A 57-year-old veteran preschool teacher and mother of one, who prefers to remain anonymous, tells our writer what it was like growing up in Singapore and working here since long before Y2K.
When I was my son’s age, I shared his current ideals — I thought Singapore was too restrictive. It felt like we couldn’t do anything more than work and study, with the law always looming over us.
I’m not blind to racist encounters here, too — my son bemoans issues of racism and privilege. However, it matters more to me that I’ve never been to any other country where I could pray at work without fear or stress.
Perhaps the difference between my son and me, besides our age or the fact that I cannot understand why he’s yelling at his phone over a video game, is how we grew up.
While I can admit I may not have afforded him the best childhood, canings and beatings were a sombre norm in mine. This is something we should never tolerate now, but the prevalence of such a form of discipline then meant that people my age just had to, well, suck it up. We learned a kind of resilience.
We caught a glimpse of the kampung life and were then catapulted into one of the richest countries in the world. Something about witnessing and contributing to a nation’s growth from a truly humble abode imparts a deep appreciation of the value for hard work and family.
Paper town
In 1985, I was one of the 500 or so successful applicants for Training for Child Care as it was first introduced in the Teachers’ Training College (the predecessor of the National Institute of Education).
This increasing emphasis in qualifications was part of the government’s answer to improving the quality and image of staff in early childhood.
That’s where my experience departs from policy, however. From my own childhood to my first years of being a preschool teacher, teachers were already highly valued and respected, contrary to the image problem the government identified.
When I visit Indonesia and people realise I’m a cikgu, I can sense a shift in their demeanour that evinces the respect they have for my profession.
Unfortunately, now, I can’t say the same here.
Once, I was working alongside nurses at a centre for infant care. One father would always give the nurses a hard time and constantly spoke down to teachers. Maybe it was because he was a doctor or his wife was some high flyer in the government.
Either way, I could not stand for it. I had to tell him, “Excuse me, Dr. So-and-so, you may be a doctor, but I am still a professional in my own right. Let us do our job.” He just stormed off. Perhaps qualifications and status are a double-edged sword — this fixation with paper sometimes breeds entitlement.
Money doesn't grow on trees... or from had work apparently
While preschool teacher salaries have gone up, I don’t think it’s enough. Besides gruelling parents, there are too many responsibilities that a day is not enough for a day’s work.
I’ve refused the role of a principal in favour of working directly with children, but my experience begets the expectation of assuming managerial responsibilities — without any compensation.
Money-minded or not, Singapore is expensive. In the Netherlands, 5 euros gets you a delicious breakfast spread — croissants, fresh fruit, cold cuts, bread, pantry staples — for maybe three people. In Singapore, 5 dollars gets you a block of butter.
I say, there will come a time — there must — for minimum wage in Singapore. Too often have I advised my mentees to fight for their salary. If an anchor operator informs you they can’t pay you enough, don’t buy it. Know your worth.
Home is where the heart is
I know, Singapore is not perfect. There was a principal who kept harassing me about me doing my prayers. My ex-husband’s parents told him not to date a Malay girl because we have kutu (head lice).
But it doesn’t matter to me. I left that job. I refuse to feel inferior. For me, as cliché as it sounds, home is where the heart is. Having grown older and seen the grass on the other side, Singapore seems better off than many other places. Then again, I may just be tired of scrutinising this island and its workings.
Everybody is searching for love and acceptance and I have finally accepted myself. I appreciate the safety here, that I can, as a woman, walk on the streets at 2 a.m. without issue. I value being able to pray wherever I’ve worked in Singapore (except that one time) and that I am comfortable in my skin.
If I do see issues here, I speak up and fight for myself. Hopefully, that helps people who are in a similar position I am in, too.
Right now, I am focusing on my son and I don’t need much else. Like I said, maybe I’m tired. I am happy knowing my son and his peers still have the verve to hope for a better Singapore.
