On Par But Not Quite On Par
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.
