The Direct School Admission (DSA) selection period came and went. (DSA offers a pathway to secondary schools based on students’ interests, aptitudes and potential, beyond their PSLE results.)
Some of my son’s classmates got their shortlisting calls. I concluded that he didn’t make it.

"Okay lor," my 12-year-old acknowledged when I brought it up.

Then he went back to whatever tweens do after noteworthy news; namely, shooting the breeze with his classmates on his chat group.

Meanwhile, I moped.

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My interest in DSA had kicked in months ago. I had wanted my child to have a shot at DSA. It’s not that I desperately wanted him to go to a particular school. But I kept thinking: Why not try? What if he gets in? It'd open up a whole new world.

I read up on schools. I compared their different DSA talent areas. I attended webinars. I made excel sheets to inform my strategy.

Even before knowing if he would be selected, I practised interview questions with my son.

"What are your strengths? What would your teachers say about you? Why do you want to join this school?"

Shrug. "I dunno."

Pause. "My mum wants me to."

"Wrong answer!"

"But you said honesty is the best policy!"

I tried to change the topic.

"If you don't get shortlisted, will you be disappointed?"

He barely looked up from his laptop where he was trying to complete his school assignment.

"Nah."

I felt smug. Look at that: Growth mindset. Resilience. My parenting - and the school's character education - must be working.

But that interaction was an indication of what was really going on.

+++

Somewhere along the way, DSA had become my pet project. I was the one researching, rehearsing, and rallying - not him. My child just tagged along for the ride.

The more I researched, the hungrier I got. Before I knew it, I was in deep, dwelling on coaching ads and investigating webinars on DSA.

When my DSA dream was dashed, I turned — as my tween would say — salty (which really means “bitter” in my generation).

Maybe there were just too many applicants, I thought. They overlooked him. If only they'd met him. An interview would have given them a better sense of who he is.

Then, it was on to…

It’s. Their. Loss.

Well, at that moment, I was the sore loser.

My son was just fine with this outcome.

+++

As my disappointment wore off over time, I wondered what had gotten into me. When did DSA become my competition? I was so focused on building a resume chock-full of accolades, getting shortlisted, and winning a place.

But that’s not what DSA is about. It's about matching children with schools where they can continue developing something they genuinely enjoy and have an interest in. Different schools are looking for different strengths and potential. Not being shortlisted doesn't mean a child isn't "good enough". Sometimes, it simply means he's not the right fit.

+++

 I realised I'd spent months preparing him for something he'd not really wanted.

He obliged because “mummy always knows best”.

Somewhere between encouraging him to try and wanting him to succeed, I had taken over as the ‘main character’ and relegated him to the sidelines.

In retrospect, I suppose that's why schools encourage parents to think carefully about whether DSA is the right fit in the first place. Not "Can my child get in?" but "Does my child want this?" One is about getting a place. The other is about finding a place where a child can flourish and grow.

I still view DSA as a gateway for children who have a genuine interest and the potential to excel in a certain area. If my kid decides of his own accord to go for it after secondary school, I’ll support him. But this time, I'll stay in my lane.

For now, we’ll focus on the next step: choosing schools after PSLE.

The other day, he looked up from his group chat and announced, unprompted, “Mummy, I think I know which school I want to go to."

He'd done his own research. Found his own reasons.

“Do you want to know?” he asked.

I closed all my DSA browser tabs and said, "Tell me everything."