The fluorescent lights of the Singaporean secondary school hummed a low, monotonous tune, a soundtrack to the collective dread hanging over Class 3A. It was the first day of Term 3, and that meant one thing: the return of the dreaded "Huo Dong Ben" – the Activity Book for Social Studies.
"Wei Jie," Ms. Priya said. "How about you answer number 12?"
For the first time that term, he didn't close the book. He left it open.
He quickly slammed his notebook shut.
Silence. Then, from the front row, a boy named Raj, who always sat alone, turned around. He gave Wei Jie a small, almost invisible nod.
Each of Ms. Priya’s words was a hammer blow to Wei Jie’s confidence. He wasn't just wrong; he was spectacularly, almost offensively wrong. He felt the familiar heat in his cheeks, the tightening in his chest. He was the only one in the back row whose answers were pure chaos.
Wei Jie felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. He uncapped his pen and began to furiously erase his own answer, the rubber shavings falling like snow on his worn sneakers. Huo Dong Ben Answers Sec 3
"Number one," Ms. Priya called out. "Jun Hao?"
Wei Jie froze. He looked down at his Huo Dong Ben. For this one, he hadn't written a joke. He had written the truth.
The class turned. Wei Jie felt the spotlight. He could lie. He could parrot Jun Hao's answer: "One should foster an inclusive environment by demonstrating empathy and active listening." The fluorescent lights of the Singaporean secondary school
Instead, his mouth opened. "Ms. Priya, I… I didn't write a model answer."
He gripped his pen. He was going to erase it. He had to. It was too real.