[Perspective] Enrolling in a top primary school; a game where the top bidder wins?

Last month, two new education policies were announced in quick succession: first, changes to Primary 1 registration, followed by a trial of smaller class sizes. The latter seems to have attracted little discussion, perhaps because it is too specialised. Primary 1 registration, however, has clearly struck a chord with many. Three days ago, as many as 10 MPs raised questions on the issue in Parliament. I recall that a contribution on this topic published in Lianhe Zaobao’s (LHZB) commentary section not long ago ranked first among all commentary articles for local readership that week.

What left the deepest impression on me was a feature report in The Straits Times’ sunday paper, The Sunday Times, two weeks ago. Only then did I learn that some property agents market themselves as Primary 1 registration “strategists” or “consultants”, specialising in advising parents on how to buy property to help their children gain entry to the narrow gates of elite schools.

The report recounted one case of parents determined to succeed: a mother who was herself an agent began planning for her daughter’s entry into Nanyang Primary School when the girl was three. Her husband first served as a grassroots volunteer, hoping to secure a place during Phase 2B. As a second layer of insurance, the couple bought a S$2.46 million condominium on Duchess Road, placing both Nanyang Primary and their second choice, Raffles Girls’ Primary School, within the 1km radius. In the end, their daughter was unlucky in the ballot for Nanyang, but still received a major consolation prize: a place at Raffles Girls’ Primary in Phase 2C.

The article left me with much to reflect on. For one, this fixation on securing places at elite schools for one’s children is passed down from generation to generation, with wave after wave of parents following suit. Then there is the unfairness built into the system — or, more bluntly, the naked reality of the highest bidder winning. It has long existed, but appears more pronounced than ever, forcing the authorities to intervene.

The new rules contain two main changes. First, most primary schools must transfer more places previously reserved for “insiders” such as alumni and volunteers to Phase 2C, increasing the number of places for families with no links to the school from 40 to 60. Second, 12 popular primary schools with relatively few HDB flats nearby must allocate half of these 60 places to children living more than 2km away, in an effort to reduce the advantage of living near a sought-after school.

Places in Primary 1 at elite schools are undeniably scarce. Whenever scarcity arises in any human society, there is the difficult question of who should receive what, who should be excluded as well as the inevitable disputes over fairness.

In earlier years, educational opportunities themselves were scarce. In my parents’ generation, they were grateful simply to be able to attend school, and the nearer the school, the better. Whether it was an elite school was a secondary, even tertiary, consideration. My father and his siblings attended Gongshang Primary School in the Outram area for no other reason than that the whole family lived nearby, in the part of Kampong Java that had not yet been destroyed by fire.

At the time, most people did not even have a concept of elite schools. When I was young and lived around Redhill, my siblings, cousins and I all attended Alexandra Hill Integrated Primary School, just across the road from our homes. Yes, the school’s name contained the word “integrated” — a reference to a now-defunct trilingual model under which three languages coexisted. We learnt Malay too, as there was a Malay first-language class and Malay-language teachers just next door. A cousin my age was an outstanding student and went on to Raffles Girls’ School, but I do not recall any adult in the family thinking it was something to celebrate. In our minds, she had simply progressed normally to secondary school.

But such an innocent age soon passed. People began to realise that elite schools carried prestige. Primary schools in particular were seen as determining whether a child could secure the best position at the starting line, with implications for future educational pathways and prospects.

Leaving aside whether the role of elite schools has been overstated, one of their “added values” has become increasingly apparent: their students generally come from families that are better off than average, and are typically more driven, hard-working and perhaps better brought up. Children in such an environment are more likely to be positively influenced by their peers, while also gaining stronger networks and social capital later in life. Even if a child is of average ability and does not achieve outstanding grades, the experience of attending an elite school is likely to add something to their life rather than detract from it.

Competition has therefore become ever fiercer, with parents exhausting every means to get their children in. When they fail and the prize goes to someone else, they inevitably feel deprived and may even become resentful. The entire process becomes a form of internal attrition, involving the children too.

The allocation rules we have used for years are, objectively speaking, all reasonable in their own way, but they also contain elements of unfairness. It is difficult to fault parents who volunteer in exchange for a place at a school, since it is a fair exchange. Yet this clearly favours families whose parents have the means and time to contribute. There is less controversy when parents are alumni, but it still partly amounts to one’s background determining one’s prospects. It is not entirely fair and may entrench class divisions across generations.

The distance criterion is the most conflicted of all: it accords with common sense, but also generates the most complaints. Many good schools are located in affluent areas — or, following the logic of “added value” I alluded to earlier, affluent areas are more likely to produce good schools. This relationship inevitably creates clustering and near-monopolies. The couple featured in The Straits Times report, with their determination to succeed backed by the ability to pay, is certainly not an isolated case. In Parliament, Education Minister Desmond Lee cited a percentage that I believe exceeded many people’s expectations: only 15% of students admitted to the 12 popular primary schools in Phase 2C currently live in HDB flats, far below the more than 70% of the population who do.

Of course, the ‘highest-bidder-wins’ principle is not always entirely wrong. Road space is limited, for instance, and not everyone can be allowed to own a car. That is why Singapore created the certificate of Entitlement (COE) system — a system where the highest bidder wins. The money collected can also be used to subsidise public transport, amounting to a form of social transfer. Similarly, whether for private homes or resale HDB flats, a good location is reflected in the price per square foot. This too means the highest bidder wins, yet few see it as unfair. But if places at elite schools were allocated according to postal codes and parents’ financial means, most Singaporeans would surely find that unacceptable.

