I attended a lecture in a bar and rediscovered the joy of learning so-called useless things

Two weeks ago, I found myself attending a lecture for the first time since graduating from university in 2017. 

I was early for class, which didn't happen often back in school. Despite that, my classroom, a cosy bar on the second floor of a Tanjong Pagar shophouse, was already packed to the brim. 

There was another marked difference between this lecture and the numerous others I'd endured in my university days. I was excited about the topic: ghost stories in hyper-modern Singapore. 

The lecture was conducted at Braveheart Sake Originals by Ms Ashley Chin, who did her research paper on the same topic as part of a master's degree at England's University of Cambridge.

Ms Chin, a curatorial research assistant at the Asian Civilisations Museum, spent the 45-minute lecture tracing a history of why and how we tell ghost stories in Singapore, from pre-colonial times to the present day. 

One particularly intriguing example came from a 1950 article in The Singapore Free Press, which gave a blow-by-blow account of a medicine man's battle with a spirit in his house, even reporting that he had lost the fight. 

Ms Chin contrasted this with how, as Singapore modernised, the media began to portray spirits as superstition.

As she talked, my classmates and I – about 40 of us in total – listened with rapt attention. Some took notes on their phones while nursing a cup of sake or a cocktail; others fixed their unwavering gaze on our teacher's PowerPoint slides. 

Even after the lecture ended, the audience's curiosity took the discussion further, with questions about the rights of factory workers who experienced outbreaks of mass hysteria in the 1970s – episodes involving people screaming, fainting or entering trance-like states.

None of us really needed to know any of this. But we wanted to. 

For most of us, learning has been tied to either grades in school or productivity in the workplace. 

When was the last time we learnt something purely for the fun of it, with no exam paper to pass, skill to acquire or career benefit to reap – simply because we wanted to know?

WHERE ANY SPACE CAN BE A CLASSROOM

The lecture I attended was the 13th of its kind so far by Remedial Kids, which calls itself a "social community for the culturally curious". 

Roughly once a month, an academic or expert takes the floor to lecture on offbeat topics such as the history of dogs in Singapore. 

Communications professional Jo Lam, now 38, started the community in July 2025, inspired by the trend of taking lectures out of classrooms and universities and into more casual settings such as bars.

Perhaps the most well-known – and most often imitated – is the Lectures on Tap series that originated in 2024 in New York City, the United States. 

Then there's Pint of View, held in Indian cities including Bengaluru, Mumbai and Delhi. The same event concept has also taken off in China, where it's dubbed "academic bars".  

Remedial Kids' next lecture on the ancient origins of the food we eat, happening on Oct 11, is already sold out. Clearly, there is a growing appetite for this type of event. 

But why are so many people craving this type of learning experience? 

At the class I attended, one participant, a research assistant, told me she welcomed the opportunity to learn directly from a subject matter expert. Another, a freelance creative professional, said she was naturally drawn to eclectic topics.

It seemed most people, including me, were not there to tick a box. They were simply, as the second participant said, "kaypoh" (nosy) or curious. 

Until I attended Ms Chin's lecture, I hadn't realised just how much I missed classes. 

As a journalist, I frequently speak to experts on a variety of fascinating topics. However, my brain is often racing through talking points and focused on gathering information for my articles. 

I'm rarely able to sit back and listen to someone well-versed in a subject wax lyrical about their passion. 

With this lecture, though, there wasn't any pressure. I didn't have to take notes for an exam or for work, listen out for quotes I could use in an essay or article, or retain any of the information for a test.

There may also be a biological reason why satisfying our curiosity can feel rewarding. Research suggests that curiosity engages the brain's reward systems.

Associate Professor Chen Zan, principal researcher at the Institute for Adult Learning under the Singapore University of Social Sciences (SUSS), said that this sort of learning can also expand our capabilities and perspectives.

She added that the value in curiosity-driven learning is in helping individuals develop judgment and perspective, and engage more meaningfully with a world that is changing around us.

Even when knowledge may appear to have little practical value, it can still be worthwhile, she added. 

"Seemingly 'useless' learning can have value – not that we can always identify a hidden economic benefit, but because human development itself is a legitimate outcome of learning."

I, too, used to think learning needed a clearly defined outcome to be worth my time. But now, I've realised I might have been limiting myself. 

I've been missing out on expanding my mind, growing as a person and – far beyond any lofty aims of self-improvement – simply having fun. 

MAKING SPACE AND TIME FOR CURIOSITY

But wanting to stay curious is one thing. Finding the time and energy for it as an adult is another.

For many adults, the hours available for curiosity have to compete with the hours demanded by work, family and other responsibilities.  

Ms Chin's lecture on ghost stories wasn't my first attempt at learning purely for the joy of it. 

On a whim in July, I signed up for a talk titled Is There Space for Spirituality in Secular Singapore. It was organised by Stranger Conversations, a community that regularly brings strangers together to exchange ideas and experiences. 

I was interested in the topic. I was excited to hear what others had to say about it. I even put my money where my mouth was, paying S$15 to book a slot weeks ahead of the event. 

When it came time to attend the session on a Monday evening, I elected to stay home and catch up on my work instead. 

Feeling like I was falling behind on my tasks, I found it hard to justify spending the evening out. 

But why had I thought of it as a decision that needed justifying at all?

After missing the event, I wondered: If the session had promised to make me better at my job, would I have sprinted there? 

In practice, curiosity alone did not seem like reason enough for me. That instinct to prioritise productivity is something I have to unlearn.

I'm still working on making more space in my life for curiosity, but I have found that committing to a class or lecture with a friend gives me that extra bit of motivation to make it there. 

And while in-person learning events typically require more planning and time, I think they're well worth it. 

As Ms Grace Ann Chua said to me during a chat at one of her events, there's something about the energy of an in-person gathering.

She is the founder of Friendzone, a social enterprise that helps people build meaningful connections, and Steady, a community focused on learning about relationships, 

There can be a sense of solidarity and community in meeting like-minded people who are curious about similar things or might be at the same life stage. 

While I have not experienced this myself, organisers of such events told me that participants often end up chatting with each other, forming enduring friendships and hanging out together.

That shared experience, in particular, is something that cannot be replaced or replicated by simply looking up information online. 

Seemingly "useless" learning can have value ... because human development itself is a legitimate outcome of learning.

One of the highlights of Ms Chin's lecture was when she screened a short clip from the horror documentary series Incredible Tales. In one scene, a Malay shaman tasked with cleansing a haunted nightclub declared in all seriousness: "I can’t speak their language … I don't deal with Chinese ghosts." 

The room erupted in laughter. Somehow, the absurdity of a Malay shaman having a language barrier with a Chinese ghost seemed funnier when there was a room full of people hearing the same thing and laughing along.

Had I stumbled upon the clip online alone, I doubt it would have been half as funny. 

There is, admittedly, some irony that the lecture I attended purely out of curiosity has now found its way into my work, as you're reading now.

But I certainly didn't walk into that bar expecting to get better at my job or pick up new writing skills.

I went because I wanted to hear about ghosts, and I now know that newspapers used to devote precious page space to ghost sightings. 

The lecture made me curious enough to dig up several entertaining, but ultimately "useless" old newspaper reports on hauntings. 

It's even got me thinking of finally exploring all the "frivolous" things I've been putting off: astronomy, drawing and botany, to name a few.

It was a bonus that the lecture gave me something to write about, but what came first was the joy of learning.