Another often overlooked consideration is whether O Level success stories should still be relevant, considering the

government’s supposed intention

to shift the focus away from results.

As recently as 2017, the media still paid close attention to top scorers from prestigious schools. That year, one of the top performers in Anglican High School, with a raw L1R5 score of 8 points, was also the vice-president of the school’s Dance Society. Apparently in her O Level year, she juggled leading roles in a school musical and ballet concert, on top of taking part in the Singapore Symphony Children’s Choir, Singapore Repertory Theatre’s The Young Company, and Singapore Dance Theatre.

Today, even in instances where grades seemingly take a backseat, mainstream media outlets continue to find problematic ways to highlight excellence.

For instance, an article about a deaf student who received his O Level results yesterday mentions that he “should be able” to get into his dream school. His exact score is noticeably absent, with the article focusing on how his family and the school helped him overcome his learning disability to do well, such as through tuition lessons and letting him sit at the front of class.

It also mentions that he has twice represented his school in the International History Bee and Bowl regional division championships.

Superficially, it seems helpful to redefine excellence by shifting the focus to other areas of life, from being able to overcome personal challenges to doing well in CCA, community service, or leadership. After all, a common criticism of the push to de-emphasise grades is that our students would become less competitive.

But for 16-year-olds, it’s suddenly no longer enough to stress over straight A’s. Instead, they must also volunteer regularly, head a CCA committee, work on their portfolio, and cope with a range of personal struggles, in order to be considered successful.

And so, their fear of failure doesn’t just persist; it is aggravated by the amount of ‘new’ areas that they may not do well in.

In the end, these ‘new’ narratives are simply repackaged benchmarks for an existing, outdated model of success. These narratives might seem like the new normal, but they are driven by the same constant, heightened state of anxiety that fuels the desire for good grades, along with our persistent need to quantify a person’s ability and productivity.

From Reddit threads where students compare their L1R5 scores to forums on Kiasu Parents comparing the cut-off points for secondary schools, it’s apparent that doing better than their peers still matters to students. Competition and results are ingrained into the Singaporean psyche.

Most crucially, Generation Z is the first generation to grow up with the internet, so social media tends to serve as the main source of their knowledge about the world. Being perpetually bombarded by information from a young age, they tend to be hyper aware of the stories they’re being told about who they are and who they’re supposed to be.

As a result, they may simply drift towards the narrative that’s the loudest. When it comes to defining success, this translates into pushing oneself to be an impossible all-rounder, having internalised the idea that their sense of self-worth stems from how valuable they are to society.

And society, as we tell them, values a narrow definition of excellence born from an equally narrow definition of hard work. The success we want them to achieve still exists within a school environment, instead of through alternative avenues, whether it’s pursuing a hobby or geeky, unrelated interests.

So reducing the pressure on our students is not really about reducing the focus on grades. It’s fundamentally about addressing the needless hyper excellence and overachievement that we strive for in all areas of life.

When we comment on the tendency for our youth to put pressure on themselves, we must also consider how they understand meritocracy, how we continue to perpetuate certain myths about success and failure, and the ways that we must change our coverage of education success.

To create the change we want to see, embracing a more candid narrative should pave the way for more inclusive and empathetic definitions of both success and excellence among students, parents, and policy makers.

But until we realise that shifting the focus from grades must encompass more than merely talking less about grades, our national narratives about education will continue to miss the mark.