Will we ever learn?

Looking back at my secondary school days in Malaysia, I sometimes envisage an allegory of George Orwell's brilliant novel "1984": the climate of fear and overt use of control, the imposition of conformity and the overwhelmingly restrictive atmosphere which stymied and inhibited intellectual and personal growth.

As a child, I had spent the most crucial years of my childhood in London. It was there that I was fortunate enough to be exposed to Western philosophy and thoughts at school, and good old Malaysian values at home. In theory, it was the best of both worlds and my own individual development had taken a more holistic path.

But then in 1989, I came back to Malaysia.

My short spell in standard five left rather unfavourable impressions on me. On my first day of school, I recall being forced to line up with the rest of the children outside our classrooms, whilst the first rays of the sun shone across the fields and playgrounds.

We would stand there inanimate but for a wheezing cough or an abrupt sneeze. At the top of our voices we would then belt out nationalist songs in praise of our social development and racial harmony, and pledge our faith and trust in the government.

As on cue, we tip-toe back to our classrooms all in an orderly fashion, of course, and sit quietly waiting for the class teacher. The class was expected to sit in rapt attention and devour every word and instruction from the teacher's lips. While the dreary lessons droned on and on, deep inside I yearned to go outside and play in the sunshine.

A short but welcome break came at about 10 o'clock. In that meager half hour, we ate, drank and ran around. At the bidding of school bell, we rushed back to the classroom, and once again yielded to the bidding of our teacher.

When the final bell of the day rang at one o'clock in the afternoon, we were allowed to go home. Into my bag went all of my books and pencils and the "day's worth of education", and once outside the school gates, I would run back to the relative comfort of my home.

I saw little merit in the education system. I felt imprisoned by the walls and fences; the dourness of the lessons left much to be desired. While the teaching and presentation was carried out methodically and quickly, it was uncreative and incontrovertible. I could not question the teacher, even less argue with her. I could never express myself or my own thoughts and there were no opportunities given either, except for parroting the phrases from the board or textbooks.

We were never taught to see ourselves as individuals. The concept of ownership of ideas, volunteering opinions and freedom of expression were blatantly ignored. The system did not pursue or encourage libertarian ideals, which I found most distressing. But what was equally distressing was the pliant nature of my peers and the apathetic manner in which they responded to the lessons.

The stifling environment of primary schools days continued when I entered secondary school. Indeed, the harsh, cold subversiveness of the education system never lost its metallic sheen as I made my way into adulthood.

As the son of an army officer, my family was relocated to different parts of the country and I bore the brunt of having to switch schools rather frequently. By the time I was 15, I had been to an elite school in Johor, a Chinese-medium school in the then backwater Sandakan, almost made it into the Royal Military College and finally to a regular government school.

Th length and breadth of the geographical and climatic spheres across Malaysia that I was exposed to should have squelched my apprehension and dissatisfaction with the school system. However, this was not to be. As it turned out, things were the same wherever I went.

Even in secondary school, differing views were not tolerated and frowned upon. The healthy and constructive debate of arguments and ideas was not encouraged and no attempt made to incorporate the element of "fun" into learning. Ingrained into our psyche was the great god of exams.

Most of the time was spent memorising copious amounts of information from prescribed textbooks and regurgitating them during the exams. We were not taught to think for ourselves and the teacher was always right. Any sort of disagreement would result in one being branded a delinquent. As such, in the eyes of my teachers I was a rebel, stubborn and incorrigible.

Even in terms of personal appearance, we were given diagrams and guidelines on the permitted "haircut" in school, with details of the approved length of sideburns! How could anyone project their individuality and uniqueness when we were all made to "look" like one another.

I have often questioned the wisdom of compulsory class attendance when the teacher would just read straight out of the text books or copy chunks of it onto the blackboard. Occasionally my test papers would be returned with a bright red "zero" because my answers did not conform with those supplied in the books or the examination scheme.

Some of the lessons at school are an insult to my intelligence but before you call me an arrogant fool, take a look at any form five English textbook and you shall see precisely what I mean!

Perhaps the teachers are underpaid and a de-motivated lot. But I believe there is a fundamental flaw in the system's policy and implementation.

So, after all these years of discontent, what suggestions do I have to offer?

Firstly, the emphasis should not be on examinations. Children should be taught to appreciate their surroundings and given the opportunity to explore ideas, increase their understanding of issues and help to find solutions for problems they are faced with. For example, children could be taught to understand their place in society and that they can have their own say in what happens to them and grown-ups' ideas should not be forced upon them. I cannot recall ever discussing with my classmates the importance of governmental policies or party politics.

In the UK, I was taught to value cleanliness and the environment at an early age. In contrast, children here are just thrown some facts in a science class which is not communicated to them in a manner that appeals to them emotionally whereby the matter is promptly forgotten as soon as the bell rings.

There is a perceived lack of spontaneity and initiative among Malaysian students. They are also not terribly outspoken. Even during my classes at a private college, the gravity of silence and hesitancy is so pronounced. I find this is alarming because students at my age should not be afraid to ask questions. But then how can I expect students to respond any differently when all through school they have waited for the teacher to provide all the answers?

All the education system does is to churn out standardised and certified individuals fit for use in the job market like little circuit boards on a factory line. Any one that is "out of line" is discarded or blacklisted.

I am optimistic and strongly believe that all this can be changed. It may not happen overnight, but it can happen. An overhaul of the education system is needed as a new millennium beckons and we should at least respond by making efforts to improve the system.

A virtuous and intelligent society is not out of our reach. A bright, successful, liberal, free and caring nation? Well, we have to start somewhere.

Suffian Abdul Rahman
malaysiakini.com