I've been a teacher in S'pore, and yes, our workload is out of control
I still remember those piercing, beady eyes and the hostile index finger jabbing the air between my brows as she screeched about her child getting a mosquito bite during outdoor time at school.
Yes.
A mosquito bite — a tiny, harmless speck — suddenly became my fault.
I also remember the endless, relentless complaints about how we made their children pack up their own toys after playtime, instead of doing it for them.
As if teachers were hired to be their children's personal servants.
And then came the emails and calls at ungodly hours — the next morning met with venomous chides because we "didn't check our emails". Sleep? Apparently, that was a luxury teachers were never meant to enjoy.
My three long-short years as a preschool teacher, starting in 2021, though deeply fulfilling in some moments, were also the most exhausting, relentless, and harrowing of my life.
The recent posts on teachers' workloads by former Ministry of Education (MOE) teacher Jo Ann Kuek brought all these memories rushing back. I can almost hear educators across Singapore collectively sighing, trauma-bonding over yet another public outcry — an abyss of systemic issues that has persisted for decades.
Shawn Loh, Member of Parliament (MP) and newly appointed adviser to the Singapore Teachers Union and Education Services Union, put it succinctly in parliament earlier this month: "One hour in the classroom is much more tiring than one hour in parliament."
Teachers already carry the heavy weight of academic expectations and classroom management. Now, in a society where some parents are intensely invested in their child's education and welfare, these pressures compound — turning an already stressful profession into an almost unbearable one.
Classroom chaotic beyond comprehension
In October, it was reported that Singapore teachers rank as the third hardest-working in the world, averaging 47.3 hours per week.
Of those hours, only 17.7 are spent teaching; the rest are consumed by lesson planning, marking, administrative work, extra curricular activities, and communication with parents.
Teachers today spend more than half their working hours on tasks other than teaching — a reality often invisible to both the public and policymakers.
While MOE has introduced measures over the years to ease teachers' workloads — such as strengthening school administrative teams and rolling out artificial intelligence (AI) tools — the longstanding solution remains elusive.
As Ms Kuek also pointed out, reducing class sizes continues to be the "sacred cow that MOE refuses to kill".
I considered myself lucky to have been in a private preschool, where teacher-child ratios were lower. Yet even with three teachers for 24 four-year-olds, the classroom was chaotic beyond comprehension.
In public preschools, however, the recommended ECDA guidelines state one teacher for every 25 six-year-olds. In local primary schools, it climbs to roughly one teacher for every 30 students.
The cruel icing on the cake of these already staggering stats is the countless additional duties — documentation, child portfolios, events, training, and endless paperwork.
For preschool teachers, it doesn't stop there: we're on our knees cleaning up poop and vomit, rocking babies to sleep, feeding multiple children at once, and literally and figuratively holding the hands of both kids and parents.
Honestly, even octopus legs wouldn't suffice.
The workload of teachers is relentless — and frankly, frightening — yet largely overlooked by those outside the profession.
Parental expectations push teachers to the brink
Today, parents are more involved than ever in their child's education and well-being — sometimes, I would even argue, excessively so.
Three years under the intense scrutiny of hyper-involved parents was no joke. Their sky-high expectations and hypersensitivity pushed many teachers to the brink.
We often had to tread carefully around such parents, where even a mosquito bite could spark outrage.
Then there was the expectation of immediate communication — being at their beck and call, even at 2am.
The blaming and unrealistic perceptions of their children added another layer of stress. It was always "My child never behaves like this at home," rather than "We will address this at home."
In truth, some parents were essentially micro-managing us.
Being in a high-end private preschool, there was also a sense of entitlement tied to school fees — as if we were customer service representatives rather than educators.
Every day felt like a war.
Anxiety ran high, fuelled by the constant fear of complaints and the emotional labour teachers endure daily.
Quiet sobs and sniffles through the gaps in toilet doors were not uncommon.
These expectations aren't driven by parents alone. They are reinforced by management, amplified by government policies, and echoed by society at large.
Another suggestion Ms Kuek raised for MOE was to conduct "unannounced visits" to schools, instead of the meticulously orchestrated ones where students and teachers are pre-empted and prepped with scripted interview responses.
I was once hand-picked for one of these interviews myself — the experience was nerve-wracking, and frankly, far too premeditated and detached from reality.
All these layers of expectation only compound the stress teachers already carry.
It's no wonder turnover rates remain high: 40 per cent of MOE teachers under the age of 30 intend to leave the profession within the next five years.
Underlying issues remain
Teaching in Singapore is exhausting, emotionally draining, and too often, thankless.
With heavy workloads, long hours, and sky-high expectations, many — including myself — burn out or eventually leave the profession.
While new policies and tools may help at the margins, the underlying issues remain: oversized classes, unrealistic expectations, and systemic pressures that make a noble job feel nearly impossible.
If Singapore truly values its educators, it's time to look beyond statistics and rhetoric, and confront the structural problems pushing teachers to the brink.
After all, the well-being of our children is inextricably intertwined to the well-being of those who teach and care for them.
The writer was a pre-school teacher from 2021 to 2024.
