are perfectly suitable and
immensely appealing. But to help workers acquire adequate skills
for a new job, they can only be one small part of a much larger
plan.
What that
larger plan is, though, many of us have no clue, or no time to
worry about right now. That may be why only 126,000 Singaporeans so
far have made use of their SkillsFuture credits - just 5 per cent
of the more than 2 million citizens who are entitled to them.
But as
increasing numbers of professionals, managers, executives and
technicians (PMETs) get displaced from shrivelling sectors of the
economy, a more structured - and smarter - approach will be needed
to equip mid-level workers with enough career guidance to plan for
a lifelong series of jobs.
For a start,
the focus of SkillsFuture should shift from the $500 credit and
what you can do with it, to the end-point of what jobs are
available, what essential skills they need and then what eligible
courses you can use the $500 funds for. Some work in this area has
already started. One of the most promising is JobTech, a new online
portal that aggregates recruitment ads and uses data analytics to
identify the top hirers, top-paying jobs and top skills needed in
each industry.
In its current
free beta version, it has some limitations - including having only
seven sectors on offer - as well as some interesting quirks. In the
area of government jobs, for instance, one of the top three skills
demanded is meticulousness, but the portal's engine cannot find any
suitable SkillsFuture courses to impart that ability.
Also due to
start this year is a career guidance and jobs bank database with
the rather unwieldy name of Individual Learning Portfolio (ILP).
Part of the overall SkillsFuture movement, it would close a major
gap in the job search process by first assessing a worker's
interests and skills before suggesting possible jobs and, in turn,
the necessary training.
Still missing,
however, is a mechanism to make sense of the multitude of
subsidised courses out there, and to string these bite-sized
classes into coherent portfolios that employers will recognise as
sufficient capability for a new job.
After all, an
undergraduate degree programme comprises building blocks that add
up to a certification. A mid-career switch should similarly require
a clear progression of training, including a formula to translate
work experience in one industry into a concrete set of skills that
can be useful in another sector.
On the part of
workers, what is needed is a readiness to expect their full-time
jobs to be disrupted and to start preparing for their next career
well before their current one becomes obsolete.
This entails
taking an exacting look at their capabilities, making realistic
goals for subsequent jobs and plugging any gaps between the two.
Being open to opportunities - such as job rotations, overseas
postings or mid-career secondments and attachments - will also help
with crafting a convincing skills narrative.
With lifespans
extending and retirement ages becoming irrelevant, it is
increasingly unsafe to assume that career paths will be rigidly
linear progressions, or that a patchwork of ad-hoc self-improvement
courses will be sufficient to make the leap into a new career.
Having a
detailed next-career plan will make our workers not just job-ready,
but also future-ready.