The madness of the kiasu.

Kiasu is a Singaporean attitude that means "an extreme fear of losing out". It manifests as extreme competitiveness and desire to "beat" others in all things. It also leads to some astonishingly ugly behaviour.

Today, I encountered one of the most kiasu people I think I have ever had the misfortune to meet. She got on my bus, with her son, after school. Another boy, from the same school, followed them on. As soon as they had sat down - mother and son together on one seat - the other boy diagonally opposite, across the passageway, on his own - the mother was overcome with the strangest emotion: she seemed possessed.

She leant across the passage towards the other boy, bent almost double in her effort to get close to him. She bore down upon him like a truck upon a rabbit crossing the road and there was such fierceness in her. Her body was stiff with tension.

"What's your name?", she began with a strident, demanding tone, as if she was trying to shake him with her voice.

"Why?", he asked, quietly, aware that he was being threatened somehow.

"What's your name?" She continued, ignoring his question, raising her voice a little more, as if annoyed that he should dare to question her.

"W...w...wayne.", he stuttered, her aggressiveness making him nervous.

"How do you spell that?" She almost shouted at him, her words gouging into him.

"Why?", he asked again, clearly not knowing why this mother of his fellow schoolmate should be questioning him so.

"How do you spell that?" She continued, once again, ignoring his question and, once again, raising her voice, further.

"W...a...y...n...e"

"Wangy?" She snapped, seeming to think he was putting one over on her.

"W...A...Y..N...E", he repeated, responding unwillingly, but automatically, as if to an angry teacher.

"What's your mother's telephone number?" Again, she seemed to pounce on him. There was something SO predatory in her manner, voice and approach.

"Why?", he asked, in some distress, but quiet with it.

"What's your mother's telephone number?" She continued, again, ignoring his question, again raising her voice.

He gave her his number and repeated it for her to finally grasp. She wasn't too good at listening, accurately - too busy raising her voice.

"Are you in the same class as David?". She didn't really speak. Her words were spoken as if in a stabbing motion, plunging into him, as she leant over him.

He nodded, silently.

"What mark did you get in the last maths exam?" She was so tense that I rather thought she would reach out and grab him, if he didn't give her the answer.

"66". He said, very quietly.

"What?", she said, needing to make doubly sure.

"66". He repeated, a little louder.

"The same as me.", said the clearly mad woman's son.

I understood, by now, that I was witnessing the worst of kiasu attitudes in action. Here was a mother seeking competitive intelligence for her son, in her lifelong combat with the rest of the world.

The mother ignored her son's statement. She didn't even look at him, nor shift from her raised position above the hapless other boy. It was like she was a bird of prey and the boy was a shivering mouse.

"And what did you get in the last maths test?" She seemed angry now, angry that this boy had the same mark as her son.

"93", he said, very quietly indeed.

"What?" She seemed truly pissed.

"The same as me!", her son repeated, "He got the same as me!"

Again, the mother ignored her son. It was as if he hadn't even spoken. Her gaze...her ever so fierce gaze...remained pinned on the eight or nine year old boy who seemed affixed by it, unable to move.

"Who is your maths tutor?" She asked, virtually spearing him with her intensity.

He didn't answer.

"Who is your maths tutor?", She repeated, to no answer from him. It was unclear whether he did not know the man's name...or did not want to answer.

"How did you do in science?"

He didn't answer.

"Who is your science tutor?"

He didn't answer, but just shifted in his seat, as if seeking an escape, but finding none.

"Does your mother work?" She demanded, bullyingly.

He didn't want to answer. "Why?", he asked, painfully.

"Does your mother work?" Again, she raised her voice.

"Yes.", he said.

"What time is she back from work? Seven?" She had not the patience to wait for an answer, so suggested her own.

"Yes. Seven.", he answered, finally, unable to resist her bullying any further.

The mother turned from the boy then, and sat back in her seat. She didn't look at him at all, again. She had got what she wanted. For the rest of the time that she was on the bus, she didn't engage the boy in conversation, nor acknowledge his existence. Interestingly, her son didn't speak to the boy either. They shut him out. Neither mother nor son spoke to one another.

I resolved then to speak with this crazy woman when I rose to get off the bus, for she was behind me. Unfortunately, when it came to leave, I noted that she had got off before me, while my back was turned.

I have never witnessed such an aggressive questioning of a child before, in all my life. It was quite the most astonishing thing I have ever heard.

The most perturbing thing about it was the fury this woman seemed to have in her throughout the entire bullying tirade. She could not have been more aggressive had she been beating him, the whole while.

The question all of this leaves me with is this: would not Singapore be a better place without such kiasu attitudes? Does this characteristically Singaporean behaviour pattern make any positive contribution to life?

