By Teo Hui Sian (25S06C) and Lerraine Neo (26A01A)

“And how did you react to your SYF results?” 

For the first time, a reluctant pause. 

It had been a week since they received the news: Raffles Institution Guitar Ensemble (RIGE): Accomplishment—2nd best on the 4-tier ranking system by which Singapore Youth Festival (SYF) judges grade schools’ performances. 

We wait for an answer, but we know one thing for certain—they were aiming for Distinction. 

Before our interview with the RIGE EXCO’25 reached this juncture, they were telling us what we already know – that RIGE is RI’s only developmental performing arts CCA, accepting members with absolutely no musical background. But they tell it with exceptional detail and palpable heart. After all, they are the ones who have been at the helm of it all. 

“Overcoming the ‘boringness’ of it all,” was their most persistent struggle, Chairperson Qiu Bixin (25S01A) says. Practice—as is so often said—does not make perfect. It makes better. And for guitarists with just shy of ten months to piece together a performance for SYF, repetition became the marrow of their routine. Twice a week since the RIGE concert in 2024, the ensemble returned to the same four pieces—relics, at this point—chiseling away at the details.

RIGE Guitarists practice one last time in the music room before SYF.

There is, of course, the added difficulty from the composition of the ensemble: nearly half its members stepped into the club without any prior musical background. Nonetheless, this made the journey to SYF sweeter. 

Mr Cheong, the teacher-in-charge, offers his perspective with quiet pride. “When everyone comes in knowing they’re beginners, there’s a lot of mutual support. Everyone’s less uptight about mistakes because everyone’s learning.” There’s a kind of grace in that—an acceptance that imperfection isn’t failure, just evidence of movement.

Overall, from what we gather, one thing is clear: the environment within RIGE is unwaveringly wholesome, “very chill”, as many of the guitarists put it. 

This all could paint a very wholesome reflection of what RIGE’s CCA journey has been—with memories so rooted in camaraderie and enjoyment that they’d be immune to seemingly disappointing results. 

So, to the question, “and how did you react to your SYF results?” –

“Devastated” is not the response you’d expect. 

Much less “a slap to the face”, as Vice-Chairperson Klair Tan (25S06C) adds. “We were in the middle of Y5 EXCO interviews when we got the news […] we had to pause our interviews to take it in.”

In retrospect, maybe such a reaction isn’t so surprising. Across sports, the arts, and clubs, there is an almost universal truth: that final event, be it SYF or NSG, is more than just a showcase. It becomes a culmination. A last chapter. A stage where years of practice, identity and growth are distilled into something measurable—results. 

Some get to walk away with the outcome they’d hoped for. Others, with something far more complicated.

“[The EXCO] didn’t hide the fact that we were disappointed by our CCA,” Jiang Yuzhen (25S03N) shares. “As a beginners-only CCA, we’re already kind of the underdogs,” she says. 

“Personally, I wanted to prove that we can be chill, but still produce quality. I still think that is true. But the SYF results… they were still a bit discouraging.”

It’s a familiar tension—the desire to stay true to a more holistic, human understanding of the CCA journey, while yearning to be validated by the systems that exist outside of it. When the scoreboard comes out, even the most grounded teams can’t help but look. 

But step back, just a little, and the picture shifts. We can admit we care about the results, but beyond that moment of judgment lies everything else. 

A look back at the memories

Perhaps Jonathan Neo (25S06F), another member of the RIGE EXCO, is the best person to put things into perspective. 

4.5 years ago, just after one of the December practice sessions, the Y14 Guitar Ensemble was met with depressing news: the CCA would be shutting down. 

“The Head of PE told us that due to budget and funding issues, they’ll be shutting down the CCA. And that it was not because we had done badly, or that there was any fault on our side. That was the announcement,” Jonathan recounts. 

Knowing the CCA would die with them left the members disheartened, especially when they were faced with constant reminders of the imminent shutdown—not having juniors to wave to in the corridors, the CCA growing smaller with each year, watching other CCAs have massive CCA outings. But most impactful of all was the sense that they didn’t matter. 

“The fact that we were one of the few CCAs that were shut down, it kind of made us think that we didn’t have any value or merit anymore.”

