I read the news on the revamp of Singapore Gifted Education Programme (GEP) with a lot of mixed feelings. It became a blur as different individuals share their view points on the programme and how GEP had benefitted them as neurodivergent kids. Specifically, Crystal’s sharing on her growing experience offered me a differing perspective because my son’s experience with the school system left him with psychological trauma. I decided to take time to process while the social media is abuzz on the topic.
My Mixed Feelings – Relieved and Joy
Crystal’s sharing on growing up challenges in school is not foreign to me because my son went through similar challenges of being labelled as “naughty” and he constantly felt that he did not fit in. It brings me a sense of relief and joy to know that GEP offered her and kids like her an avenue to flourish outside a system that did not work for them. I find comfort and some closure to know this because my son’s experience was not like this. And I know they are more like him who fell through the cracks.
My Mixed Feelings – Worried, perplexed and hopeful
When I read through the information provided by MOE or Minister Chan on the news, a sense of worry overwhelmed me. This is so because my son’s experience with the school system was a traumatic one for him and for me.
My son was a bright and curious boy and we only detected his hidden disability (sensory processing disorder) between his last year of pre-school and first year in Primary school. Even so, I took the approach of supporting his learning according to his interests and not to discount him on what he could not do just because of SPD. He was always ahead of his peers and always curious to learn. We bought a kit to perform an experiment on crystallisation because he was curious to see what he read in action when he was in Primary 1. I taught him Math ahead of his syllabus because he asked questions around them. He loved this period where he could really thrive and learn what he liked. However, the school environment reversed everything we did at home. He did not fit in in school because he needed to move around to regulate. The topics were too boring to keep him seated. His friends treated him like an alien when they found out he liked to do assessment books to learn new things. He was bullied because he reacted more dramatically to some stimuli. He was always blamed for mishaps, even if he wasn’t the one who started it. He had to take the consequence because he did not react in the school’s expected appropriate behaviour.
By the end of Primary 2, he started to doubt himself because of all these messaging he received from how his classmates and teachers treated him. In Primary 3, a significant incident left him scarred. He was fully immersed in one of the Math lessons and because he had learnt basic algebra with me, he asked a question around the possibility of using different ways to solve the same problem. Perhaps he had asked too many questions in Math lessons, he was told to “shut up”. He kept this in him and only told me about it a year later. It was too late for me to undo the damage. He had been withdrawing himself into a shell, believing that if he were to stop studying, and stop doing well, he would be accepted by others.
In Primary 4, he was constantly scolded by his form teacher during Math lessons. In one instance, he was reading a story book after finishing a Math worksheet, the teacher came to his desk, snatched the book out of his hands, and threw it across the room. These events mounted to a point that he became suicidal and had no interest in learning. Through his psychologist, I got to know how his self-identity was forming at age 10 and the events had traumatised him. This despite me putting pro-active efforts to engage the school and teachers with his diagnosis each year. No one actually read the reports nor could understand him. Not even the school counsellor. He admitted that he had no clue what sensory processing disorder is and had insisted several times that my son had ADHD despite seeing the psychologist assessment. The only time my son felt safe and understood in school was when he met his form teacher in Primary 6. She had a son with sensory processing disorder and could connect with him. But it was all too late.
My son’s experience was one where no one in school was able to see beyond his behaviours to nurture him. When we sought the advice of an ex-MOE education psychologist for assessment and support, we found out how smart he is amongst his age group and was given honest advice how MOE system would not be able to support his learning and growth. We also got to know that he may not be able to demonstrate his strengths academically (think of the tests and exams that our school system thrives at) even though he has the capacity to think and learn beyond his peers.
So why am I worried and perplexed?
- 1) The school system and educators are not equipped and ready to implement what they said in a holistic manner. Every teacher I had spoken to and attempted to partner with them to support my son’s learning, admitted that they are not equipped. Including the Principal. There is a huge gap between the vision and reality and it is unclear how MOE is going to bridge this.
- 2) When I wrote to Minister Chan to share my son’s experience with the request for the Ministry to relook at how the school environment could be more inclusive for children like my son, the email was forwarded to a team who interpreted my email as an attention-seeking and complaining parent. They offered a “plaster” for my pain by getting an MOE psychologist to speak to me on how to support my son (with just less than 6 months to his graduation). They did not understand that the larger issue I was raising. I had means to support my son but there are a lot of families out there, who may not be as financially privileged to have assessment and diagnosis done, to get the right support their children need. They will require the system to work for their children. If not, they will fall through the cracks because they may just be like my son who may not consistently demonstrate their abilities in a paper and pen test.
- 3) The revamp was done with feedback from parents, educators and GEP alumnus who are the ones who benefited from the GEP system. It would likely mean that neurodivergent kids like my son, would not be getting the support they need if views of parents like me are not sought, and if the approach to assessment remains the same. There is also a quota for the number of children to be included in the programme which defeats the purpose of trying to support children’s learning according to their abilities.
- 4) Our classroom teacher to student ratio remains high even though the Director-General of Education had indicated that we are at OECD average of 1:14 – 1:15 (at the school level). She had given the rationale behind the high classroom ratio and it makes me wonder what else is not working in the system that leaves our teachers spent, burnt-out and not equipped to support children with different learning needs. If we are serious about building a more inclusive society, it starts young in school. If we are serious about having an inclusive learning environment, maybe we need to rethink education in Singapore and the education culture behind it, beyond the benchmark ratio, to have one that truly meets the needs of citizens.
Despite my worries, I hold a glimmer of hope that it is a step towards a more progressive and holistic education system, that truly embrace diverse learning and supports inclusivity. Our society has never been more polarised. I strongly believe that a fundamental shift in our education culture will help move the needle towards the positive direction.
As I round up this blog post, I peered into my son’s room and caught his back view, as he buried himself in his work. It has been a long and tough recovery journey and we are still on it. I have faith he will walk out of this eventually, as a stronger and resilient individual. I am also hopeful that he will be able to find means to advocate for others like himself in the future.