Six is the new seven

WHEN the 2026-2035 Education Plan was launched by Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim, one announcement immediately set parents talking: from 2027, six-year-olds could enter Primary 1 if parents believed they were ready.

Then came the afterthought, or perhaps the fine print.

A day later, Education Minister Fadhlina Sidek urged parents to ‘keep calm’.

Entry at six, she clarified, would be optional, not automatic.

Only children who were truly ready, and had passed a diagnostic assessment, including psycho-emotional evaluation, would be selected.

Aha! Very reassuring words. Necessary, even.

But reassurance does not erase questions.

In fact, it multiplies them.

Today, I’d like to act as an ‘inquisitive six-year-old’, asking the many questions we have on our minds, and I would welcome answers from any parents and teachers – or even the Education Minister!

If entry is optional, but parents ‘cannot make the decision freely’, where does parental judgment end and bureaucratic judgment begin?

Who ultimately decides that a child is ‘truly ready’: the parent, the teacher, or the test?

And what exactly does a psycho-emotional assessment for a six-year-old look like?

Is it culturally sensitive? Is it standardised across urban and rural schools?

Will it account for children who are quiet rather than outspoken, cautious rather than confident, or slower to warm up but strong once settled?

Will a child who freezes in an unfamiliar testing environment be labelled ‘not ready’, when what they really need is time?

If diagnostic tests are used to determine numbers, and numbers are used to plan infrastructure, are we planning for children – or planning around data?

The ministry says it will identify schools with sufficient classrooms, and build new ones quickly using Industrialised Building Systems (IBS) if needed.

That sounds efficient.

But classrooms are not just physical spaces. Who will be in them?

Teachers, we are told, will be allocated and trained to handle six-year-olds.

How many? With what training? And how quickly?

Will rural schools receive the same level of preparation as urban ones; or will readiness once again be unevenly distributed?

And then there is Kindergarten 2 (K2).

With six-year-olds now potentially filtered into Primary 1 through assessments, what becomes of K2?

Will it quietly lose status?

Will parents feel compelled to push their children forward to avoid the stigma of being ‘held back’, even when another year of gentle preparation would benefit the child?

In parts of rural Sarawak and Sabah, K2 is not childcare or playtime.

It is often where children first learn classroom routines, encounter Bahasa Malaysia or English formally, and build confidence before travelling longer distances to primary school.

If K2 is weakened or emptied, are we removing a crucial bridge – especially for children who have already begun the race several steps behind?

And what of K1 and Pre-K? Will they be left unchanged, or moved forward to accommodate for the new age?

The minister urges parents not to panic.

But panic is rarely caused by options alone. It is caused by uncertainty.

Parents will ask: “If my child fails the assessment at six, what message does that send to me, and to the child?

“Will we both feel like failures even before their academic life formally starts?

“If my child passes, but is emotionally younger than their classmates, will they be able to adapt and make friends?

“If diagnostic tests vary by school, is readiness being measured consistently – or conveniently?”

We are told this is reform, and perhaps it is.

But reform that touches childhood must be slower, clearer, and more carefully explained than reform that touches systems.

Policies are designed to be rolled out; children are not.

So as assessments are designed, classrooms built, and teachers reassigned, the policymakers might pause to ask one final question: not whether six-year-olds can enter Primary 1, but whether the system is truly ready to receive them.

The plan is announced. The clarification follows. The questions remain.

And perhaps that is where real reform should begin – not with calming words, but with careful answers.