《没有真理，只有视角》

Reviewer: Neo Hai Bin | 梁海彬
Performance: 12 March 2017

五名性格迥异的老师们，对教育的不同理念和态度，让他们无可避免地在价值观上产生冲突。我们看到“老师”这个标签后面有血有肉的人性。他们不是完人，他们有其性格上的弱点和缺陷，于是他们也有视角上的盲点：对一些老师而言，坏学生永远没有救赎的可能性；另一位老师觉得自己只负责教书——“我的教师合约上没有注明我应该成为学生的榜样”。通过他们的观点，我们也开始更了解“老师”这一职衔背后的复杂性。

“教师是灵魂的工程师”—— 然而我们一开始就看到剧中的Mr Lee对教书丝毫没有热忱，到了下半场他竟然开始怀疑自己其实并没有教书的能力。他的觉悟本应是角色发展的转捩点，然而他忽然获知教育部竟颁发给他“杰出教师奖”—— 教育部肯定了他“会教”，尽管其他教师都对他说：“不，你不会。”为什么学生眼中的Mr Lee，和教育部眼中的Mr Lee，竟然那么不同？当我们选择某个视角来关注，是否也就必然产生盲点？

而在剧中真正关心在乎学生的Mrs Phua，对O水准不及格的学生Jali给予鼓励，并告诉Jali他“一定能够找到他的价值”。十几年后，Jali回校找她，对她述说自己这些年来的际遇：他重考O水准不及格，他做了很多份工作，在社会定义下，他并没有成功，他对Mrs Phua说：“你错了”。Mrs Phua从Jali的视角看到了自己信念中的盲点…… 她的世界观被挑战，没有了绝对的“真理”总会让人措手不及，师生握手告别的那一刻，有深深的无奈。

而舞台中央的白色旋转台阶也是舞台设计师的巧思：旋转台一转，空间／场景也就随之转变，我们仿佛看见一块钻石的不同面，每一次旋转，我们就更了解剧中人物的遭遇、内心世界。该剧的可贵之处，在于它让我们以不同的视角去审视“老师”、“教育”、“体制”、“学生”、“家庭教育”…… 等，揭露了新加坡教育体制的多面性，而这些不同的视角构成了整个教育体制的全面性。背后要如何被看到？导演帮我们把舞台的背后旋转到我们面前。现实生活中，我们应该怎么提醒自己，不要忘记去看看“背后”？

当我们能够拥有越多的视角，我们才能够从更多的角度去切入思考。也许到最后，我们依然没有办法找到“真理”，但我们能够确定自己不会成为摸象的瞎子们。

2017年的“Those Who Can’t, Teach”演员们以绝佳默契和演技撑起了整部戏，让观众的情绪随着剧情跌宕起伏。我看的那一场，有很多的学生观众，都很用心地看戏。我想这部戏能够历久弥新，成为经典，是因为它对人性的多重性、多元性、流动性和不确定性，提供了最直接的观察。

“Those Who Can’t, Teach”

Reviewer: Jocelyn Chng
Performance: 9 March 2017

In a nursing home, a retired teacher sits alone in a wheelchair, slightly forgetful, as a distant memory of students celebrating prom night plays over in her head. So goes the final scene of Those Who Can’t, Teach; the audience is left with this haunting image that lingers beyond the final blackout.

Written by Haresh Sharma and first produced by The Necessary Stage in 1990, this play has since become a classic in the Necessary Stage canon. With the Ministry of Education’s persistent recruitment campaigns over the years, and more recent media spotlights on teachers leaving the service, the play remains as relevant, if not even more so, than when it was written 27 years ago.

Apart from a few updates to reflect current technology such as Whatsapp, the play is staged with close adherence to the original text. The subjects of teaching, and the complex bittersweet relationships between teachers and their students, are inherently enduring.

Mrs Phua, the central character, is a burdened, self-sacrificing secondary school teacher who “spends more time with other people’s children” than her own. I appreciate that she is not written as a perfect martyr, though. She has her flaws, such as being so fervent about the students’ academic work that she beats down the efforts of Sabtu, the school canteen vendor, to equip less academically-inclined students with other skills through his enterprising “mentorship programme”.

A few parts of the narrative do require a stretch of the imagination, such as Jali’s sudden visit to Mrs Phua many years after graduating, and the complicated subplot surrounding another teacher, Miss Hana.

The experienced cast delivers the performance quite impeccably, except perhaps the one part that requires non-Hokkien speakers to deliver lines in Hokkien, which is too jarring and disrupts my suspension of disbelief. Nevertheless, the underlying powerful message of the play and strong performance leaves little that can be faulted.

Judging from the many students in the audience, and their rapt attention and laughter throughout the performance (even though it is the relationship issues and the few instances of strong language that draw the loudest responses), this play has the potential to help nurture a future theatregoing audience that is not only larger but hopefully also more thoughtful.