Singapore’s analytical tuition centre — where legal precision meets academic results

Our Story

A letter from our founder

Dear parents,

People ask me why I left law to teach tuition. The honest answer is I didn’t really leave — I just found a better use for the training.

I graduated from NUS Law and went straight into corporate work. IPO listings, prospectuses, regulatory filings. The kind of work where you read the same 200-page document five times because one wrong line means the whole deal falls apart. I was good at it. I was also miserable.

The thing that kept me sane was tutoring. I’d started during uni just to earn some extra money, and somehow never stopped. I’d leave the office, sit down with a student’s exam paper, and feel more awake in that hour than I had all day. My wife will tell you I talked about my students more than my cases.

But here’s what I couldn’t shake. I kept meeting the same student — different name, different school, same problem. Smart kid. Studied hard. Could explain the answer to me perfectly across the table. But the moment they sat down for an exam, something went wrong. The ideas were there. The marks weren’t.

It took me a while to figure out why. In law school, they drill a process into you from week one: read precisely, find the right framework, apply it to the facts, check your work. You do it so many times it becomes automatic. That’s how you survive — whether it’s a contract law exam or a billion-dollar prospectus.

One night I was marking a GP essay and it hit me. I’d been teaching that same process to my students without realising it. The ones who improved weren’t studying more. They were thinking more precisely — the way I’d been trained to think in law.

So I wrote it down. Five steps. I called it SHARP. It wasn’t some big eureka moment. It was more like finally putting a name to something I’d been doing all along.

Leaving law was harder than I expected — not the work, but the conversations. My parents didn’t say much, which in a Singaporean family means they had a lot to say. My colleagues were polite about it, which was worse. An NUS law degree is supposed to lead somewhere specific, and “tuition teacher” isn’t it.

But I’d seen what happens when a student learns to approach a paper with a system instead of just hope. I couldn’t unsee it.

I also made plenty of mistakes early on. My first classes were too big. I thought I could help more students by fitting more into a room. What actually happened was that the quiet ones disappeared. They’d nod along, hand in their work, and I wouldn’t catch their mistakes until it was too late. So I set a rule: six students, maximum. It means I teach fewer students. It also means I actually know each one — where they lose marks, what they’re avoiding, what clicks for them and what doesn’t.

Today I teach students from all over Singapore. Some come from Raffles and Hwa Chong. Some come from neighbourhood schools. Honestly, the gap between them is never about how smart they are. It’s about whether anyone has shown them a system for translating what they know into what the examiner wants to see.

I became a father recently. And I’ll be honest — it’s changed how I see what I do. I used to think of my students as someone else’s children. Now I think about what kind of teacher I’d want for my own. That’s the standard I hold myself to.

If that sounds like your child — knows the content, puts in the hours, but the grades don’t reflect it — I think we can help.

— Jeremy
Founder, A-Worthy