What does the public response to a national tragedy have in common with teaching our next generation?
Two months ago, at the observation deck in KLIA, we stood before colourful scribblings on a gigantic and otherwise plain canvas, marvelling at the sheer magnitude of thoughts and wishes that went out towards the missing Flight MH370.
Thousands of beautiful, hand-drawn and bright-coloured messages by Malaysian children stood out as a representation of the people’s hope that the plane would one day be found. One particular message that caught our gaze displayed the outline of six hands - each one a different colour, as if to remind us of our unity in diversity. The drawing, though by our standards amateur, seemed almost oblivious to the undercurrents of our modern-day discourses of race.
It didn’t take long, however, for the ugly side of public discourse to ensue. Soon, the initial support for the government’s Search and Rescue efforts turned into an overwhelmingly passionate distaste for inefficiency and ineffective communications.
In the meantime, our national leaders responded through a plethora of ways - from displaying courage under pressure, to diverting media attention, to simply keeping mum. The search for MH370 had now shared the same fate that often befalls many of our other national problems - a game of blame. Where did we go wrong?
Blame as the first resort
Growing up separately in both East and West Malaysia in the late 1980s, both of us had vastly different experiences of the ‘Malaysian identity’ - yet in the unfolding of our national narrative, certain elements in our individual stories have been strikingly familiar.
Ours was a generation that grew up during the Internal Security Act (ISA) days, when one would tread lightly before making an opinion about a “sensitive matter”. But now, with the advent of social media, we are able to contribute to a never-ending public dialogue about our country’s woes, for better or for worse.
Where once the sea of silence and censorship bordered our national discourse, the events of the 2008 political tsunami broke through oppressive systems and oppressed mind-sets to create a more democratic, open and honest Malaysia.
Yet unbeknownst to us, our very strength became our fragility - and within the very freedom that we fought for, a new shackle gripped our national psyche. We are now - more than ever before - quicker to speak than to act, faster to criticise than to commend, and more ready to blame than to take responsibility. In many ways, we, the people, have become a reflection of the very leaders that we so tire of.
In the search for answers to the present problems, we have too often pointed to ‘the other’, instead of internalising our part to play or understanding other situational factors that may contribute to the problem. All of us have what psychologists know to be the ‘Attribution Bias’, an erroneous inference of the causes of events based on our own biased lenses.
But how does the response to a national tragedy have anything in common with the teaching of the next generation?
We are now - more than ever before - facing a ‘next generation’ crisis in our country.
Our modern-day challenge
Academically, our country’s secondary school children rank in the bottom quarter of the OECD Programme for International Student Assessment (Pisa) tests. One out of four local university graduates remain jobless for up to six months after graduating, and a recent survey attributes poor communications skills as the biggest reason for their unemployment.
On the social front, youth crime has been on the rise, with cases more than doubling in the first six months of 2013, as compared to the same period in just the year before.
It is not difficult to highlight our country’s many jarring flaws, and reminisce about the good old days. Sometimes, we even gripe about “kids nowadays” - the superfluousness of their #YOLO culture, and the self-indulgence of the #FearOfMissingOut phenomenon. Indeed, there is no denying the current deficiencies of this generation.
But here’s the thing: what is often overlooked in public discourse - perhaps even avoided - is the sheer casualness with which we bemoan our country’s challenges.
We are all equally at fault for the state of our nation just as much as we are all equally Malaysian. And until we transition from diffusing our blame to taking a collective responsibility, we will never resolve our issues.
This Teacher’s Day, we write to the older generation - who, by virtue of their age and experience - have either the power to give or the perceived right to complain.
Having both been teachers in high-need environments ourselves, we recall with gratitude the teachers who inspired us to become educators: Pn Paramjeet for making English cool, Pn Catherine for believing in her students’ potential, Pn Kong for always having a story to share, and Aunty Jenny, for having nurtured hundreds to faith.
We write to you who may think this letter is addressed to someone older, or to the “adults” - when it is really about all of us, who, by simply being able to read this, are educated enough to teach and guide someone younger than ourselves.
Change comes when we all think of ourselves as the “older generation” rather than to look to politicians, law enforcers, and “other people” to take the blame. Change happens when both the fresh-faced, idealistic youth join hands with the wizened, grey-haired elderly to educate the next generation: in the classrooms, lecture theatres, bus stops, restaurants, office spaces and playgrounds.
We are the “older generation”, and change begins when we choose to mentor rather than to ridicule, to understand rather than to dismiss, to contribute rather than to complain. Perhaps on this Teacher’s Day, beyond thanking our former teachers, we could repay their favour by partnering with them to raise the next generation.
And perhaps, as citizens of our beloved country, we can all find our place in our collective Malaysian identity, by being part of the solution rather than merely bemoaning the problems.
Sources
1. Pisa
3. Youth crime
ABEL CHEAH and JACINTHA TAGAL are 2012 Teach For Malaysia Alumni who are passionate about education in Malaysia.
