🔍 Comprehension Skills

Read the passage carefully

At the heart of Kampong Glam stood a magnificent banyan tree that had watched over the neighbourhood for more than a hundred years. Its massive trunk, as wide as a car, was covered in thick, rough bark that told the story of countless monsoon seasons. Aerial roots hung down from its sprawling branches like ancient curtains, some so thick that children used them as swings during the school holidays.

Uncle Razak, who had lived in the neighbourhood for sixty years, often sat on the wooden bench beneath the tree, sharing stories with anyone who would listen. "This tree was already old when my grandfather was a boy," he would say, his eyes crinkling with pride. "It has seen kampongs become HDB flats, dirt roads become highways, and children grow into grandparents."

One morning, a notice appeared on the tree. The government planned to widen the road, and the banyan tree was in the way. It would have to be removed. When Uncle Razak read the notice, his shoulders slumped and he sat down heavily on his bench without saying a word. Within days, residents young and old gathered to discuss what could be done. A petition was started, and over two thousand signatures were collected in just one week. Primary school students from the nearby school wrote letters to the authorities, explaining what the tree meant to them.

Three months later, the government announced that the road would be redesigned to curve around the tree instead of going through it. Uncle Razak smiled for the first time in weeks. "You see," he told the cheering crowd, "some things are worth fighting for."

Read the passage carefully

Aisha stared at the disaster on the kitchen table and wanted to cry. Her volcano model, which she had spent three weekends building for the Primary Five Science Fair, had cracked right down the middle during the night. The papier-mache had not dried properly because of the humid weather, and now it looked like a sad, deflated mountain instead of the impressive Mount Vesuvius she had planned.

"The Science Fair is tomorrow," she whispered, fighting back tears. Her younger brother, Imran, peered at the volcano from behind his cereal bowl. "It looks like a pancake," he said unhelpfully. Aisha glared at him.

Her mother, who had been watching from the doorway, walked over and placed a hand on Aisha's shoulder. "What if we think of this as an opportunity?" she said gently. "Sometimes the best ideas come from solving unexpected problems."

Aisha spent the rest of the day working on a new approach. Instead of just the volcano model, she created a presentation comparing different methods of building volcano models, including photos of her failed attempt. She explained the science behind why papier-mache behaves differently in humid climates, and she even conducted a small experiment showing how moisture affects the material's strength.

At the Science Fair, the judges were fascinated. "Most students would have just brought a volcano," said Dr Lim, the head judge. "But you turned a setback into a scientific investigation. That is real scientific thinking." Aisha won second place — but more importantly, she learned that failure is not the end of the road. It is often just the beginning of a better one.

Read the passage carefully

When the empty plot of land behind Block 456 was announced as the site for a new community garden, not everyone in the neighbourhood was pleased. Mr Goh, who lived on the second floor directly above the plot, complained that it would attract insects and create a mess. "I moved to an HDB flat to get away from dirt and mud," he grumbled to anyone who would listen. Mrs Krishnan, on the other hand, was thrilled. She had grown up on a farm in India and missed having her hands in the soil.

The first few months were challenging. The soil was poor, the sun was scorching, and most of the initial volunteers dropped out after the first week. Only a small group of dedicated residents continued to show up every Saturday morning, hauling compost, pulling weeds, and learning from their many mistakes. Mrs Krishnan patiently taught the younger residents how to tell the difference between a weed and a seedling, and how to water plants without drowning them.

Slowly, green shoots began to appear. Then flowers. Then vegetables — kangkong, chilli padi, tomatoes, and lady's fingers. The garden became a meeting point where neighbours who had lived in the same block for years but never spoken to each other finally introduced themselves over shared gardening tools.

One evening, Mrs Krishnan left a basket of freshly picked vegetables at Mr Goh's door with a note: "From your neighbour's garden — and yours too, if you ever want to join us." The next Saturday, Mr Goh appeared at the garden gate, wearing an old pair of gardening gloves. He did not say much, but he pulled weeds for two hours straight. When he left, there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face.