<!-- by line -->
OVER the past two weeks, the words 'meritocracy' and 'elitism'
have stirred feelings of loyalty, indignation and dismay all at
once.
Just ask the old boys of St Joseph's Institution (SJI), who have
been making a very public case for and against the lowering of the
school's entry requirements to enable more students from its feeder
schools to make the cut.
Meritocracy must prevail, argues one camp. Easing entry
requirements will only cause academic standards to slip. But SJI
must not become elitist, counters the rival camp. Boys from the
Christian Brothers' schools, based on that affiliation alone,
should qualify.
The imbroglio once again puts the focus on the uneasy
relationship between meritocracy and elitism. A cynical take is
that the race to the top will always leave behind stragglers, and
those who cross the line first are bound to look down on their
weaker counterparts. Given this attitude, it does not surprise me
that some SJI alumni are campaigning fiercely against the 'E'
word.
I attended Raffles Girls' School (RGS) and Raffles
Junior College (RJC), both elite institutions. I confess that as a young adult, I
was conceited and felt unsympathetic to the world around me. These
days, when people ask me what is my alma mater, I often say I'm a
Rafflesian - but a 'recovering' one.
Before I incur the wrath of Rafflesians past and present, let me
say I am grateful for the all-rounded education I received. Way
before the term 'holistic learning' became a Ministry of Education
catchphrase, my $300-a-month secondary school fees in RGS paid for
classes in speech and drama, etiquette and philosophy.
My teachers did not teach us to be snobs. But neither did they
teach us not to be snobs. As a Rafflesian, one never spoke
in terms of examination pass rates. It was the number of As one got
that signified one's mettle.
We felt entitled to big things in a merit-driven society where
mental dexterity equated strength of character and virtue. We felt
so because we had trumped the system, even if it was the 'system'
that had allowed us to get this far in the first place.
Intellectual snobbery can be a scary thing. A running
joke when I was sitting for the A-level examinations in RJC was
that the National University of Singapore law faculty half
consisted of Rafflesians. The other half came from 'students from
OJ' - other junior colleges.
I did not have a single friend from a neighbourhood
school. In our world, we did not see a need to venture beyond what
we knew.
Many of my friends came from rich families and lived in
the Orchard or Bukit Timah areas. I remember a then 15-year-old
friend asking me where I lived.
'Siglap,' I said. She asked quizzically: 'That's where all the
Malays live right?'
I never learnt that failure was sometimes an unavoidable option.
Two years ago, I sank into a funk when I did not get a
scholarship. A non-Rafflesian friend jolted me to my senses when he
asked: 'How many people even get to think about doing a
master's?'
Growing up this way, you lose perspective. You forget
that you belong to a privileged minority, that in the real world
there are those for whom a C grade (and not an S-paper distinction)
represents the pinnacle of academic achievement - but who may be
wiser in many ways than the academically gifted.
It was only when I left the comforts of my flock that I
realised how close-minded I was. Unlike some of my peers, I did not
win a scholarship or study overseas. I studied at Nanyang
Technological University, where classmates told me they were
initially wary of me because I was a 'Raffles girl'.
I learnt that brandishing my elite school background, from the
way I spoke 'proper English' to wearing my RJC physical education
T-shirt around my hostel, rubbed people the wrong way. I learnt
there were other ways to win respect without riding on the
coat-tails of a brand-name education.
My work as a journalist also quickly brought me crashing
down to earth. Loftiness goes out of the window when you have to
talk to everyone from politicians to cancer patients to victims of
natural disaster.
I hasten to add that for every misguided smart-aleck I
encountered among Rafflesians, there were others who were humble
and well-adjusted. Still, an Old Rafflesians' Association president
once quoted in this paper defined the Rafflesian character as
'predominantly achievement-oriented and goal-driven' -
traits I dare say which tend to create a type of
ultra-competitiveness that leaves little room for empathy and
humility in the absence of a countervailing
value-system.
Many of my schoolmates went on to become civil servants,
lawyers, bankers and doctors. They keep to the same small social
circle they grew up in, married within it and will probably wish
the same life for their offspring as well.
I'm not saying they grew up into mean-spirited, Ayn-Rand
spouting adults just because they excelled in what they did. The
pursuit of intellectual excellence is a virtue that our educational
system quite correctly promotes. But the pursuit of intellectual
excellence to the exclusion of character or value excellence breeds
an exclusionary attitude to the rest of society. Many of the
products of our top schools forget they have to give back to the
society that allowed them so many
opportunities.
It is especially worrying when the exclusionary attitudes bred
in school become accepted life values. You judge success using
markers that only you and your like-minded friends agree upon.
For example, my unmarried
girl friends tell me they will never date a man without a degree, a
car or a 'respectable' job - and they are entirely unapologetic
about it.
These are people who live for years without having to step
outside their comfort zone, leading a bubble-wrapped existence.
The sooner that wrap is removed, the better.
[email protected]
Also see :
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wee_Shu_Min_elitism_scandal