Malaysian parents juggle homework, WhatsApp chaos and pressure, learning patience and love along the way.
EVERY night across Malaysia, thousands of parents sit at kitchen tables, hunched over open workbooks, pencils in hand, muttering, “What on earth is this question asking?”
We thought we had left school behind but it turns out, we have just enrolled again – this time under our children’s names.
My son is in Primary Four, and like most parents I know, I’ve become a part-time student all over again.
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We are solving maths problems that look suspiciously like riddles, Googling grammar rules we once ignored and trying to remember if predicates were ever part of our syllabus.
The irony? Our kids seem unbothered. They are humming, doodling and casually asking, “Can you just tell me the answer, Ma?”
Homework hustle
Homework today is a team sport. There are colour-coded folders, QR codes and Google Classrooms that make you feel like you are managing a small corporation.
And then there is the parents’ WhatsApp group – the true source of salvation and stress.
By 8.15pm, the messages start flooding in: “Parents, teacher says must complete Exercise 4 billion tonight ah”, “Where to find this worksheet?
My son lost it again”, “Can someone share the picture on page 27?” By 8.30pm, someone uploads a photo of a perfectly done page.
Within minutes, other parents start whispering to themselves, “Eh, ours looks very messy compared to that one…”
We laugh about it but the truth is no one wants their kid to be the one who forgot.
Somewhere between laughter and panic, we all start double-checking pencil cases, erasers and moral values.
Age of hovering
Our generation of parents is unique; we hover over homework, test marks, even over school uniform buttons.
We micromanage everything, not because we don’t trust our kids, but because we don’t trust ourselves to let go.
Most of us were raised by parents who didn’t even know what homework we had. They just told us to finish it before watching Power Rangers.
But now? We know every page, every deadline and every class quiz. We call it “being involved”. Sometimes, it is really just being anxious.
We are afraid that they will fall behind in a world where everyone else’s child seems to be two steps ahead – playing piano, learning coding, speaking Mandarin, joining robotics clubs.
Even art competitions feel like Olympic qualifiers now. And there is always that one parent who swears, “He did it all by himself.”
Sure, aunty. Sure.
WhatsApp university
The parents’ WhatsApp group deserves its own study in sociology.
One message, “Teacher says wear batik tomorrow!”, can unleash chaos across the class.
Suddenly, half the kids show up in batik, the other half in PE attire and by recess, the teacher clarifies: “Only prefects wear batik.”
Too late. The group chat is already flooded with photos and mild regret.
Still, we stay in those groups because they are also our lifeline, the only thing standing between us and forgotten art materials or “bring one egg tomorrow” notices that appear out of nowhere.
The chat keeps us sane, even if it’s also the reason we lose our sanity.
The great Malaysian pressure
Somewhere along the way, parenting became performance art.
We want our kids to shine, not just in studies, but in everything. They must be confident, creative, articulate and resilient.
Bonus points if they can do all that while eating vegetables and finishing homework on time.
We say we don’t compare but, come on, we all do. One child wins a gold medal and suddenly, we are googling “best enrichment classes near me”.
It is not just ambition; it is fear. Fear of being left behind in a system that keeps raising the bar.
All about love
Sometimes, after another long evening of worksheets, we catch ourselves thinking – maybe we are the ones being graded.
We sigh, erase, rewrite and pretend to stay calm but deep down, we all know this isn’t just about academics; it’s about love.
It’s about wanting the best, even when we are exhausted.
We complain, we joke and we send memes in the chat but we also care deeply. And every so often, there is a moment that makes it all worth it.
Like when your child writes an essay that is wildly off-topic but full of imagination, and you think, “Maybe he’s learning something more important than marks”.
Real lesson
Maybe homework isn’t the lesson – we are.
We are learning patience, restraint and when to close the red pen. We are learning to sit beside our kids without taking over the page.
We are realising that it’s okay if the spelling list has mistakes or the drawing isn’t perfect.
Our kids will grow more from our calm than our corrections.
Because one day, they will step into a world without WhatsApp reminders or parents proofreading their work, and hopefully, they will have the confidence to figure it out on their own.
So yes, we’ll still peek into their bags at night (just in case) but maybe we can also laugh, breathe and let them own their messy handwriting and crooked charts.
Because we are all learning together – parents and kids – one worksheet, one sigh and one WhatsApp message at a time.
After all, school never really ends for any of us.
Hashini Kavishtri Kannan is the assistant news editor at theSun.
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