Yours Toothfully by Dr Chan Joon Yee

Are you one of those parents who always needs to be around when your child is doing his/her homework? I may not remember much of my primary school curriculum, but I’m sure I didn’t do algebra at Primary 1!

Ali has 3 marbles more than Tom who has 1 marble more than Jerry. If Jerry has 2 marbles, how many marbles do Tom and Ali have?

Let Jerry have j marbles
Tom has j+1 marbles
Ali has 3+j+1 marbles
Given that j=2
Therefore Tom has 2+1=3 marbles
Ali has 3+2+1=6 marbles

Well, at least that was the way I was taught to do this sort of “problem sums”. I don’t know how smart other people and their kids are. But I certainly wouldn’t have a clue as to how many marbles Ali and Tom have when I was in Primary 1. And I don’t expect my 6-year-old son to be able to do that. To me, this is probably Primary 4 work. Why are they teaching it at Primary 1 now? A chill runs down my spine when I imagine what they might teach in Primary 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

If you think that’s not bad enough, have you heard of the Primary 2 kids who had to write book reviews as homework? Almost every child would seem to have read a book that no child would find interesting. Almost every child would get an A for their insightful review copied from Amazon.com. My son would probably get an F because instead of a book review, I’d be the only parent who would write an essay on how stupid the whole exercise is.

We are a nation obsessed with upgrading, efficiency and bang for buck. That’s not a bad thing - provided we don’t let things get out of hand. Compared to my son and other kids in school today, I went through primary school at a very comfortable pace. It’s not just about enjoying childhood. It’s also about being true to yourself. So what if my homework was never flawless? At least I understood most of it and did it myself. So what if my projects were made out of cheap cardboard and coloured paper? At least my parents didn’t have to scrimp on the next meal to get materials that would make my project look as professional as the others.

If learning is forever, why rush into it? More importantly, how much does a Primary 1 kid really need to know at Primary 1? Are the schools really in such need to show that they are improving and reaching ever higher standards? What simpler way to show “improvement” than bringing Primary 2 work to Primary 1.

Wow. That’s an impressive improvement. What do we do next year? Let’s bring the Primary 3 work to Primary 1. Wow!

The end point? There is no end point in theory, but for practical reasons, most people would stop at an MBA or a PhD. And my friend who holds an MBA (and a very expensive one too) just got retrenched for the nth time. He has been switching careers, attending diploma courses to help him remain employable. After multiple humbling career switches with equally humbling salaries, he still ended up retrenched. It’s quite baffling that with so much more experience, he is worth much less than he was young. He’s finally considering becoming a tour guide - a job done very well by another friend of mine who only finished his O Levels.

Is it because this friend of mine didn’t learn about how many marbles Ali has when he was in Primary 1? Would our kids not fall into the same predicament when they hit 40 because the education system they are under is now an improved one that will make sure you won’t wash toilets or drive taxis if you have an MBA?

I’m glad that I can sometimes decide my own worth. My years of experience are tangible and worth something in the field of dentistry. While I can still hold handpieces and scalpel blades steady, I don’t have to retrain and acquire new skills in a food court or toilet to remain employable. Not so for many friends my age. Many of them have reached their “employ by …” age. Like the primary school system, everything is being sped up in Singapore. We can’t wait to graduate. We can’t wait for the IRs to be built. We can’t wait for the next rally at the stock market.

So why not attain O Level knowledge by Primary 6. Retire to wash toilets by 40 (already happening). Draw CPF at 90. No, this is one thing which will only be slowed down. Happy speeding on the other lanes.

Oh no! I had a drop too much of Knock Out Beer and I’m dreaming again. I bought a horse in Australia (the girl is part of the package). I wanted to keep it as a pet. Then I found out that it was used for racing (the girl was the jockey). So I sold the horse …

Yao mo gao chor ah?

If I find out that a horse has been used for racing, then all the more I should keep it in my own stable, my own ranch (with a decent room for the girl) and not sell it. But then, this was just a dream and dreams don’t have to make cents … I mean sense.

And I also dreamt that I spent millions upon millions of other people’s money to build a titanium building. Then angry mob came to tear down the building, melted down the titanium and the expensive metal was turned into thousands of dental implants for edentulous patients who would otherwise not be able to afford it.

More Knock Out Beer. And another dream. This time, I dreamt I was CEO designate for some company running a sovereign wealth fund. I panicked. I didn’t know anything about managing SWFs. The job was killing me. I was losing billions and people were staring, pointing fingers at me. I had to find a replacement, a scapegoat if you will.

I found him. But the guy was too smart to be a scapegoat. He soon realised that like Obama, he’ll be inheriting a disaster in the making. He quits over “strategic differences”. Whatever that means. It’s just a dream. I’d better go back to work and stop horsing around.

I started my secondary education during the late 70s. Mine was a neighbourhood school. Even back then, we already had some idea how low we ranked in the eyes of the public or even our own family members as our school used to be known for producing mediocre characters.

