IF teenagers acted in class in the same way that they see their elders in televised Legislative Council debates or during TV talk-shows, they would soon find themselves in a lot of trouble with their teachers. But they are only imitating the behaviour of people who are supposed to be responsible adults. Teenagers have since early childhood been trained to subdue their feelings and be modest in their use of language. If democracy means freedom of expression, then schools are the last place in which most of our 456,000 secondary school students can exercise this right. Schools seldom establish a student forum or set up class unions. Even when such things are in place, they are rarely an arena for critical discourse. If democracy is to mean freedom of choice, it is missing in Hong Kong's secondary schools. The curriculum has been neatly compartmentalised at Secondary Four, when students have to choose between arts and science or in some cases, commercial subjects. This means science students are normally not allowed to study history or economics which are in the arts group, even if they may have an aptitude for the subject. Once students choose a particular path the formal education system rarely lets them change course to explore other avenues. Schools offer no freedom of religion. Students of most religious schools, be they Catholic, Protestant or Buddhist, are to observe the related rituals. One has to mix with the crowd and not be too noticeable. Most Secondary Six and Seven students have to follow a ''floating-class'' system under which they move from one room to another dragging their heavy books with them. There are simply more classes than rooms. There are good reasons not to allow choices and freedom: the shortage of resources in space and staffing is genuine; the curriculum has always been examination-oriented; tertiary places although expanded are still competitive. The list could go on forever. The Hong Kong education system, through its various policies, has successfully made students accept these conditions. Allocation of school places is sometimes made according to factors outside students' control. An applicant who does not have a brother or sister studying in the primary school to which he or she is applying will have a smaller chance of securing a place than others who have such family ties. So at the same time as teachers are explaining how various nations have fought to uphold freedom of expression and religion, students can only look on in silence as none has had the chance to experience these things first-hand. We, therefore, should not laugh when our young people show that they are ignorant of what is happening around them, when they don't know the names of our policy secretaries, when they know barely anything about the Basic Law. One recent survey conducted by the Shamshuipo Civic Education Committee shows that out of 10 multiple-choice questions designed to test the extent of basic knowledge of this crucial document, close to 10 per cent of 3,000 Secondary Three to Secondary Seven respondents could not answer one question correctly. These are the reasons why some are against the lowering of the voting age from 21 to 18. Deep down they know the education system has not prepared or nurtured our young people to deal with political issues. All the more reason, then, that 18-year-olds should be given the right to vote. The longer they are sheltered or restrained, the further away they are from political maturity. Besides, what good does a delay of three more years do to guarantee greater readiness? Why are we so sure that the average 21-year-old is much more capable of making a wise political decision? If intelligence is the criterion, should we not subject all voters to an intelligence test before they cast their vote? If democracy means freedom of expression, then schools are the last place in which students can exercise this right
