A tip for parents accompanying their children to collect O-level results

The O-level results came out on Monday.

I can empathise with all you students and parents waiting for those results.

I got my results over three decades ago and I have yet to fully recover from the emotional trauma.



More recently — two years ago to be exact — I accompanied my son to his secondary school to collect his O-level results.

We were naturally quite anxious to find out how badly he did in the exams.

But before we could get the results, we, along with the other students and parents waiting in the school hall, had to suffer through seemingly interminable slideshows presented by the school.

The first presentation was about the Joint Admission Exercise (JAE) conducted by the Ministry of Education for students to apply for admission to schools after O levels.

Next, the principal talked about how well the school did in the O levels relative to previous years and all the other schools in the country — subject by subject.

This just went on and on.

Then it was time to give out the results. Finally!

But before the results were released to everyone, the results were first given to the school’s top students — individually.

So we were forced to wait as one by one, the name of each top student was announced and he or she would scamper onto the stage to shake hands with the principal and get their picture taken.

This went on like forever.

The school seemed to have an infinite number of students who scored a gazillion distinctions in the O levels — and yet my son wasn’t among that infinite number. Not that we expected him to be.

Why was the school doing this?

Why was the school torturing us with this endless ceremony?

Why was the school prolonging our agony by delaying the release of the results?



Wasn’t the school aware of the majority of less stellar students and their parents right there in the school hall waiting anxiously to find out if all that time and money spent on private tuition was a waste of time and money?

Why should we care about these other freakishly overachieving students who aced the O levels?

Were we supposed to be happy for them?

Were we supposed to applaud their success at taking away the places in the schools that we could be applying for?

By highlighting their accomplishment, the school was only underscoring our failure.

Eventually, the name-calling and photo-taking ended and it was time to distribute the results to the rest of us plebs.

My son got 16 points for his L1R5, which was a pleasant surprise considering he barely studied for his O levels.

Two years later, I had to go through it all over again.

On Monday, I accompanied my daughter to her secondary school to collect her O-level results.

But I had learnt my lesson.

Having gone through what I went through two years earlier at my son’s school, I decided we should go a little late to avoid the presentations, but alas, we weren’t tardy enough.

We still had to sit through part of the presentation about the JAE.

Next, the principal talked about how well the school did in the O levels relative to previous years and all the other schools in the country — subject by subject.

This just went on and on.

Then one by one, the name of each of the school’s top students was announced and he or she would scamper onto the stage to shake hands with the principal and get their picture taken.

Wait, that second name sounded familiar.

Isn’t that my daughter?

I was taken aback to see my second-born scampering onto the stage to shake hands with the principal and get their picture taken.

What was this strange sensation coming over me? Could I actually be feeling proud of my child? How gauche.

So this was what it’s like to be a parent of one of those freakishly overachieving students.

I no longer minded that the ceremony was going on like forever. I already knew that my daughter kicked ass in the O levels.

Oh, so your kid wasn’t good enough to have his or her name called and go on stage?

Who asked you to be such a failure as a parent?

You’ll just have to wait a little longer for the results like the rest of the plebs.

That’s not me saying it. It’s the school.

Now that I have survived it twice, here’s my tip to parents accompanying their children to collect their O-level results — go late.

And it helps if your child is a freakish overachiever.

- Published in The New Paper, 17 January 2016

Sex, drugs (lots of drugs) & rock 'n' roll: Netflix & MDA way too chill?

“Start your free month.”

Like a drug dealer offering a free sample of his product, the button on the Netflix website beckons me to click it.

The US streaming service Netflix was launched last week in more than 130 countries, including Singapore.

Out of curiosity, I went to the Netflix website on Friday to see what it looked like.

Right up front, the button enticed me with a month of free streaming.

And that is how they hook you.

Believing I could quit any time, I clicked on the button and then was asked to “choose the plan that’s right for you”.

The price plans after my free month ends are $10.98 a month for the basic plan, $13.98 for standard and $16.98 for premium.

My plan was to cancel my subscription just before my free month is up and pay $0.

For my plan to work, I must not forget to cancel.

Otherwise, I would look more despondent than the army recruit in the photo posted on Facebook by the Basic Military Training Centre that went viral last week.



After giving Netflix access to my PayPal account and my soul, I was asked to create my four-digit “parental control” PIN, which I would need to enter to watch R21 shows.

After going through a couple more screens, I was eventually asked to choose three from a selection of 78 titles to help Netflix recommend shows for me to watch.

The first thing that caught my eye was something called Hot Girls Wanted.

Why did it catch my eye? Because it’s something called Hot Girls Wanted.

It turns out to be an R21 documentary about the exploitation of women in the US amateur porn industry, but still.



Next, I picked an R21 TV series starring a hot-looking Mary-Louise Parker called Weeds, in which “following her husband’s untimely death, suburban mum Nancy Botwin goes into business selling marijuana to her friends and neighbours”.

To complete my unholy trinity of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, my third and final pick was Keith Richards: Under The Influence, a PG13 documentary about the debauched Rolling Stones guitarist.



Am I really allowed to do this in Singapore? I feel like I was getting away with something I shouldn’t.

After all, this is the country that has finally allowed Madonna to perform here now that she’s a nostalgia act, but the Media Development Authority (MDA) still gave her Feb 28 National Stadium concert an R18 rating for “sexually suggestive content” and banned her from performing the song Holy Water because of its “religiously sensitive content”.

The song contains the line: “Yeezus loves my pussy best.”



Last year, MDA said it was “working with Netflix to familiarise them with Singapore’s regulations and media capabilities ahead of their arrival”.