Many of us were sons and daughters of hawkers, factory workers, bus drivers etc and we got along very well. The teachers didn’t do much to boost our self esteem, but studying was relatively stress-free. We organised many class gatherings at Mt Faber, Marine Parade, Sentosa and even Pulau Tekong. The girls all looked pretty in their mothers’ clothes. Nobody told me I was going to hell because I didn’t believe in his/her god. Nobody was aiming for the sky. The top and bottom students in my school back then quite accurately predicted their O Level results.

My secondary school days were some of the most unforgettable. From the time I entered JC, things changed a lot. Classmates came from less diverse backgrounds. The son of a minister was in my class. Many of my JC classmates were sons and daughters of doctors, engineers, lawyers and other successful professionals. Though there were quite a few others who came from humble family backgrounds like me, the relaxed atmosphere of a neighbourhood secondary school had totally vanished. Yes, I suddenly belonged to a religious minority. People were inviting me to their church, telling me I’d go to hell if I didn’t. I was pulling the curtains while schoolmates who took ballet lessons performed on stage.

As students of one of the elite JCs, many of my JC classmates were aiming for the sky. Good at studies and talented in more than one artform, everyone here wore a serious look, worked a lot harder and played a lot less. The LDDS people seemed to be in a class of their own. Full-blooded Singaporeans, they spoke with funny accents. Tennis was played by Indonesians in outfits that would cost me several months’ allowance. Even in the photographic society which I eventually joined, I was the only one using my father’s discarded Konica TC while some of the Nikon users were driving to school once they were old enough to get a driver’s licence. There were schoolmates who received cars as birthday gifts from their parents. Talking to them was difficult. Sometimes, it’s the accent and and sometimes, we just didn’t have that many things to talk about.

Nevertheless, I didn’t feel insecure about myself. I had my strengths and I was me. It would be sad if I had to change myself or play catch up with people who had a headstart since birth.

University brought me into an even “richer” class. Many of my classmates drove to school. A few of them ate at restaurants every other day. Fortunately, I managed to connect with a bunch of classmates who weren’t so snobbish even when they were rich. Dentistry was a tough course, but save for a few kiasu ones, everyone was relatively relaxed, perhaps without the burden of being branded as elite.

Four years went by, I graduated, went back to finish my NS, worked for a year as a locum at various practices and finally set up my own practice in the heartlands. While dabbling with writing and publishing, I had many encounters with elitism. There were highbrow, award-winning “literary” writers whose works very few Singaporeans could understand or identify with. But these were the ones who received the most publicity and mutual back-patting. Communication with them was difficult. Again, it’s either the accent or the craft. I wrote about durians and char kway teow. They wrote about caviar and truffles.

Moving to Orchard after 17 years took tremendous courage and patience, but getting away from alamak patients as well as putting my skills to better use made it all worthwhile. Little did I expect to face a similar problem that I had in JC when I rubbed shoulders with colleagues at Mt E, Camden and Paragon. Sure, I get along pretty well with almost all of them, but friendship is virtually impossible. Ask a mildly personal question and they draw a huge OB marker. Well, they play golf. I prefer the freedom of the hills. For their holidays, Australia is the minimum, Europe is good. For me, Thailand, Nepal, China and Indonesia are quite satisfying. I readily make friends with people from all walks of life and organise gatherings online. We can have durians or seafood at Geylang or go for a trek around Bukit Timah. They filter out the lesser beings and only the most posh restaurants are fot for them. Aren’t these people tired of the burden of maintaining elitism? Why do these folks still find me on par but not quite on par with them.

It’s surprising that not that many references have been made to the deadly riots in Xinjiang in an attempt to justify OB markers and press muzzling and my sympathy goes to ex-NMP Siew Kum Hong for not being nominated for a second term.

There has been a lot of talk on what NMPs should and should not do. Mr Siew’s involvement in a straw poll on whether Bukit Batok residents wanted a by-election was often seen as “crossing the line”. But then, why is an attempt to seek public opinion seen as “non-neutral” unless some people may not be comfortable with the results?

But the biggest objections towards Mr Siew seem to come from Netizens who felt that he shouldn’t have taken sides in the AWARE saga. I’m not sure if people from a certain religious group have ganged up against him, but to me, many people seem to have forgotten that Mr Siew may have been an MP, but he had absolutely no power to change laws or dictate the outcome of parliamentary “debates”. We should certainly get worried if the Minister for Law or Home Affairs sits in at the AWARE AGM and applauds certain members while booing others, but Mr Siew? Come on! I’d rather have him than people who don’t raise eyebrows or leave any impression.

