
Is TikTok a disruption or marks a new era of learning?
WHAT if the future of our education is no longer confined within classroom walls but embedded in the seamless scroll of a mobile screen? Once perceived merely as a platform for dance routines and viral entertainment, TikTok has evolved into an emergent space for digital learning.
With billions of views under educational hashtags and creators simplifying complex subjects into concise, one-minute content, the platform is redefining how knowledge is delivered and consumed in real time.
In both Malaysia and globally, students are increasingly relying on TikTok for swift, accessible explanations of academic topics ranging from essay structures and grammatical accuracy to historical timelines and science revision.
These short-form videos, often produced by educators, peers, or academic enthusiasts, transform dense curriculum material into easily digestible and visually engaging content. In doing so, TikTok meets learners within the digital environments they most frequently occupy.
For traditional educators and institutions, this shift presents a paradox. While there are valid concerns regarding reduced attention spans, the oversimplification of complex material, and the potential spread of misinformation, the deeper issue may lie not in the platform itself but in the rigidity of existing educational systems.
TikTok, rather than threatening education, may be highlighting the urgent need for pedagogical innovation and adaptation.
As classrooms continue to navigate the post-pandemic landscape, TikTok is emerging as a powerful tool to re-engage students.
After years of remote learning and digital burnout, many students now expect education to be interactive, fast-paced, and visually engaging. Traditional teaching methods often struggle to meet these expectations.
TikTok, with its short-form video style and algorithm-driven reach, delivers information in a way that feels intuitive to today's learners.
Through visuals, voiceovers, and direct communication, it presents lessons in formats that are easier to understand, more relatable, and ultimately more memorable.
In recent years, TikTok has become an increasingly vital academic resource for students preparing for the Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia (SPM) examination.
Faced with mounting pressure to perform well across a wide range of subjects, students are turning to the platform for concise, engaging content that breaks down complex topics in subjects such as English, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, and Mathematics.
These videos, often created by teachers, tutors, or even high-achieving peers, transform traditional syllabus content into visually dynamic lessons that are easier to absorb and revise on the go.
Instead of poring over lengthy textbooks, students can now access quick grammar tips, formula recaps, experiment walkthroughs, and past-year question analyses, all from their mobile devices.
In doing so, TikTok is reshaping the way exam preparation is approached, offering a more student-centered, accessible, and time-efficient model of learning that complements classroom instruction.
This paradigm shift raises an important question for educators: Should digital platforms like TikTok be resisted or embraced?
An increasing number of educators are exploring the latter. By creating educational TikTok content ranging from revision strategies and micro-lessons to motivational guidance, teachers are not replacing the classroom but extending its reach.
In recognising and responding to students' digital habits, these educators foster deeper engagement, relatability, and learner autonomy.
The structure and function of the traditional classroom are undeniably changing. Chalkboards are giving way to digital interfaces. Rigid syllabi are being complemented, and sometimes challenged, by on-demand, learner-driven content.
If the ultimate objective of education is to equip, inspire, and empower young minds for an evolving global landscape, then pedagogical approaches must evolve accordingly.
Despite its limitations, TikTok offers a unique pedagogical language. It is concise, interactive, peer-centered, and visually stimulating.
While it may never substitute formal education, it plays an increasingly significant role in shaping contemporary learning behaviors and expectations.
Therefore, when critics label TikTok as nothing more than an entertainment app, they overlook a quiet educational revolution already taking shape. Education is no longer confined to chalkboards, classrooms, or structured rows of desks.
Today, it lives in the fingertips of students who scroll not just for amusement, but for answers, for clarity, for knowledge that feels relevant and reachable.
In a world where information overload is real and attention is constantly pulled in every direction, TikTok has emerged as an unexpected but powerful learning companion.
It is not here to replace traditional education, but to enhance it, to fill its gaps, and to meet learners where they are. Lessons that once seemed intimidating are now made accessible. Concepts that once confused now click in under a minute.
Educational change does not always begin with formal policies or elite institutions. Sometimes, it begins with a teenager sharing a math trick from their bedroom.
Sometimes, it starts with a dedicated teacher reimagining their methods to connect with students on their screens. And often, it flourishes in the determination of students who keep learning despite limited resources, long commutes, or self-doubt.
This is what learning looks like today. It is personal, immediate, and deeply human. It is a video that makes sense of what a textbook could not. It is a comment section filled with shared struggles and support.
