Singapore faces a myriad challenges.

Geopolitical ructions are forcing a rethink of established trade and economic models. Tariffs are disrupting business operations. But arguably the biggest upheaval will come from technology. Artificial Intelligence (AI) threatens to make some university degrees obsolete and erase jobs. Graduate unemployment is already on the rise, and not just in Singapore.

Singapore’s Response

The Singapore government seems to have one formula to tackle all our challenges: “Resilience.” We must build a resilient economy (starting with a resilience task force!), a resilient work force, and future cohorts of resilient children.

The last is, in my opinion, the most critical. But beyond the aspiration, exactly what does this entail?

Resilience, at its core, is the ability to pick yourself up after you fail. It requires curiosity for the new and adaptability to the different when the first effort doesn’t succeed. Individuals who develop differently or at varied stages must have room to thrive. The system must itself be agile, adapting its pathways to changing environments, technology and needs.

AI can already replace some tasks undertaken by employees. No human will outdo technology in remembering textbook content. Where the human can shine is in making sense of the information AI generates and determine its implications: i.e. critical analysis. AI cannot predict human response or “read a room.” This is where interpersonal skills come in. Large language models base their output on reams of historical product so there will be space for true creative content generation and innovation. AI also cannot replace the human touch or connection. The future economy will pay a premium for people skills.

If these are the gaps in AI’s current offering, how should the Singapore education system evolve?

The Singapore Education System

Among Asian families, education is still seen as the main determinant of a child’s future success. As Singaporean couples have fewer children, parents pour more of their resources, efforts and hopes into the few or single children they have. The concomitant weight of expectation on the child is also greater.

From the child’s birth, parents apply for popular pre-schools, save for a home near top schools (as this affects admission), and plot the child’s future subjects and co-curricular activities (CCAs) for a place at the best university.

“Top” schools and “best” universities are determined largely by the academic scores of students. They are thus incentivised to focus on academics, and groom pupils with scholastic potential. This focus on examination results means parents pack their children’s schedules with enrichment classes.

The primary school years should be filled with discovery, play and developing social skills. But children have little head space for imagination and creativity, and less time to make friends at play.

CCAs were originally designed to build physical, creative and social skills. In my day, I could try different sports and activities. These days, to secure direct admission to a good secondary school, children have to choose their CCA early, and commit to it, or risk losing “points” that affect admission. Preschoolers are hot-housed in sporting academies because only those with potential to represent the school in tournaments are selected for the coveted CCAs.

For the same reason, CCAs are also often picked based on that school’s track record. Kids are forced into CCAs outside their natural talents and interests.

Achievement in CCAs becomes an added burden on the child—both in time commitment and pressure to excel. The system, well-meaning to start, has created unintended negative consequences.

To pay for all this, parents have to work harder. Digital screens often play babysitter. Children interact with others through messaging, hampering the building of interpersonal skills.

This is more than a terrible childhood. It’s not preparing our youth for the future.

Future-Proofing Our Country

The system needs a new design, one that all its stakeholders get behind.

First, let’s allocate time to playing, trying new things and giving children the head space to let their imaginations roam free. Creativity and entrepreneurship will be next to impossible to nurture in scholastic robots. Schools must dial back heavy academic content, teaching enough for students to understand the topic, but leaving mental room to apply critical thinking to what they’ve learned. My husband, educated at Cambridge University, had to read a fraction of the cases I was prescribed at National University of Singapore. He’s a better lawyer than I am, in part because this system allowed him to understand, apply and critically analyse.

Second, make the CCA system less about scoring and more about experiencing. Give students the opportunity to try out different activities, rather than force them to be good at one. Discovery is its own teacher.

Next, allow different development pathways and timelines. Our system supports the gifted but does not create the same opportunities for late bloomers, those that discover skills and interests outside their school’s focus, or cater to the neurodivergent. Having fewer national level exams that lead to streaming will give more space to develop.

In order to do this, the Ministry of Education (MOE) will have to kill some sacred cows The system needs a new design, one that all its stakeholders get behind.

When MOE rolled out the programme for Active Learning in Primary 1-2 for students to learn through purposeful play, concerned parents complained about wasting time that could be put to scholastics. Another contentious proposal—to do away with the national Primary School Leaving Examination—drew parental ire.

The anxiety parents feel is understandable. Parents cannot control the world the child will inherit, so they throw resources into giving them the best equipping. What parents need to realise is that the knowledge they are today imparting to their children will become obsolete, and the heavy pressure to achieve awards and top grades may actually be holding back their kids from skills and experiences that they will need in adult life.

The operating environment of the future will be uncertain and constantly changing. Individuals whose lived experience is not linear, who know what it is to fail and make a comeback, and who are adaptable to different environments, are the ones with the needed survival skills. They will likely cope better than the straight-A student who will discover that their parents’ unspoken promise—if you ace your exams, you will do well in life—is an empty one.

Children will gain more from the occasional defeat than the repeated win; learn more from trying multiple things than focusing on just one discipline. The education system must not just allow—it must encourage—this.

As Desmond Lee, the Minister for Education, said about preparing for an AI-transformed world: We “must teach beyond disciplines, by providing opportunities for self-discovery, resilience-building, and interdisciplinary solutioning for real-world challenges.”

Let’s start with the education system.