Looking back, our PSLE journey was nothing short of extraordinary.

At the start of Primary 6, after my daughter had recovered from the severe anxiety attacks she experienced in the second semester of Primary 5 (caused by a couple of unfortunate life events, not academics), I thought we had finally reached a calm, stable place. I was ready for us to put in our best effort for the last lap of her primary school years.

The first half of the year passed quickly and uneventfully, except for a small twist. During Term 2, a bit of puppy love developed between her and her deskmate. They messaged each other frequently. I was initially uncomfortable with this, but when I noticed the boy could cheer her up when she was upset, I felt somewhat reassured. At least someone was showing her empathy in school.

When the June holidays came, I was mentally prepared for an intense period of revision. My plan was to bring her to the library often, lest she got too relaxed at home. I had it all mapped out.

After some early-holiday fun, I took her to the library in mid-June for our first study session. But the moment we arrived, she said she needed the toilet. A short while later, she came out telling me she was not feeling well. We immediately headed home, and the next few days passed in a blur.

On 23 June (my birthday 😢) my husband went for his usual basketball game and returned with what he thought was a bad ankle sprain. It got worse over the next two days. After visits to the polyclinic, A&E and specialist, we learned it was actually a ruptured Achilles tendon, requiring surgery.

Life quickly became chaotic.

When school reopened, my daughter discovered that the boy no longer wanted to speak to her. Teacher change the class seating arrangement termly so they weren't seated together by then. Her questions about why went unanswered, and eventually, he told her she "yapped too much". Soon after, his entire friend group stopped being her friends. The only interactions she received were teasing or sarcastic remarks by the group. 

I had been praying for a calm lead-up to PSLE after the emotional turbulence of Primary 5, but here we were again, facing unkindness that could easily unsettle her emotions.

Meanwhile, my husband's surgery in July led to a series of unexpected medical complications, one of which was very serious, resulting in two more hospitalisations in July and August–September.

The period was spent juggling hospital visits, caring for her at home, and keeping her studies on track. Weekends were spent at the hospital, where she sometimes attended her online lessons from the ward.

After my husband was discharged in September, his recovery involved regular physiotherapy sessions, doctor reviews, daily physio exercise at home, and practise walking along our corridor. While caring for my husband, I also had to ensure my daughter stayed focused and motivated. My husband would mainly be watching TV in the living room as there was nothing much he could do, with difficulties moving around. My daughter would stay in her room, door closed, to do her homework and revisions. 

I wasn’t the best at helping with her revision, but we found our own way. We turned math practice into a friendly competition that kept her motivated. For English, Chinese, and Higher Chinese, I organised past-year papers by question type so she could zoom in and focus on one skill at a time. Science was beyond my ability, but thankfully she managed it well on her own.

Some days, the pressure got to her, and I would give her little pep talks to remind her that effort mattered far more than scores. As long as she had given her best and left no regrets, that was enough. The rest was never ours to control. I told her that no matter the results, this journey itself was already a milestone worth celebrating.

For the three days before PSLE, P6 students were given study break at home, with school teachers conducting online lessons and gamified revision sessions for that 3 days, to help them prepare.

Then, just two days before PSLE, during an online revision game, my daughter received a “power” to freeze everyone's screen for a few seconds. Some classmates got upset. One girl messaged another, scolding my daughter harshly. This conversation (filled with unkind words, insults and vulgarities) was then screenshotted and posted on the girl's WhatsApp status for others to see. Several classmates joined in to repost it to express agreement.

My daughter eventually saw the screenshot. Being labelled with such hurtful words, especially by people she thought were her friends (she knew the girl who first shared the screenshot since preschool), devastated her. She cried badly. I wanted to tell the teacher but held back as it was too close to PSLE. Instead, I contacted the girl's mother, but her daughter's explanation (relayed to me by the mother) was, in my view, untruthful. I chose not to ask anything further.

A few classmates apologised later, likely only because I had messaged one of their mothers. The night before the first PSLE paper, my daughter cried again recalling the incident. My heart broke. I was furious but helpless. All I had wanted was a peaceful period of preparation, yet so many difficult things happened, one after another. It felt as if everything that could go wrong did, and all beyond my control.

But I’m deeply grateful that when she shared the incident with her 2 tuition teachers, they responded with empathy and genuine care. Their understanding words made her feel seen and supported, which helped ease her heart before the exams. 

After PSLE, school life became fun and carefree again. Even though the boy and his friends continued to be unkind, my daughter faced it all with quiet strength. The days after PSLE were filled with laughter and excitement as the school organised a series of enjoyable programmes for them. On days without any events, she spent her time happily playing board games and chess with friends (the things she’s always loved).

By the time the graduation ceremony came around, Daddy had almost recovered, and we could walk to school together again, just like we used to. During the graduation performance (assigned by the teacher), she even performed alongside some of the girls who had posted those hurtful WhatsApp statuses, meeting the moment with a bravery only she knew. Sitting in the audience that day, watching her perform with them, was an emotional moment I’ll never forget. It was hard to hold back my tears.

Then came results day. We walked into school nervous beyond words. Tears welled up in my eyes many times while the teachers and principal were giving their speech. When my daughter collected her results, I could not hold back my tears anymore. They were not out of sadness or joy, but pride. Despite everything (emotional setbacks, social challenges, and family stress), she had made it through the journey.

It felt like we could finally close this chapter. After all the ups and downs, we could now look forward to the next stage with a lighter heart.