It is proof that learning does not need four walls to thrive. It lives in moments of connection, in sparks of clarity, in the quiet resilience of students who choose to grow in new ways. ‒ June 12, 2025
The author is the English Language Lecturer at the Centre for Foundation Studies in Science (PASUM), Universiti Malaya.
The views expressed are solely of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Focus Malaysia.

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Borneo Post
3 hours ago
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In our fathers' footsteps
The fathers in the Ong's family (clockwise, from top left): Ewe Hai, Tiang Swee, Kee Bian, and Kwan Hin. IN the olden days, the traditional Chinese families would always want their heirs, especially the sons, to follow in their footsteps in terms of making a livelihood for themselves. The Chinese saying, 'the prosperity of the population and son, the prosperity of the country', is contained in Chinese traditional culture. The more the population of future generations, especially the 'men', the more stable and prosperous the family foundation. This pretty much explains why Chinese men are compelled to produce as many sons as they can to ensure that there is not just one male in the chain of succession, but a few additional 'spares' just in case! In traditional Chinese religious practice, males are preferred because they have the ability to continue the family line. Further, women are not traditionally responsible for their parents when they marry, while men are expected to care for parents in their old age. In the Ong family of Kuching, in which I grew up, such traditions were strictly adhered to and right up to my father's generation, which was the fourth generation in Sarawak. The story of my great great-grandfather Ong Ewe Hai, who had landed in Kuching at age 16 in 1846 from Singapore, has been well told. His father, Ong Koon Tian, had passed away in Singapore when he was only seven; thus, leaving the family impoverished. Ewe Hai had landed in Kuching as a trader and not as a 'coolie' (labourer) as was usually the case with Chinese immigrants during that period. By 1872, through his own hard work, helpful connections and shrewd trading with the locals and his Singapore contacts, he had set up his own company. His success brought him to the attention of Rajah James Brooke, and he was made the Kapitan Cina (Chinese Chieftain) for Sarawak. Ewe Hai's son, Ong Tiang Swee, carried on in his father's footsteps and under the second Rajah, Charles Brooke, was also appointed to the same position. In addition, he and his son Ong Kwan Hin, were the first two Chinese to be appointed to the first Sarawak Council Negri (Legislative Assembly) in 1937. In 1882, Tiang Swee joined his father's company which in those days, were granted a licence for the opium, gambling and 'arak' (local liquor) import and distribution. They also exported sago and other commodities, and had owned a fleet of schooners. He was made chairman of the Sarawak Steamship Company in 1919, and helped form the Sarawak Turf Club. He was also chairman of the Hokkien Association and had been active in the propagation of education in both the Chinese and English medium. In February 1912, the Chinese Court was established to give the Chinese in Sarawak a more extended influence in the political affairs of the country. As such, it became the most influential body in the Chinese community. Tiang Swee was appointed President of the Court, which signified his supreme position in the Chinese hierarchy. When he stepped down in 1920, the Court was dissolved and its duties taken over by the civil courts, where he was an advisor. Tiang Swee was the first person in Sarawak to be honoured with the newly-created Order of the Star of Sarawak as a Companion of the Order, awarded to him on Sept 26, 1928. On Aug 16, 1947, he was made an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) presented by King George VI of England. I was only seven months old when my great-grandfather Tiang Swee died, on Oct 19, 1950. He was succeeded by seven sons and three daughters. His second son, Kwan Hin, was my grandfather. As the eldest had died at a very young age, my grandfather had become the patriarch of our fast-growing family at the midpoint of the 20th century. Upon graduation, Kwan Hin had joined his father's bank the Sarawak Chinese Banking Corporation, and also took the post of cashier. It was the first Chinese bank in Sarawak. In 1947, the Colonial Government appointed him as one of the Kapitan Cina representing the Hokkien community, succeeding his father Tiang Swee. Kwan Hin's strong interest in animal husbandry had led him to establish a dairy and poultry farm. The successful venture resulted in his being made a Fellow of the Poultry Association of Great Britain. He also established a business enterprise named Hiap Soon Hin at the Main Bazaar, the earliest and oldest agent for AIA Insurance, until he gave it up in the 1970s. None of his children were interested in carrying on with it. During