It is incidents like this that make me think that Singaporean education is a toxic experience best avoided. Perhaps everyone should homeschool, then no-one would have to put up with this kind of bullying for kiasu aims.

I rather hope the mother of Wayne gets to read this and realizes that she should not cooperate with the mother of David (as I presume her son to be).

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, a scientific child prodigy, aged eight years and seven months, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, five years exactly, and Tiarnan, twenty-eight months, please go to:http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html I also write of gifted education, IQ, intelligence, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, College, University, Chemistry, Science, genetics, left-handedness, precocity, child prodigy, child genius, baby genius, adult genius, savant, wunderkind, wonderkind, genio, гений ребенок prodigy, genie, μεγαλοφυία θαύμα παιδιών, bambino, kind.

We are the founders of Genghis Can, a copywriting, editing and proofreading agency, that handles all kinds of work, including technical and scientific material. If you need such services, or know someone who does, please go to: http://www.genghiscan.com/ Thanks.

This blog is copyright Valentine Cawley. Unauthorized duplication prohibited. Use Only with Permission. Thank you.)

The dangers of a kiasu mentality.

Somewhere, in Singapore, as I write at 10.30 pm, there is a child at work. This child is nine years old, and still has hours of homework to do. Every day, when he comes home from a full day at school, he is required, by his mother, to start upon his homework. This can take an hour or two. Once this is done, you would have thought that his efforts would be over for the day...but no, they are just beginning.

After this little boy has finished his official homework, his mother sets him more homework. This second round of parentally appointed homework tends to require more time, more effort and more thought than the work he is required to do for school. The mother calculates that he should have enough homework to keep him busy until midnight, at the least.

Some nights there is too much homework. Some nights his mother overdoes the extra homework and the little boy is unable to finish it before midnight. Does the mother then let him sleep, for school in the morning? No. He is required to work on, until he finishes, sometimes not until one or two a.m.

Once the boy awakes, at perhaps five thirty a.m., from too short a sleep, he is off to school, for another full day at school, knowing, all the while, that home will be no respite. When he returns home, an endless evening of homework awaits him.

This is a nine year old boy's life, in Singapore. It is also a true story.

Now, how do you think this endless round of academic demands and incessant home and schoolwork makes this boy feel? What is his young life like? Is it a happy one? Is he stressed? Will he grow up with fond memories of his "childhood"? Will he know what it is like to play with friends? Will he ever have any friends? How long will he be able to keep up the pace before he can no longer go on?

This last question is of particular relevance because there is something I have not yet told you about this real life young boy. He has a pacemaker. That is right: he has an electronic device inside his chest, keeping his heart going at times when it feels like stopping.

This little boy, who lives a life of incessant homework and endless school days, and never ending academic demands, has a heart problem. The question is: did his stressful academic life cause his heart troubles? Is his parentally imposed way of life in danger of killing him? I am not privy to the cause of his heart problems and whether his stressful schooling is actually the cause - but it is clear that his daily late nights and endless study sessions cannot be helping his health. It is even possible that this rigorous "education" will lead him to an early death.

So, why is his mother doing this to her son? She says that she wants to make sure that her son "gets a good job" when he grows up. She seems to have overlooked the fact that she is greatly impairing his chances of ever living long enough to grow up in the first place, with her educational regimen.

This boy never sleeps a proper night's sleep. He never rests. He never plays. He is ever working, endlessly scribbling, never ceasing to cover pages with his jottings. He knows nothing of life, but that of the answering of workbook questions, the learning of school material, the solution of maths problems, and the like. He is ever tired, ever wishing to sleep - and on top of all this, he has a heart that could stop at any minute, were it not for a pacemaker keeping him alive.

This is a Singapore schoolboy's life. This is the result of the kiasu ("afraid to lose") attitude of the parents. It seems to me, in this case, to be no coincidence that "kills" and "kiasu" both begin with "ki...", for surely this regimen could kill this boy.

This is just one case of kiasu parenting that I have come across. No doubt Singapore is filled with variants on this tale. I rather feel it is time to set aside the kiasu mentality. It does nothing to ensure the future of Singapore and its people - but rather does much to ensure that they will suffer too much to have much of a future.

If this boy survives his childhood - which, I would have thought is far from certain - he will have had one of the most unhappy of childhoods he could have had. I very much doubt whether he will become a balanced, happy, contributing adult. It is more likely that he will spend the rest of his life (if he survives) trying to overcome the damage done to him by the childhood he endured.

The most poignant thing about all of this, perhaps, is that the mother will have convinced herself that she is showing "love" of her boy, by trying to ensure that he has the brightest possible future. Perhaps she should settle for giving him the nicest possible present. After all, this particular boy may not even live to see that future she imagines - especially if she continues to ignore his health needs, as she is.