As the eventual final chairperson of the Y14 Guitar Ensemble, Jonathan wishes things had gone differently. 

“I was too focused on results, rather than really trying to bring the CCA together… I think in the process I missed out on many bonding opportunities—[like] small talk with my fellow CCA members. And certainly it’s not like the laughter that we have here.”

The “here” in question is, of course, Y56 Guitar Ensemble. To the laughter of his fellow EXCO members, Jonathan recounts his first experience in the CCA. 

“I’ve never heard so much laughter in my entire secondary school life. The moment I walked in—I’d never heard so much laughter, so much talking, so much enthusiasm. I don’t even remember [what they were laughing/talking about] but it was just such a lively atmosphere.” 

And when asked why he decided to return as a guitarist in JC, he tells us that “nothing else felt like home. Guitar feels like the only home I’ve had.”

Home—such a loaded word. A sense of belonging, love, and warmth conveyed in a mere syllable. In a society where results come first, a place to just have fun and let loose is rare.

And he’s not the only one to call Guitar Ensemble home—with a shared look and muffled giggles, the rest of the Y6 EXCO share their own favourite memories from the past 1.5 years. 

Yuzhen begins with a story of a fellow CCA member who once showed up to CCA with an electric guitar, completely unprompted. Instead of picking up his usual acoustic instrument, this CCA member took his seat among the ensemble and performed the SYF piece entirely on his electric guitar, much to the delight of his instructors. 

“It had to have been an intentional decision,” Yuzhen says, laughing. “You can’t accidentally bring your electric guitar.”

The rest of the EXCO chime in with another fan-favourite encounter—when Nerissa, the 2024 chairperson, accidentally printed A3 scores instead of the usual A4. 

A funny story isn’t the only thing Nerissa gave the CCA. Klair tells us about the legacy of community and bonding that she and 2024 vice-chairperson Shaun left behind.

“It’s quite a tradition that our CCA is bonded. We inherited this from the previous batch […] they wanted us to recreate that warm and welcoming environment for everyone, and ensure that everyone has a place and home in this CCA.” 

There it is again—home. A word that defines the CCA experience of so many Guitar Ensemble members. Somewhere to return to, someplace to remember. Perhaps that’s why several of the Y7 members, including Nerissa, went down to SOTA to watch their juniors perform. 

When asked if she had a message for her juniors, Nerissa only had one thing to say: “You all did really well. Please don’t look down on yourselves. Give yourselves credit!” 

Above all else, home is a constant. A place where you will always be welcome, people who will always be there for you, something you can carry with you forever. Home never truly leaves you, not even when you leave it.And as their time left with the CCA dwindles, the Y6s strive to make the most of it. 

“I will remember CCA very fondly because it’s the only constant I’ve had in my secondary school and JC life. But I will only truly understand the loss once it’s truly gone.” 

How we should think back to our CCA journeys 

You see great athletes and artists retire—some exit with thunderous ovations, others with the silent dignity of knowing it’s time. 

In JC, you don’t get to choose your curtain call. It arrives—fixed, impersonal—after a year and a half. Then you step down. No matter where you were in your journey, no matter whether the final note was triumphant or trembling. 

In the quiet hierarchy of extracurriculars, the performing arts has always occupied a complicated place—especially when it comes to competition. The idea of results, of being measured and ranked, has never sat as naturally within its DNA. It’s not as viscerally dramatic as, say, the National School Games. There, you lose—clearly, physically, definitively – before you’re handed a silver medal.

The darkness of the SOTA concert hall does not suffocate the same way the midday sun does on an open field ringed with spectators. There are no chants, no final whistles—only the hush of a judging panel and the invisible weight of expectation. 

Nonetheless, the sense of unfinished business is a familiar ache across all CCAs. The thought that, maybe, just maybe, you could’ve done more. Trained harder. Played longer. Reached higher.

Still, as the Year 6s bow out and the Year 5s begin their ascent, there’s a truth that threads through it all: this could be the last time you compete at this level, the last time you play this music, in this ensemble, with these people. What was ever so constant is now gone. 

And so, you make peace with the ending. 

You gave all you can to this chapter—not because it guarantees you a result, but because it won’t ever come again.