Earlier, Apple and Google launched their movie buying and rental services in Singapore but were caught offering R21 rated titles, such as Fifty Shades Of Grey and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, to local users. R21 titles are meant for theatrical and not home video release. Both companies have since removed R21 titles from their service and are working with the MDA on classifying its content.

But now that Netflix has arrived, what I discovered is that as long as I remember my PIN, I have access to a trove of grown-up entertainment that could give even a Rolling Stone satisfaction.



Which makes me wonder how good a job MDA did to “familiarise” Netflix with Singapore’s regulations.

Is a four-digit PIN enough to keep children out?

My 16-year-old daughter is tech-savvy enough to find a live stream of the New Year’s Day special episode of Sherlock starring Benedict Cumberbatch that let her watch the show in Singapore as it was being telecast on BBC One in Britain!



So if she really wants to watch the suburbanites on Weeds pass the joint, I suspect neither MDA nor I can stop her — Netflix or no Netflix.

When I finally made it to the Netflix home screen, the first show I chose to watch was Weeds.

In the first episode alone, there are scenes about packing drugs, selling drugs, using drugs, gay sex and underage sex. And the drug dealer is the heroine.



Never mind the prison lesbian sex on Orange Is The New Black (R21), there seems to be a show on Netflix about every kind of illicit drug.

For marijuana, you have the aforementioned Weeds and That '70s Show (NC16). For cocaine, Narcos (M18) and Pablo Escobar: El Patron Del Mal (M18). For meth, the almighty Breaking Bad (M18). I’m getting a contact high just by typing those titles.



It’s going to take me more than a month to binge-watch all these uncensored shows.

I think I’ll pay for just one month after my free month is up — but only one.

And then I’ll stop. I promise.

It’s not like I’m an addict or anything.

- Published in The New Paper, 10 January 2016

Too creative v uncreative: Why Eunoia JC is a worse name than 1Sengkang Mall

Last Sunday in my final column of 2015, writing in defence of Compass Point’s new name, I said:

“Who could’ve guessed that in a year when teen troll Amos Yee falsely accused his bailor of molesting him and Mediacorp executive Sharon Au played Mrs Lee Kuan Yew (badly) in The LKY Musical, the biggest scandal of 2015 would be the renaming of a shopping centre?”

That was on Dec 27.

Once again, I spoke too soon. There were still four more days left in 2015.

“It ain’t over till it’s over,” said US baseball legend Yogi Berra, who died recently in September.

Or as UK heavy metal legend Lemmy Kilmister, who died last week, would put it: “Killed by death.”



Who could’ve guessed that in those remaining four days, an even bigger scandal would rock the nation right down to its flip-flops, surpassing the outrage over 1 Sengkang Mall?

Coming in just under the wire, the most explosive scandal of 2015 turned out not to be the renaming of a shopping centre — but the naming of a junior college.

Ground zero was Acting Minister for Education Ng Chee Meng announcing on Tuesday that a new junior college will be named Eunoia Junior College.

He said that the name “Eunoia” has Greek origins and means “beautiful thinking” and “goodwill towards others”.

Future historians will look back on this as the announcement that launched a thousand puns — “you know, ya”, “pneumonia”, “Yoshinoya”, “Little Nonya”, et al.



Even The Straits Times said Eunoia is a name that will surely annoy ya and sounds like an awkward cross between “urine” and “ammonia”.

Cramming all the vowels in the alphabet into a name without repetition is not a selling point.

While Eunice (for girls), Eunuch (for boys) and Eunorexic (for the very thin) have been suggested for what to call EJC students, the Ministry of Education has pre-emptively coined its own term in the school’s vision statement: “Every Eunoian a youth with purpose, thinker with heart, leader with courage.”

Yes, by the looks of it (and the nicknames alone), every Eunoian would probably need considerable courage to go to a school called Eunoia.

And it’s not even in Eunos.

Before moving to its permanent home at the junction of Sin Ming Avenue and Marymount Road at the end of 2019, Eunoia JC will temporarily be at Mount Sinai.



Wait. Mount Sinai? Why are people complaining about Eunoia being a foreign name when there’s a place in Singapore called Mount Sinai? Isn’t that where Charlton Heston received the 10 Commandments?

Thou shalt not give names to places in Singapore that may confuse taxi drivers.

Which is why 1 Sengkang Mall is a better name than Eunoia JC.

Remember when people complained that the name 1 Sengkang Mall was uncreative? Now they complain Eunoia is too creative. That’s what I call ironoia.

Also, 1 Sengkang Mall is a very local name and there’s no debate over its pronunciation.

MOE says Eunoia is pronounced “yoo-noh-iea”. One language expert says it’s “eh-yu-no-ya”. Another claims it’s “ev-nee-ah”.



Since when did Singaporeans care so much about correct pronunciation? This is a country where we still mispronounce “algae” as “el-gay”.

I’m surprised no one created an online petition to stop algae from performing in the Mediacorp countdown show.



But you know what really makes the naming of Eunoia JC a bigger scandal than 1 Sengkang Mall?

The name 1 Sengkang Mall was chosen after Compass Point held a renaming contest in October and a woman won $1,000 for it.

MOE said the name Eunoia Junior College was chosen to demonstrate “not only the college’s commitment to nurture students with outstanding academic abilities, but its belief in the importance of building character and wisdom in tandem with intellectual pursuits”.

I believe the people at MOE are paid a whole lot more than $1,000.

Oh, before I forget, since this is my first column of 2016, let me take this opportunity to wish everyone a happy eu noia.

Pull your ear.

- Published in The New Paper, 3 January 2016


UPDATE: 1 Sengkang Mall is dead, long live Compass One