So, if you ever feel yourself overcome with a wave of kiasu-ness, please think on this Singaporean story of a schoolboy. Do you want your kid to have this kind of childhood?

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, a scientific child prodigy, aged eight years and seven months, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, five years exactly, and Tiarnan, twenty-eight months, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html I also write of gifted education, IQ, intelligence, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, College, University, Chemistry, Science, genetics, left-handedness, precocity, child prodigy, child genius, baby genius, adult genius, savant, wunderkind, wonderkind, genio, гений ребенок prodigy, genie, μεγαλοφυία θαύμα παιδιών, bambino, kind.

We are the founders of Genghis Can, a copywriting, editing and proofreading agency, that handles all kinds of work, including technical and scientific material. If you need such services, or know someone who does, please go to: http://www.genghiscan.com/ Thanks.)

Kiasu and age appropriate toys

In the run up to Christmas, I was in the toy section of a department store, with Tiarnan, who was then one year old.

Nearby there was a very intent Chinese man in his late 30s, I would say. I noticed him because his son was playing among the toys near my own son. This little boy of his, was shorter than Tiarnan, so I would think he must have been less than two years old - probably 18 months, or something.

What was strange about this was that he kept snatching toys off his son and putting them back on the shelf. The toys he took from him were ones with lights and bells and knobs to turn: simple interactive toys, which were, I felt, age appropriate given his apparent youth. The father seemed quite irked at his son's interest in these toys and would substitute a reading preparatory toy which had all the alphabet on it, and really looked rather complicated. I could see that it was labelled "Suitable for 3 to 6 year olds".

I paused at that. This man's son had a clear and strong interest in toys suitable for a one year old. He looked to be between one and two years old, by comparison with Tiarnan who was standing fairly near him. Yet, the father was trying to interest his son in a toy suitable for up to 6 year olds.

What was particularly interesting was what the son did, everytime the father presented him with the reading toy: he looked briefly at it, didn't look at his father and then turned away, to search for the toy that had just been taken from him. Once he had found it, he would resume playing with it again.

The father would just look angry. He would then pull the toy away from his son, or his son away from the toy and again present the reading preparatory toy. It was a battle of the wills. Yet, clearly the father was not going to win this one, since his son completely failed to attempt to interact with the toy presented to him.

Most telling of all, was what the mother was doing, throughout. She was looking on, motionless apart from her lips, which open and shut slightly and rather tensely, as if she wished to speak, but restrained herself. She looked from father to son and back again and did nothing. Clearly, though, she wanted to intervene; clearly she had a different opinion to the father as to what was suitable for the boy.

They were still at it when I left, with Tiarnan.

Though months have passed, this incident stayed with me, for it is emblematic of an attitude Singaporeans are famous for: Kiasu. This is the idea that they must win, that they can't lose or lose out and that they must compete to have it all.

Here was a most kiasu father. He wanted his son to read, just after he had learnt to walk. He didn't want his son to play with mere children's toys (even though the child liked them and they seemed appropriate). He wanted the child to be what the child was not. If the child was ready for reading, he would be showing interest in the reading toy. Yet, he was not. Looking at the boy, it was clear he would not be ready for a few years. Here, was a father who was not going to "lose out"...his son had to read before his neighbours'/friends'/relatives' children did etc etc.

I have reflected upon this. This man didn't know the difference between wanting the best for his son and wanting his son to be the best. They are far from being the same. If the child was ready for reading, then it would be appropriate to give him the toy presented. He might then be the earliest reader in the father's social circle. That is fine if it is so. However, unless the child is actually like that, then you cannot make him be so: the child cannot be made to be the "best" unless that is already in him.

Perhaps this father had heard of an early reader and was now competing with this other child, through his son. This is a common product of kiasu thinking. However, it is the child that suffers in all this, for the child cannot be what the child is not meant to be.

The attitude of kiasu should be laid to rest. Each and every child should be given what they, as individuals, need. If it is reading material at one years old, that is suitable, that is fine. However, the child should never be made to do that which is inappropriate to that particular child. Let each child be, what each child is.

(If you would like to learn more of Ainan Celeste Cawley, a scientific child prodigy, aged eight years and one month, or his gifted brothers, Fintan, four years and seven months, and Tiarnan, two years exactly, please go to: http://scientific-child-prodigy.blogspot.com/2006/10/scientific-child-prodigy-guide.html I also write of gifted education, IQ, intelligence, the Irish, the Malays, Singapore, College, University, Chemistry, Science, genetics, left-handedness, precocity, child prodigy, child genius, baby genius, adult genius, savant, gifted adults and gifted children in general. Thanks.)