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Cinderella of the Malaysian education system — Vasanthi Ramachandran

DECEMBER 20 — For the past month, social media has been intermittently abuzz with news of young Malaysians who returned home with more than 80 medals from the World Robot Games (WRG) 2025 in Taiwan. Of these, 24 were children from Tamil schools.

They competed against students from some of Asia’s most technologically advanced nations. By any global standard, this was excellence.

Held from November 25 to December 1, the competition drew more than 1,000 participants from 10 countries, including Japan and South Korea. WRG is not a minor contest; it is one of the region’s most influential educational robotics platforms, testing programming, robotics engineering, problem-solving, and innovation skills among young minds from across the globe.

One participant shared, “Standing on the world stage felt like a dream, but winning for Malaysia felt even better.” This sentiment reflected the unanimous patriotic pride of the 24 students after the finals. As proud Malaysians, they returned home excited and hopeful that their achievement would be recognised.

Sadly, there was no response. Just silence.

There was no official congratulatory message from the Ministry of Education, nor any acknowledgement from state education departments.

These aspiring robotic scientists had outperformed schools with far greater resources, funding, and institutional backing. They earned global recognition through sheer determination and skill, supported largely by their schools and communities.

Guided by Syscore Academy, a Malaysian-based ICT and robotics education provider, the students spent months preparing — learning discipline, teamwork, and advanced technical skills. Yet they received no grants for training, airfare, or accommodation.

“There was no government funding. Parents paid out of their own pockets,” said Dass of Syscore Academy.

For 13-year-old Sachein Kalitazan, who won six medals, the victory marked an eight-year journey of building, coding, and debugging robots — a passion that began when he was just five years old.

Saatish Kumaran, a sumo robot champion who won four medals, said, “The WRG was an event I had looked forward to all my life. Winning multiple medals was a surprise and the ultimate reward for me, my family, and the team.”

These children are not anomalies. There are thousands of unnoticed students who need only a spotlight, encouragement, and proper funding to continue excelling.

For decades, a persistent and systemic injustice has existed in Malaysia’s education system, and it wears the uniform of a Tamil schoolchild. It is not loud, not violent, and rarely headline-grabbing — but it will one day prove costly to the nation.

Tamil education is ritualistically invoked during election seasons, often followed by weak policy commitments. — Picture by Farhan Najib

Tamil schools are often framed as a “community issue” when, in truth, they are a national responsibility. Established as early as the 18th century and expanded during the colonial era to educate plantation workers’ children, Tamil schools were never intended to be temporary institutions. Yet they continue to be treated as peripheral — tolerated, minimally maintained, and rarely empowered.

The neglect begins with geography. Many Tamil schools remain in estates and small townships, even as Indian families have steadily migrated to urban centres in search of better livelihoods. There has been no serious, coordinated effort by successive governments to relocate schools, acquire urban land, or integrate Tamil education into national planning.

Tan Sri Dr T. Marimuthu stood for decades as a fearless champion of Tamil education. In 1987, after meticulous research and tireless advocacy, he exposed the deep structural neglect these schools endured, describing them as the “Cinderella of the Malaysian education system.” The label remains painfully relevant.

Tamil education is ritualistically invoked during election seasons, often followed by weak policy commitments. Issues such as land ownership, crumbling infrastructure, teacher shortages, and access to modern facilities — including science and robotics labs — are addressed in fragments, if at all.

In an era when Malaysia speaks endlessly about artificial intelligence, innovation, and future-ready talent, ignoring high-performing, multilingual students from Tamil schools is not merely unjust — it is irrational. The success of these students at the World Robot Games is tangible proof that high-impact STEM talent already exists within our national education system.

At the very least, international STEM achievements by vernacular school students should trigger formal recognition, sustained funding, and inclusion in national talent pipelines.

With timely institutional support, these students can be positioned as ambassadors of Malaysia’s technological ambition, strengthening future capabilities in robotics, automation, and artificial intelligence.

Schoolchildren who triumph in regional and global competitions deserve celebration. When a nation fails to acknowledge such achievement, it does not merely ignore children — it forfeits future innovators.

Malaysia’s education system failed to notice its own Tamil schoolchildren as they took the global robotics stage in Taiwan. That silence speaks volumes about who we celebrate, who we overlook, and what we risk losing as a nation.

* This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.

 

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