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The Tuition Centre on Every Corner

The Tuition Centre on Every Corner

School ends at 1pm. The child is at the tuition centre by 3. This is considered a normal Tuesday.

Malaysia has built a tuition industry of significant scale. The shophouses and ground-floor units in residential areas that contain tuition centres are found in almost every neighbourhood with a middle-income or aspirational population. Subjects covered: Mathematics, English, Bahasa Malaysia, Science, Chinese, and, for the older students, whatever is required for the next major examination. The centres operate evenings and weekends. Some have waiting lists.

The expenditure involved is not trivial. A family sending one child to two or three subjects of weekly tuition might spend RM300 to RM500 a month on it. A family with two children in the system might spend more than that. Over the years of schooling, the total accumulates into a significant household line item that doesn't appear in anyone's standard list of education costs.

What's being purchased is, in theory, additional academic support. In practice, it's also something else: insurance against the anxiety of falling behind. The reasoning runs like this. If other children are attending tuition, a child who doesn't attend is at a disadvantage. If other children are ahead, catching up becomes harder. The tuition centre is where the levelling happens, or where the advantage is maintained.

This logic is circular in a way that has produced an arms race. As tuition becomes widespread, its absence becomes notable. As the curriculum becomes understood primarily through the lens of examination performance, everything that helps with examination performance becomes necessary. The school is the official venue. The tuition centre is where the actual preparation happens, or is assumed to happen, which amounts to the same thing for anxious parents.

What gets crowded out is less visible. A child who attends school for six hours and tuition for two more is not a child with much unstructured time. Unstructured time is where boredom lives, and boredom is one of the conditions under which children invent things, read things nobody assigned, follow interests that have no examination value. None of this shows up in exam results.

The parents who send their children to tuition are not wrong to worry. The examinations are real and the stakes attached to them are real. A child who performs poorly at UPSR or PT3 or SPM faces genuine restrictions on the paths available to them. The rational response to a high-stakes environment is to take the stakes seriously.

What's worth asking is whether the stakes are calibrated correctly, and whether the system that produced the tuition industry as a necessary supplement to itself is working as intended, or has simply created a second layer of education that everyone must now pay for separately.

The tuition centre on the corner is open from 3pm to 8pm on weekdays and all day Saturday. The child cycling over to it with a backpack full of workbooks is doing what makes sense in the environment that exists.

Whether the environment makes sense is a different question, and not one the child is old enough to be asked.