I carried my firstborn, pacing the back of the church. With a gentle bouncing motion, I tried to quieten my baby as she settled down for a nap. 

That sweet, intoxicating newborn scent of milk and the familiar smell of ru yi you (medicated oil) – a whiff of new hope, the sense of a fresh start and the promise of potential. 

I do not remember much from the sermon that day, except the verse that the speaker boomed loud and clear.

“Don’t sacrifice your children on the altar fires to the god Molech. I am the LORD your God, and that would disgrace me.” (Leviticus 18:21 CEV)

I knew exactly what that verse meant for me.

If I were to paraphrase it, it would read: “Do not sacrifice your children on the altar of academic excellence.” 

As a (fairly) successful product of the academic system and later as a secondary school teacher, I had quite a good idea of what it took to do well enough, score those As, get into a good school, go to university and pick a job that will give you a cushy life. 

Having experienced a very narrow version of success and only one way to get there, I felt God was telling me not to force this narrative on my children. 

Do not put these goals higher than Him. Do not cause my children discouragement and despair by seeing academic achievement as of utmost importance. 

And yet over the years, I have grappled with what this means in my parenting. 

Abigail’s husband with their firstborn when she was much younger.

Often, I realised it comes down to fear.

Fear of whether I am teaching my children enough, whether I am preparing them enough, whether they are achieving enough. If not, what would that mean for their future? 

I have had moments of surrendering and trusting God, but also moments of shame at how ingrained this performance narrative dominates my reactions, attitudes and decisions. 

I had become that kind of mum

When my firstborn was seven years old, she came back home with a few careless mistakes in her final year math exam. 

She had a proud look on her face. “Look mum! I got 37/40!” she exclaimed.

But she saw my disappointment. “Aiyah, you could have gotten full marks if you didn’t make those careless mistakes.” 

Then probably, out of genuine bewilderment because it did not make sense to her, she asked: “Why must get full marks?” 

“Of course, you must try!” I replied, as if full marks was the only grade worth getting, negating all her efforts as commendable or praiseworthy. 

I let my unrealistic expectations of perfection discourage her little soul and belittled something that she was so proud of. 

The ugly truth was I honestly did not care about the careless mistakes, but I cared that they might have cost her a spot among the top three pupils of her class. 

Was that important to her? Nope. But it was important to me because I saw it as a KPI that I was doing well as a stay-home mum. 

How my kids did in school became my marker for achievement and self-worth. I had become that kind of mum. 

It was a shocking realisation that after the day in church seven years ago, I was still struggling with my identity, entangling my worth with how well my child performed.

My success story

After that incident, I learnt to at least try to celebrate my child’s achievements and be genuinely happy – even if the results were not stellar. 

I have come a long way, and I can say with all honesty that as long as she puts in her best effort, I am happy with whatever marks she comes back with. 

For instance, earlier this year, she came back with 7/55 for her Math Paper 2. 

I blinked and smiled. “It’s okay … let’s see how we can improve,” I said. Will you celebrate with me?

This year, my firstborn is doing her PSLE. I don’t have a success story to tell yet.

Oh wait, I do. This is my success story.

Abigail with her firstborn Kyra. Both husband and wife decided to major on the process and minor on the results.

I am not so hung up over the grades, or the points or the school she will go to. She is deciding all those by herself. 

She has developed her own mind, identity and confidence, and my husband and I are happy to be at the sidelines offering her prayer and counsel while she makes the final decisions. 

We are majoring on the process and minoring on the results – having my daughter do daily, consistent work; not putting too much emphasis on the outcome and just trying to make incremental improvements; and apportioning time for study, play and other things she wants to do.

Taking time out to explore the outdoors as a family.

For us, PSLE is not an all-or-nothing. In fact, our days look pretty much like every other day: Work, computer games, chores, play dates, church. Because life should go on, even in the midst of exam preparation. 

While we don’t quite believe “every school is a good school”, I truly believe there will be a right school for my child – and God has the final say. 

He cares and loves my children, and He has more beautiful plans than we can ever scheme or devise. 

As the song Goodness of God goes: “All my life You have been faithful. All my life You have been so so good … With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God.” 

All my life He has never failed me, and He will not fail me nor my children now. 

I wrote the above two years ago and never published it anywhere. 

But I wanted to close the loop and share what I have learnt, especially after my firstborn’s PSLE results were released.

I finally learnt to celebrate 

It was a gruelling wait. My daughter was register number 40 – the last one to be called up. 

The whole time we were waiting, I kept saying to myself: “Behave yourself. Whatever the results, just celebrate. Don’t dampen her high spirits. Even if you’re disappointed, you’re not allowed to let it show because this is the result she worked so hard for.”

I passed! I passed the test.

When my daughter saw her result slip, she cried with joy and I found myself crying with her too. She had improved from her preliminary exams and was very satisfied.

She got into the school of her dreams (and is still enjoying herself there now)!

The family serving in church together as ushers. This year, their second child is taking the PSLE.

One day our daughter told us out of the blue: “Thank you Mum and Dad. I thought PSLE year would be a lot worse, but it was manageable.” That was the best validation for me and my husband. 

Back then, we prioritised her emotional well-being and respected her choices and plans. We had a baseline of some non-negotiables, but she decided her study periods and how hard she wanted to push herself.  

My husband and I often had conversations about whether this was the right way to go or if we should have pushed her harder. 

It was new ground for us because the narrative we heard from more experienced parents was how they got their child additional tuition, took no-pay leave, banned computer games and halted their lives just to give it their all for the PSLE. 

In the end, our conversations always ended with: “She’s doing okay. Let’s just trust her, and trust that God knows what He’s doing and how He will lead her.”

Abigail with her second child Zach.

Two years on, it is my turn again as a PSLE mum to my second child. Different child, different challenges, but the same good, good Father. 

As a parent coach, I have also come across different kinds of children, many of whom struggle with distraction and motivation. Here are a few suggestions for what parents can do when a child is unmotivated.

Try to keep them on track and remind them of what motivates them (extrinsic motivation such as playing computer games).

Our job is also to be curious about why they lack intrinsic motivation. Is it because they do not see themselves improving? Are they scared that their efforts will not be rewarded? Or do they not have a vision of a school they want to aim for?

Until the child has a clear vision, our job as parents is to be clear-headed about what their current level of competence is, how to help them improve to the next step, and to let them see that they are capable, that they have our support and that they are worthy of big dreams.

Dear Mums and Dads, you may be anxious or fearful about the exams, or worry about how your children will survive in school, what jobs they will have in future or what kind of lives they will lead. 

I encourage you to take a deep breath, exhale and pray. Be honest with your fears and insecurities, then turn them over to God. 

We have a good, good Father who is on our side, and He will give us and our children everything we need to fulfil His good purposes.

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