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01/03/2026

THE CRUEL ARITHMETIC OF SERVICE

A Satirical Lament in the Key of Bureaucratic Absurdity

I coached the world's best minds to Science Olympiad gold,
My research graced the journals, brave and bold,
I taught the nations, demonstrated far and wide,
But one IPCRF sub-score? Oh, step aside.

Twenty years in private, pouring out my soul,
Then fifteen more in public, chasing down the goal,
A Master's degree earned through blood and sweat and tears,
But one manipulated box... erased thirty-five years.

"Your overall rating? Outstanding — what a gem!"
"But that one NCOI? We'll have to lower them."
Not because I failed, not because I slacked —
But the boss's ego needed to be intact.

"You see," they whispered with a knowing smile,
"Your score is far too high — that's not our style.
The BOSS must always stand above,
So kindly shrink your excellence, with love."

And so I took my pen with trembling hand,
And slashed the score they said I couldn't stand,
Not for poor performance, not for any sin —
But because I dared to be too good within.

Three consecutive years of champions, you say?
International Science Olympiad? Put that away.
Hong Kong called — my students answered, shining bright,
Gold, Silver, Bronze, and Merit — what a glorious sight!

Four colors of achievement, draped around their necks,
But the system said: "Those medals? What's the catch?"
The rubric doesn't care for podiums or crowns —
Did you keep your score below your boss's? Now sit down.

From Hong Kong's halls of glory, banners raised up high,
My champions brought home medals touching the sky,
Not once, not twice — consecutive years of fame,
But one artificially lowered NCOI killed my claim.

A Master's Degree? Lovely. File it there.
International Demo Teaching? We don't care.
Research published globally? How quaint, how nice.
Outscoring your superior? Oh — you'll pay that price.

The irony cuts deep, it cuts so clean:
Outstanding — three straight years — and still unseen.
Not disqualified for failure, not for lack of skill,
But disqualified for following orders — what a bitter pill.

So the system said: "Deduct! The boss must shine!"
I followed the instruction — crossed that line,
And then the very same system turned and said:
"That low NCOI score? Promotion — dead."

Oh, what a masterpiece of cruel design —
Punished for the very rule they said was mine,
Told to lower scores, then judged for scoring low —
A trap disguised as policy. Bravo. Bravo.

Oh, Department of Education, hear this cry:
You built a system where the honest die,
Where excellence is capped to guard an ego's throne,
And teachers eat the consequences — alone.

So here I stand — coach, scholar, published, tried,
Hong Kong gold around my students' necks with pride,
Science Olympiad trophies lining up the hall,
Yet one instructed deduction made me fall.

The system built a ladder, tall and straight,
Then told me: "Don't climb higher than your fate."
I obeyed. I followed. I played by every rule.
And for that obedience — I remain a fool.

The moral of this story, sharp and true:

Excellence is fine — just not more than your boss's view.
You can conquer Hong Kong, publish, teach, and soar —
But dare to follow orders?

The door is closed. Promotion nevermore.

Dedicated to every brilliant teacher punished twice — first for being outstanding, then for being told to hide it. And to every gold medal the system pretended not to see.