So what can be done?

I lived on Farrer Road for a time. Across from my home stood several HDB blocks that were nearly half a century old. I once thought they might soon be demolished, given that this was a prime location, but they have remained. A retired colleague who lived there later told me that these flats were highly sought after. Many parents who had set their hearts on Nanyang Primary School were prepared to pay any premium to secure one. I suddenly understood, and admitted that my thinking had been superficial.

When the new registration rules were reported that day, I looked again at the map. I confirmed that if these HDB blocks were indeed demolished, there would be no HDB flats within a 1km radius of Nanyang Primary. Only a few blocks in the Holland estate would remain, just barely within the 2km boundary. Raffles Girls’ Primary, meanwhile, would immediately become the only primary school in Singapore with zero HDB flats within 2km.

Fortunately, HDB flats have been announced for the former Turf City site nearby — reportedly the first in the Bukit Timah area in 40 years. I imagine the Government’s planning is also intended to prevent these two schools from becoming ever more elitist, or even aristocratic. Ordinary Singaporeans would be even less willing to see them become local primary school versions of British public schools such as Eton and Harrow, accessible only to the wealthy. In short, our schools must certainly strive relentlessly to improve teaching quality and reach greater heights, but their student populations should never become too homogeneous.

In fact, beyond building more HDB flats, there may be other approaches. First, could some elite schools be developed into mega primary schools, doubling their intake? Or could they be replicated through more branch campuses? Imagine if, outside Bukit Timah, there were four Nanyang Primary branches in the east, west, north and south. Might that help to dispel the mystique surrounding elite-school brands, or at least satisfy some parents’ desire for a prestigious name?

With declining birth rates and population shifts, we often merge schools or open new ones. Why not take the opportunity to extend the “brand” effect? If each of the 12 most popular primary schools were multiplied four or five times, Singapore would have around 50 “elite schools”. Would that substantially ease parents’ anxiety? Naturally, the quality of branch campuses would initially be questioned. But through the rotation of talent, including principals and teachers, it is not impossible that the gap could be bridged over time.

From the education minister’s parliamentary replies that day, I surmise that MPs raised some of these points. The minister spoke of concerns and difficulties, but everything has its advantages and disadvantages. The ideas are therefore still worth further discussion by all parties to find the best balance.

Second, let us be bold enough to try moving elite schools out of affluent areas.

More than 20 years ago, my eldest son could have registered for Anglo-Chinese School (Primary) on Barker Road in Phase 2A. But we felt its Chinese-language environment was weaker and that there were too many children from wealthy families, so he went instead to Maris Stella High School (Primary) near our home.　　　　

A few years ago, however, Anglo-Chinese School announced that it would move to the new Tengah town in the west in 2030. A special education school will also be located beside the new site. The decision was reportedly initiated and desired by the school itself. At the time, a leader of its board of governors said the move was intended to diversify the student population and enable the school to contribute further to society by bringing high-quality education to broader sections of society.

This socialist-minded vision and foresight impressed me and changed the stereotype I had held for decades of this “posh” school.

In recent years, Singapore has become increasingly resolute in its pursuit of fairness, inclusion and redistribution. In housing, for instance, both the aforementioned Turf City and the developing Berlayar estate in the Greater Southern Waterfront include Build-To-Order projects, with the latter even providing rental flats.

The question is whether the same philosophy can be put into practice in education, and with even greater resolve — for instance, by moving more symbolically significant schools such as Nanyang Primary and Raffles Girls’ Primary out of affluent areas and into HDB neighbourhoods.

Third, the vision that “every school is a good school” must be advanced with greater vigour.

What is a “good school”? My understanding is that it should not be judged by a single standard — such as whether all its students’ average scores clear a certain threshold. Rather, schools should each have their own strengths, creating a landscape in which a hundred flowers bloom, each with its own beauty.

At the secondary level, we have done rather well. Some schools excel in bilingualism and biculturalism, such as the Special Assistance Plan schools; others in sports, the arts, or mathematics and science, such as the NUS High School of Mathematics and Science. Some have strong religious traditions or are supported by deep alumni networks. We can further develop more specialised strengths, such as a focus on Artificial Intelligence (AI), literary and arts appreciation and creation, or particular art forms and competitive sports, making each school’s distinctive features more pronounced.

As for primary schools, some may think that children are still receiving foundational education and that it is too early to develop specialised strengths when their interests and aspirations are unclear. But in my view, schools should still find their own selling points. The “mixed” primary school I attended as a child, for example, offered valuable lessons in racial integration and multilingual, multicultural awareness, though that model no longer exists. There are also fewer boys’ and girls’ schools now, but I believe several are still worth retaining to give parents another choice. The newly announced pilot of flexible class sizes may not be easy to implement nationwide, but it could become a unique selling proposition for some schools in future, as it is more conducive to teaching according to individual aptitude and more likely to maximise every student’s potential.

With all kinds of “good schools”, parents will naturally have more perspectives and reasons for choosing one. If, in addition, students who move more slowly or take a longer route can still eventually reach Rome — and if broader definitions of success mean that everyone has their own Rome — there may be no need to scramble for places at a handful of “elite schools” at the expense of happiness.

The road ahead is long and difficult, however, and it remains uncertain when that day will come.

The author is an editorial consultant at Lianhe Zaobao