Let’s take a trip back to Xinjiang and like many people who love to travel to exotic places, Xinjiang tops my list of “Must Go Again” places. What’s the attraction there? Well, you can read any travel brochure for the details, but Xinjiang in 1997, struck me as a Chinese territory that had a character of its own. Though the Han Chinese were fast becoming a majority there, the Uyghurs stood out with their characteristic signboards, buildings, bazaars and festivals. Not far from Urumqi is Tianchi, a lake in the Tianshan mountains. The inhabitants here are mostly Kazaks. I’ve spent a night in a yurt here run by a Kazak family. Their customers were all Han Chinese or foreigners. They spoke good Mandarin and were positively pro-business, arranging ethnic dances and suggesting extras like a lamb BBQ for us. He even sent a runner to get us some beer. The boss of the tour company that arranged this trip for me was a Uyghur.

Urumqi had bazaars on Fridays and even the Han Chinese restaurants served dumplings stuffed with mutton. Several Han businessmen I’ve met showed off their linguistic talent by speaking Uyghur. Even though it’s already a modern city back then, Urumqi still exuded the exotic charm of a minority race’s culture. Sure, I noticed the differences and a lack of community bonding between the Uyghurs and the Hans, but I found the Uyghurs to be quite positive about China’s economic develpment. Absolutely nobody was going to migrate to the poorer neighbouring states. The Uyghurs had it good in Xinjiang. People here, both Hans and Uyghurs were a lot friendlier, more laid back, less grouchy and calculative than people from the other provinces. A racial riot was the last thing on my mind.

It’s 2009 now. More Han Chinese people have moved into Xinjiang, not just as tourists but as settlers. Unlike the earlier settlers, they were less sensitive to local customs and practices. Tall buildings pierce the skyline. 5-star hotels and cybercafes are everywhere. Today’s Uyghur youths sport mobile phones and can be contacted by email or SMS. Some even have notebook computers. The new airport put most domestic terminals in Thailand and Malaysia to shame. I’m quite sure the majority of Uyghurs welcome all that. But the streets of Urumqi resemble those of Bangkok. The glitzy shopping malls and sleazy karaokes have overshadowed the more traditional buildings. It’s easy to see why the traditional Uyghurs are more than a little uncomfortable. Change has come about too quickly. Not enough was done to curb some of the undesirable side effects of change.

But over the past week or so, the most glaring opinion coming from learned members of the Singapore community, is that the Uyghurs were against progress/business and hence attacking the Han immigrants. It obviously shows a lack of understanding of how Urumqi has already progressed, under Han and Uyghur leadership, into a modern and even wealthy city way back in the 90s.

Even in ancient times, Xinjiang was not just a barren desert but an oasis on the Silk Road, providing horses, food and water for traders and pilgrims. This was made possible by an ancient technology to channel glacial melts from the Tianshan mountains into the deserts. Intrepid and starving travellers from Western Tibet have reported arriving at outposts in the deserts of Xinjiang, overflowing with food, fruits and other supplies. How can one say that the natives are backward and agianst progress? They certainly weren’t and they certainly aren’t.

My take? If China still wants to fight and control separatism, it’s not only religion and the media that need to be moderated and regulated here. One also needs to moderate “progress” and “development”. As with all other cities in China, progress brought pollution, corruption, cover-ups, increased crime rate, a loss of comaradire and culture. No good Muslim or Han Buddhist, Taoist, Christian or free-thinker would chop people’s heads off like what some of the rioters did. For the violent rioters, both Han and Uyghur, it’s not about religion. It’s about the beast taking over the moral human when light-speed, unregulated wealth-seeking are the order of the day. It’s each man for himself. They would kill for their own interests. Han or Uyghur, they both love their food and their money. It’s not that the Uyghurs want to impose fundamentalist policies and fight again progress and wealth-generating projects.

The trigger point for these riots was actually an anti-Uyghur attack that occurred in a Guangdong toy factory owned by Hongkong tycoon Francis Choi. Native Guangdong workers entered a Uyghur dormitory and attacked, killing 2 and injuring 118. Apparently, these workers were acting on an unsubstatiated claim by a Guangdong woman that she was raped by two Uyghur men. Had the lawless workers been arrested and publicly punished as they deserved, it would have been far more difficult to spark off Uyghur anger in Xinjiang.

What should have been done? In the age of SMS and broadband internet, anything that happened in Guangdong is only an SMS away from Urumqi. Covering things up won’t work in this century.

Many of us in so-called developed countries dream of accumulating wealth and retiring in a peaceful, unspoilt paradise island. How would we feel if the paradise we have retired to turns into the same noisy, hustling, bustling city of crowded MRTs, expressionless faces, traffic jams, COEs, ERPs a 3/4 tank rules? Do we not feel cheated? Was the island paradise not developed enough already? Where do we go from there?

Well, there are some people who don’t wish to go anywhere. While some city states are made up of immigrants with no shared culture and history, Xinjiang is very different, with rich cultures, traditions and a history of which the people are proud. What happens if you start changing the face of a once peaceful, religious and sufficiently well-endowed land, with which the people are quite contented, turning it into an economic powerhouse that only worships money? Everybody wants the economy to be good, but the economy isn’t everything.