those early post-World War II years, Kwan Hin became a leading member of many organisations. Together with other prominent business figures, he founded Kuching's United Merchant Association and served as its chairman for many years. He was also a chairman of the supervisory board of Sarawak's Chamber of Commerce until he retired from his posts in this and many other organisations in 1960. One of the positions he stepped down from then was as chairman of the Kuching Hokkien Association, a role which he had served from 1948 to 1958. He was also on the board of many charitable organisations such as the Sarawak Hun Nam Siang Tng and appointed custodian of the Muara Tebas Buddhist Temple. My grandfather passed away in 1982, at the age of 86. He left behind 10 children – seven sons and three daughters, 57 grandchildren and many dozens of great grandchildren up to four generations. My father, Ong Kee Bian, was the sixth son of Kwan Hin, born in 1926 to a family of nine other boys and four girls. Like his forefathers he received his education at St Thomas' School, the oldest established Anglican Mission School – it celebrates its 177th anniversary this year. He started his working life at the Department of Agriculture where he was attached to a newly-formed division called Inland Fisheries in the mid-1950s. During his time there, he was responsible for the opening up of a great number of fish-ponds in the rural areas; thus, assisting farmers who needed a cash crop to supplement their other more labour intensive, but lengthier, period to harvest crops like pepper, rubber and fruits. His research efforts and travels overseas to gather new and modern methods of fish culture and other innovative ideas had led him to Taiwan in the 1970s to 'discover' the 'pink tilapia', which has, since the 1990s, been one of the biggest success stories in the annals of Sarawak fisheries. I recall that although innately it was a tasty morsel, the original darker skin 'tilapia' fish, which was the main crop of our inland fishponds, had turned off local consumers, and the fish, although plentiful and easy to rear, was not an acceptable dinner table offering – even at casual home meals. Most local housewives would buy it to feed their pet cats. In the late 1960s, Taiwanese aqua-culturists had crossbred a female mutant reddish-orange Mozambique tilapia (an albino) with a normal male Nile tilapia. This had resulted in what we know today as the Taiwanese Pink Tilapia. The coloration of the skin had made a world of difference. My father had strongly promoted the culture of this species throughout Sarawak – he was the first to import them from Taiwan, but the initial reception was cool and acceptance came very slowly. It was towards the end of the 1990s that some innovative restaurateurs thought up the bright idea to promote the fish as a 'Good Fortune Fish' ('Fu Kui Hu' in Hokkien) due to its colour; and started charging 'high end' restaurant prices for it. The idea took off! Demand had slowly, but surely, increased. Today, it's the obligatory fish dish. Today, we are producing these fishes by the millions and exporting them to places like Singapore in container lots. My father had lived to see the day. Personally as for me, I still prefer the real deal, with its darker skin and all – even the flesh is tastier; don't much care about the colour! My father's lifelong career was dedicated to the Sarawak civil service and he was awarded an 'Ahli Bintang Sarawak' (ABS) medal for it, earlier on in his career. He had no political ambitions, although had stood with his elder brothers Kee Hui and Kee Chuan, Henry during their successful political careers. Of his other brothers, four others were also in the civil service – Kee Chong, Kee Huat, Kee Pheng and Jimmy, Kee Chiang. Kee Chin was a farmer, and the two remaining brothers had died young. I believe my father's calling came late in life, after he had retired from his work in the Fisheries Department, he was converted to become a 'born-again' Christian and from around the age of 56 till he passed away at 96, he spent the last four decades of his life as a 'fisher of men' (Matthew 4:19 Holy Bible). One of my favourite memories of a passing comment from a relative, who was still a Buddhist when he had seen my father approaching from some distance, was when he burst out: 'Oh no, your dad's coming this way, I have to listen to his 'Good News' again!' During his lifetime, my father had spoken to many, converted quite a few, and I know that he would be happy that I wrote this about him. Thank you, Dad – yes, you had converted me too! Praise be to God! I would like to wish all fathers, wherever you may be, whoever you may be – from the newest to the oldest – a blessed and happy Father's Day tomorrow. * The opinions expressed in this article are the columnist's own and do not reflect the view of the newspaper.

Barnama
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Focus Malaysia
a day ago
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Is TikTok a disruption or marks a new era of learning?
