A note

As a third-generation Singaporean, my great-grandparents were among the first to move here, making me part of a long-standing tradition of immigrant families who’ve called this country home. Growing up in Singapore, I had a relatively normal childhood, but one thing that stood out was the strong emphasis my family placed on staying connected to our roots and preserving our language and culture. This connection was not just a family value—it was something embedded in my education, specifically through my years at the Singapore Sikh Education Foundation (SSEF), where I was enrolled in Punjabi school from a young age.

Language, in many ways, has been a thread woven into the fabric of my upbringing. My parents, along with my grandmother, grandfather, and aunt, all taught at the SSEF Punjabi school for many years. This made the importance of speaking Punjabi and staying connected to our culture a fundamental part of my identity. My siblings and I were enrolled in Punjabi school from as early as K2 and continued all the way up to A-Levels, with our family members often there to support us along the way. I never realized it at the time, but these formative experiences shaped how I view language and cultural identity today.

My Punjabi School Experience 

Looking back, my time at Punjabi school was, overall, a relatively easy experience. Since my family always spoke Punjabi at home, I already had a head start, and learning the language in school came quite naturally. With my mother, along with other family members, being well-educated in Punjabi, I had a lot of help at home, which made succeeding in school even easier. However, when I was younger, I didn't always appreciate the commitment that Punjabi school required.

Unlike my peers who had mother tongue classes integrated into the mainstream school schedule, I had to attend Punjabi school on Saturdays, from 8:30 AM to 12:30 PM. In my eyes, this felt unfair. While others got their weekends free, we Punjabi-speaking students had to spend ours in school, studying our mother tongue. It was a bit of a hassle, especially when you’re a kid, and the idea of spending Saturdays in class didn’t always feel like the best way to spend my weekend.

That said, Punjabi school wasn’t all about lessons and textbooks. There were many fun events, celebrations, and activities that helped us learn about our culture. I have some fond memories of the annual Sports Day, where students from different centers would gather to compete in various sports. I especially looked forward to the netball competition, where my friends and I would form teams and join in the friendly competition. It was one of the highlights of the year for many of us, and it allowed us to bond over something other than academics. Despite the fact that school felt less serious compared to regular school, I was still expected to perform well, given that my mother was a teacher there.

As I grew older and moved through secondary school, things started to change. After secondary school, many of my friends and I went in different directions—junior college, polytechnic, or ITE—and gradually, I lost touch with many of my closest friends from Punjabi school. It was one of the inevitable results of growing up, but it also marked a shift in my relationship with the school.

SSEF’s Punjabi school held classes on Saturdays within the classrooms of regular "English" schools. Initially, there were multiple centers spread across Singapore, including locations in Clementi, Bedok, and Yishun (known as Khalsa Centre). Over time, however, due to declining enrollment, the number of centers was reduced to just two by the time I was in secondary school and eventually consolidated into one by the time I reached my later years in school.

Unlike mainstream schools, where students undergo continuous assessments, the Punjabi school had only two major exams each year: a mid-year exam and an end-of-year exam. There were no periodic tests or continuous assessments, which made the experience of studying Punjabi quite different from other academic subjects. Furthermore, while other mother tongue students were given two attempts to take their A-Level exams, we only had one opportunity, which was a stark difference that felt like a disadvantage at times.

The Importance of NTIL Languages

NTIL languages like Punjabi, Hindi, and Urdu have always played an important role in Singapore’s education system, but there’s no denying that these languages have historically been at a disadvantage compared to the more widely spoken mother tongues of Chinese, Malay, and Tamil. Growing up, I was fortunate to have the opportunity to study Punjabi as my official mother tongue in school, and I am grateful for it. This experience gave me a sense of fairness and allowed me to connect with my cultural identity in a way that felt just as valid as the experiences of students from other ethnic communities.

I’ve heard of some Punjabi families who, for various reasons, have opted to have their children study Chinese as their mother tongue. While I understand that this decision might be made for practical reasons, such as the belief that Chinese might offer more advantages in Singapore’s multicultural society, I’m thankful that my parents chose to have me learn Punjabi. Going to Punjabi school allowed me to form friendships with other members of the Punjabi community, something that might have been difficult otherwise in Singapore, where the Punjabi community is relatively small. The connections I made there still form an important part of my social circle today.

Hopes for the Future

As I reflect on my experience, I realize that my time at Punjabi school was much more than just a language lesson. It was an opportunity to learn about my culture, build lifelong connections, and establish a foundation of pride in my heritage. I am hopeful that the future will see even more support for NTIL education, not only in terms of resources but also in terms of societal recognition. While SSEF did a great job with the resources available, I think there's always room for improvement to ensure that all students have access to the same quality of education that those studying the mainstream mother tongues receive.

In the future, I definitely plan to send my children to Punjabi school as well. I want them to have the same opportunity to connect with their culture, language, and community that I had. After all, language isn’t just a way to communicate—it’s a key part of who we are. 

Edited by : Shazneen Hasan