I’ve been trying to write this post for the past two days and I couldn’t figure out why I was having such a hard time until this morning. Lord knows I have endless things to say about T&T’s education system (such as it is) and the SEA exam is just one particularly nasty piece of the poisonous colonial educational legacy we refuse to relinquish. Even, as I’ve referenced before, in a pandemic.

But every time I started off hot and sweaty, I’d reach a certain point and abruptly run out of steam. There are three unfinished drafts to attest to this. It was not until today that I realised why. I came across a Facebook post written by a mother who witnessed a child fainting while waiting in line to take the SEA. She was in the socially-distanced line with her own child and her heart broke for this other poor child, who now had to find the strength to give his best academic performance on this make-or-break exam.

The reason I couldn’t finish those posts is because, while I am thoroughly fed up with our commitment to doing nonsensical things that are patently harmful to ourselves, I am also deeply conflicted, because I understand. I understand how a person could fully recognise that the systems in which they live and operate are ridiculous and regressive and still feel compelled to go along with them in order to survive.

I know what it is to nurture my child’s love of learning and then hand her over to an educational system in which education isn’t even the goal, hoping that she’ll be blessed with a teacher who actually cares. I know what it is to join fellow teachers in giving everything we have (and then some) towards the academic success of children who don’t have the support they need within a system that doesn’t care if they fall through the ever-widening chasms and land on the street.

I know it so well that I wasn’t sure how to approach this topic without it coming across as an attack on the parents who are simply trying to secure the best future they can for their children or the teachers who have dedicated their lives to providing an education to those children under extremely challenging circumstances.

But you see, there’s something else I know. I know what it is to realise that my efforts to do right in the wrong system can inadvertently end up enabling that system. I know what it is to recognise that the system will quite happily limp along on the backs of those trying their best, harming everyone in the process for as long as possible. I know what it is to decide that the best thing I could do for all involved is to challenge that system, even to the point of abandoning it, in favour of working to create a new system that actually serves those it is suppose to serve.

With this in mind, I would like to publicly say that, we, T&T, are on copious amounts of shit. ✨Respectfully✨.

We know it, too.

SEA didn’t become abusive and dangerous to children during the pandemic. Before it was SEA, it was Common Entrance and we knew then that we were damaging 11-year-olds psychologically. Back then, you had to pass in order to progress in school at all. If you didn’t, well… maybe learn a trade? (Don’t worry, we’ll talk about the way we talk about trades another time.)

Imagine throwing children away like that.

Imagine having the chance to do away with that kind of nonsense altogether and coming up with this system. One where every kid is pretty much guaranteed a spot secondary school, but if you don’t score well enough… the kind of school you might end up at… well, maybe just learn a trade? Any wonder that this has turned out to be similarly damaging? Anyone else wondering WHY we would go this route?

There is a version of this post where I begin by tracing the colonial roots of an educational system that operates on the widely-accepted assumption that everyone is NOT entitled to a meaningful education. I might finish it someday, but do I even need to?

Is there anyone who doesn’t know that no matter how well those children perform today, there’s a percentage of them who won’t get into their first-choice secondary school because once upon a time the government made an agreement with some religious bodies which, to this day, means that a certain number of slots will be filled without regard for the test scores the children have worked so hard to earn?

Is there anyone who doesn’t know which schools are and aren’t “prestige schools” and what kind of long-term benefits are in the offing for prestige alumni, particularly in a society where nepotism reigns as strongly as it does here?

Are any of us oblivious to the gap between the quality of education on offer in those prestigious schools and so many of the government schools, despite the fact that public dollars are being spent in all directions?

Is it so hard to see all of the above as the direct result of a society that is still clinging to the lessons its former colonial masters taught about worth and value of its people?

And given all of the above, is it any wonder that we will line up, socially-distanced, in the hot sun, during a pandemic, to walk our children into an exam that will determine their educational trajectory within a system that is all too happy to let them slip through the cracks?

But… what if we didn’t? What if we required that the education system be re-designed with meaningful education and the wellbeing of the nation’s children in mind? What if we finally decided that all ah we is actually one and therefore every single child deserves to be provided with the education they need to succeed? Cause then, their success would become the nation’s success, right?

What if, instead of continuing to perpetuate abusive colonial legacies, we looked towards nations who have overhauled their education systems with these very things in mind and created systems where their children can thrive? Not to copy-paste their approach onto our (very different) circumstances mind you, but to see what a healthy and functional system could look like and then to create an approach that would actually suit our society.

Here comes the hard part: How would we do that?

Well… first, we’d have to agree to stop what we’re doing. It sounds so simple, but I suspect this part would be even harder than figuring out our new system. Because, you see, there are those who are quite happy with our system as it is. There are those who are well-positioned to thrive in this system and don’t mind doing so at the expense of those who aren’t as fortunate. Those who accept that they’ll have to pay for lessons as a matter of course (and can afford to do so), those who have the necessary affiliations to ensure their children get into those prestige schools, those who have the time and knowledge to carefully steward their children’s educational journey.

Those people might not be as eager to switch to a system where the name of a particular secondary school is no longer enough on its own to ensure employment, because ALL secondary schools now provide meaningful education. They might not be thrilled to find themselves in a place where the ability to afford the best tutors doesn’t automatically guarantee their child an edge on their competitors. They might not relish the idea that education isn’t (and shouldn’t be) a competition.

Quite obviously, those same individuals tend to be the ones with enough influence to keep us all mired in this pointless morass. Even in a pandemic.

And of course, inertia itself is a hell of a drug. This is the devil we know. Change is scary.

But is it scarier than what we’re doing now? Is it worse than the heartbreaking sight of 11 and 12-year-old children in tears because they’re afraid of failing a test that they’ve been told will determine their futures? Is it more horrifying than the fact that some have been driven to suicide over it?

No? Well then, what if we… just stopped doing this to our children? What if we didn’t fail them by putting them in this position time and time again?

These feel like questions well worth asking as this year’s batch of adolescents emerge from the very first SEA exam following a full academic year of virtual learning during a global emergency.

… fwiw.