By Clarissa Oon, Senior Political Correspondent
CHANGE is in the air for Chinese language tests and exams in Singapore's schools, to cater to a growing group of students from predominantly English-speaking homes.
The unspoken assumption is that an English-speaking family background is like a golf handicap that must be factored into the rules of the game, to create a more level playing field and not put certain players off entirely.
But from my experience, and that of a few friends, the fact that we spoke almost entirely English at home was no obstacle at all to liking Chinese in school and becoming reasonably proficient in it.
The impact of the home environment on language acquisition is something that deserves to be studied more closely, as the Ministry of Education (MOE) embarks on the latest of numerous revamps of Chinese-language education.
The Government's view - articulated by the Prime Minister, Minister Mentor and most recently, Education Minister Ng Eng Hen - is that a decisive shift must be made in the way Chinese is taught and examined, since six in 10 of Primary One students now come from mainly English-speaking families.
Those with aptitude can pursue the language at a high level. For average students, educators are exploring different types of tests with less stress on writing.
Bear in mind that in recent years, Chinese education has already become very flexible. Students are able to refer to Chinese dictionaries in exams, they can take modules tailored to their language proficiency and Chinese teachers use all kinds of interactive teaching aids.
There is nothing wrong with regularly updating how subjects are taught and tested, but one should not be overly swayed by statistics showing changing linguistic dynamics at home.
Further tweaks to the system could inadvertently lower the bar in Chinese-language proficiency for the average Chinese Singaporean student, even as the MOE says overall standards will remain acceptable.
Speaking from personal experience, I could not have come from a more quintessentially English-speaking family, but this proved no barrier to lasting three years in Beijing as a China correspondent for this newspaper.
Mandarin is a foreign tongue to my parents, my father being Peranakan, and my mother Hokkien. We have always spoken English at home.
My earliest influences were all in English, whether it was television, radio, newspapers or Enid Blyton novels.
When I entered Primary One, I could not even write my Chinese name.
My worried parents got me a friendly and approachable young tuition teacher who took me through every stroke and every tone of the initially unfamiliar language.
For my Primary School Leaving Examination, I scored an A for Chinese, much to everyone's surprise, including my own.
Taking the plunge, my parents let me enrol in a Special Assistance Plan (SAP) secondary school where Chinese was taught as a first language.
As I was already listening heavily to English pop songs and experimenting with writing English-language poetry, the SAP school environment was a bit of a culture shock.
Outside the classroom, Mandarin was spoken as often as English. Subjects like art and music were taught in Chinese and after school, my classmates were singing xinyao (1980s Singaporean Chinese folk songs).
English language and literature continued to be my best subjects. Yet that SAP school immersion - the closest thing to a Chinese-language environment in late 1980s Singapore - was instrumental in helping me cope with the demands of a China posting much later on.
I would not say I have a flair for languages. Chinese was always hard work, as it has been for the friends I know who spoke English at home, but did relatively well in Chinese in school.
Clearly, what matters most is a positive attitude and broader environmental factors, including teachers and informal learning through popular culture or Chinese-speaking friends.
One friend from an English-speaking family recalls how her love for lyrical pop songs by xinyao pioneer Liang Wenfu and Hong Kong star Faye Wong led to an affinity for the Chinese language, so much so that she opted to take Chinese literature as an O-level subject.
'I had a songbook in which I copied Chinese song lyrics and I remember going to the dictionary to find out what the words meant. I think I admired the Chinese language for its complexity and poetry,' she says.
Another friend, of mixed Chinese and Eurasian parentage, aced Chinese in school and continues to read widely in the language. She boils it down to 'never having the fear or dislike of the language', as well as encouraging teachers who held her up as a model for other students.
It is crucial to note that because of the linguistic hybridity of everyday Singaporean reality, children from predominantly English-speaking homes are not starting with totally blank slates when it comes to Primary One Chinese.
A survey of 56 English-speaking households, conducted by Chinese daily Lianhe Zaobao last month, showed that some Mandarin was spoken occasionally by half of the families. Only 12.5 per cent of the families spoke exclusively English.
Of course, there are those from English-speaking backgrounds who dislike and struggle with Chinese. This is as much the case now as in the old days, when the curriculum was more difficult.
But everyone has different aptitudes for different subjects. Why should Chinese be singled out for special scrutiny?
The MOE has said that the impending review will not compromise Chinese standards, as good students can still go as far as they want with the language.
But the average student matters too.
The average Chinese Singaporean student should receive a decent foundation in Chinese. What is at stake is not just their ability to function in Chinese-speaking environments, should work bring them into contact with a rising China.
There is also the threat of a dwindling audience and readership for Chinese-language media and culture in Singapore. Whether it is Chinese music, theatre, literature or newspapers, they have had a long and distinguished history here.
To be cut off from these is to lose a part of our cultural identity and discourse, and that would be a tragedy.
This article was first published in The Straits Times.
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