To better assist you with your research on Singapore's bilingual policy:

Another challenge is the pressure to maintain proficiency in both languages. With the demands of work and daily life, it's easy to let one language slip, but I know that I need to continually practice and improve my skills.

I remember a job interview where the manager asked, in Mandarin, “Can you handle our Taiwanese clients?” I said yes. But during the role-play, I stumbled. The technical terms evaded me. My grammar became Singlish-Mandarin mash. I got the job—but the look of slight disappointment haunted me.

Thus, every child entering the education system was told: You must master English (first language) and your Mother Tongue (second language). For a select few, this is natural. For the vast majority, this becomes .

“Read,” she would say, pointing at the textbook. “妈 (mā).”

Worse are the family gatherings. My grandmother, now in her 80s, speaks only Hokkien and simple Mandarin. I speak English and fractured Mandarin. When she tells stories of her childhood in Malacca, I catch every third word. I nod and smile, but I am a ghost at the table. The language that should connect me to my heritage has become a wall.