WHAT if the future of our education is no longer confined within classroom walls but embedded in the seamless scroll of a mobile screen? Once perceived merely as a platform for dance routines and viral entertainment, TikTok has evolved into an emergent space for digital learning. With billions of views under educational hashtags and creators simplifying complex subjects into concise, one-minute content, the platform is redefining how knowledge is delivered and consumed in real time. In both Malaysia and globally, students are increasingly relying on TikTok for swift, accessible explanations of academic topics ranging from essay structures and grammatical accuracy to historical timelines and science revision. These short-form videos, often produced by educators, peers, or academic enthusiasts, transform dense curriculum material into easily digestible and visually engaging content. In doing so, TikTok meets learners within the digital environments they most frequently occupy. For traditional educators and institutions, this shift presents a paradox. While there are valid concerns regarding reduced attention spans, the oversimplification of complex material, and the potential spread of misinformation, the deeper issue may lie not in the platform itself but in the rigidity of existing educational systems. TikTok, rather than threatening education, may be highlighting the urgent need for pedagogical innovation and adaptation. As classrooms continue to navigate the post-pandemic landscape, TikTok is emerging as a powerful tool to re-engage students. After years of remote learning and digital burnout, many students now expect education to be interactive, fast-paced, and visually engaging. Traditional teaching methods often struggle to meet these expectations. TikTok, with its short-form video style and algorithm-driven reach, delivers information in a way that feels intuitive to today's learners. Through visuals, voiceovers, and direct communication, it presents lessons in formats that are easier to understand, more relatable, and ultimately more memorable. In recent years, TikTok has become an increasingly vital academic resource for students preparing for the Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia (SPM) examination. Faced with mounting pressure to perform well across a wide range of subjects, students are turning to the platform for concise, engaging content that breaks down complex topics in subjects such as English, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, and Mathematics. These videos, often created by teachers, tutors, or even high-achieving peers, transform traditional syllabus content into visually dynamic lessons that are easier to absorb and revise on the go. Instead of poring over lengthy textbooks, students can now access quick grammar tips, formula recaps, experiment walkthroughs, and past-year question analyses, all from their mobile devices. In doing so, TikTok is reshaping the way exam preparation is approached, offering a more student-centered, accessible, and time-efficient model of learning that complements classroom instruction. This paradigm shift raises an important question for educators: Should digital platforms like TikTok be resisted or embraced? An increasing number of educators are exploring the latter. By creating educational TikTok content ranging from revision strategies and micro-lessons to motivational guidance, teachers are not replacing the classroom but extending its reach. In recognising and responding to students' digital habits, these educators foster deeper engagement, relatability, and learner autonomy. The structure and function of the traditional classroom are undeniably changing. Chalkboards are giving way to digital interfaces. Rigid syllabi are being complemented, and sometimes challenged, by on-demand, learner-driven content. If the ultimate objective of education is to equip, inspire, and empower young minds for an evolving global landscape, then pedagogical approaches must evolve accordingly. Despite its limitations, TikTok offers a unique pedagogical language. It is concise, interactive, peer-centered, and visually stimulating. While it may never substitute formal education, it plays an increasingly significant role in shaping contemporary learning behaviors and expectations. Therefore, when critics label TikTok as nothing more than an entertainment app, they overlook a quiet educational revolution already taking shape. Education is no longer confined to chalkboards, classrooms, or structured rows of desks. Today, it lives in the fingertips of students who scroll not just for amusement, but for answers, for clarity, for knowledge that feels relevant and reachable. In a world where information overload is real and attention is constantly pulled in every direction, TikTok has emerged as an unexpected but powerful learning companion. It is not here to replace traditional education, but to enhance it, to fill its gaps, and to meet learners where they are. Lessons that once seemed intimidating are now made accessible. Concepts that once confused now click in under a minute. Educational change does not always begin with formal policies or elite institutions. Sometimes, it begins with a teenager sharing a math trick from their bedroom. Sometimes, it starts with a dedicated teacher reimagining their methods to connect with students on their screens. And often, it flourishes in the determination of students who keep learning despite limited resources, long commutes, or self-doubt. This is what learning looks like today. It is personal, immediate, and deeply human. It is a video that makes sense of what a textbook could not. It is a comment section filled with shared struggles and support. It is proof that learning does not need four walls to thrive. It lives in moments of connection, in sparks of clarity, in the quiet resilience of students who choose to grow in new ways. ‒ June 12, 2025 The author is the English Language Lecturer at the Centre for Foundation Studies in Science (PASUM), Universiti Malaya. The views expressed are solely of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Focus Malaysia.