Unity is not sewn into fabric

AT the beginning of a new school year, many parents find their minds are already on practicalities, not pedagogy.

The familiar scramble can be stressful: textbooks, school bags, shoes, uniforms.

That is why any policy touching on school uniforms, no matter how well is the intention, can be horrifying just with the thoughts of it.

To parents, school uniform is a budget wrapped with inevitable anxieties.

Can my children fit into last year’s uniforms? Are they fading in colours that they may not look decent on the old uniforms?

So it is not surprising that when the Education Ministry proposed plans to standardise school uniform colours nationwide in the name of promoting unity and easing financial burden, it generated chuckles and eye-rolls in living rooms and across the kitchen tables.

No doubt about it that is a noble aim. Who dares to underestimate it?

But how much unity can a standard palette really sew into the national fabric?

I do not have any school-going children, so my own bias might lie in part in that old school-girl nostalgia.

During my secondary school years, in memory at least like half a century ago, we wore strict black-and-white – crisp white shirts, and black skirts.

My favourite has always been black-and-white. I have to credit those uniforms for my special liking – so much so that when our pictures went from black-and-white print to colours, a friend jokingly said that I should follow suit to enter the coloured world.

That remark stuck with me, half-teasing, half-existential. Because life and education is rarely that simple.

Of course, the uniform debate is about more than nostalgia.

The ministry argues that too many colours might emphasise differences and competition, rather than unity.

And that families with children transferring between schools face extra expenses buying multiple sets with different hues and logos.

But if unity is sewn into the thread count, why stop at colour?

Over coffee, my group of friends said why not standardise shoes, school-bags, hairstyles, and even lunch boxes?

At what point does uniformity begin to feel more like conformity than cohesion, one jumped and asked.

Let’s face the reality, in the real classrooms of Sarawak and Sabah, especially in the rural schools, teachers and officials are facing issues that are a whole lot less decorative, and a lot more urgent.

As Sarawak’s Deputy Minister of Education, Innovation and Talent Development Datuk Dr Annuar Rapaee has put it: “Let’s be real – these are the issues we should be talking about.”

He was referring to the lack of proper science laboratories in some schools, the shortage of Mathematics and Science teachers, particularly in the rural schools, and under-resourced programs that dampen students’ interest in Science-Technology-Engineering-Mathematics (STEM) before they even begin.

What a blunt dose of grounding!

While policymakers ponder shades and palettes, some schools still lack basic labs where students can see science come alive.

Maths and Science may get too little class time; teachers struggle with dual-language programmes; and hard-to-fill positions in the rural areas mean young minds might never get the stimulation that they deserve in critical subjects.

These are foundational educational problems that determine whether a child in a longhouse or ‘kampung’ (village) school discovers a passion for engineering, chemistry or coding.

If Dr Annuar is right – and it’s hard to argue with what local educators are seeing – then yes, uniform colour should be way down the list of priorities.

That said, I do enjoy a little Malaysian humour around these things.

Inevitably, whenever a policy involving millions of children and millions of ringgit is mentioned, someone will ask – with a grin and a wink – who gets the contract?

Not because we are cynical, but because Malaysian parents have learned to be practically curious.

If something suddenly needs to be sewn, printed and distributed nationwide, transparency isn’t just nice – it’s essential.

To be fair, the ministry intends to implement changes gradually, starting with Year 1 and Form 1 students, with input from schools and parent-teacher associations.

That’s a welcome approach – as long as it remains consultative rather than perfunctory.

And yes, parental financial constraints should be acknowledged, but they also deserve real relief, not just re-shuffled expenses under a new colour code.

Colour matters to designers, to branding, and sometimes, to school identity.

But unity is lived, not worn.

It grows from shared experiences, from equitable access to quality teaching and facilities, and from classrooms where every child feels valued regardless of which side of the Rajang or Kinabatangan they come from.

If we truly want children who are united, confident and inspired, let’s focus on giving them good teachers, functioning labs, full classroom hours for Science and Maths, and equitable opportunities across the urban and rural schools alike.

Everything else – including whether uniforms are black-and-white or a standard shade of blue – should take a back seat to the substance that actually shapes a child’s future.

Colours may change with policy.

Curiosity, competence, equality and confidence which are the heart of education that cannot be standardised in a colour chart.

And yet, knowing Malaysians, someone will still ask – who gets the contract?

Just the right blend of humour and healthy scepticism to keep any policy grounded, and any parent awake at the sewing machine of life.