"The purpose of inviting guest speakers to the school is to open up my teachers' minds about new possibilities and the demands of the real world," he told me.

I was unable to give the talk but volunteered one of my doctors, an old boy of the school and a superb and compassionate doctor. I told the principal: "My perspective on the education of these relatively elite boys is to teach them that they owe society a duty."

The principal agreed, but observed: "Unfortunately, given the changes in Singapore ... my teachers are increasingly pushed by larger societal forces that worship the relentless pursuit of academic excellence as a means of material gain ... While there is nothing wrong with pursuing academic  excellence, it cannot be an end in itself."

I and many other senior doctors have noticed that a significant percentage of newly graduated doctors are more self-centred and less hard-working than we were.

For example, there are more house officers with each passing year and in some departments there seem to be too many of them. The total work has not increased much but this is divided among more house officers. Yet house officers complain that they are stressed out and they cannot cope with the work.

When I was a house officer, there was no payment for being on call. As a medical officer I was paid $40 for the first four calls in the month, and $100 for each subsequent call. There were no mandatory maximum or minimum number of calls for house officers or medical officers.

But some time after 1990, house officers were not allowed to do more than six calls a month and medical officers were not allowed to do more than four calls. House officers are now paid $110 a call on weekdays and $150 on weekends. Medical officers are paid $210 a call on weekdays and $300 on weekends.

We used to have to do eight to 10 calls a month, and the number of patients I saw each time I was on call was considerably more than the numbers seen by house officers and medical officers today.

But despite having to do less work, junior doctors apparently have less time for self-study today.  Consequently, many training programmes now set aside "protected time" during working days for them to study. In addition, most departments have structured teaching programmes for young doctors - a far cry from the bad or good old days when there was no time during working hours for structured teaching and most of us learnt from patients or senior doctors. And to reinforce our knowledge and ensure we missed no crucial information, we would read a standard textbook from cover to cover.

All of the above would appear to be exceedingly difficult for the present generation of junior doctors. For some years I wondered whether this was the fault of our medical school or indulgent parents.

The parents often come from humble families themselves, but have made good because of our meritocratic system. Having experienced hardship, they feel that their children should have whatever they desire.

Consequently, young Singaporeans are more self-centred and less driven than their parents, and have have little sense of duty to society.

Perhaps this is not a problem unique to Singapore. As Jean M. Twenge and W. Keith Campbell note in The Narcissism Epidemic: Living In The Age Of Entitlement, it is a problem endemic to developed countries. They define narcissism as a very positive and inflated view of self."

Narcissism is the reason five times as many Americans undergo plastic surgery and cosmetic procedures today compared to just 10 years ago. It is the inevitable result of parents teaching their children song lyrics like "I am special. Look at me" - precisely the skill teenagers and young adults obsessively hone on Facebook and MySpace.

What is the solution to the epidemic of narcissism? We cannot artificially create hardship so that our children become resilient. In the past, it was family upbringing that determined how the child turned out. Now, the children spend most of their waking hours in school or with their peers. My view is that the school should at least share the responsibility once shouldered solely by parents.

As I was writing this article, I received an e mail message from the principal of Methodist Girls' School (MGS), Mrs Shirleen Ong, to tell me that Ms Jacqueline Woo, a patient of mine, "has done well for the GCE 0 levels with five distinctions".

Anyone who has witnessed Jac's physical disability will know how remarkable it is for her to achieve what she has achieved. She has a rare condition called "primary generalised dystonia", which has left her body twisted like a pretzel. Her family has been very supportive of her and both her parents give her a great deal of attention. but they have not spoilt her. And her school, MGS, has played a crucial role in nurturing her.

It has accommodated her special needs. For example, because of her dystonia, she cannot write. Even typing on a word processor is tedious. She was given double the normal time for each exam paper,which meant typing for four to five hours at a stretch.

Her mother stood outside the examination hall in case Jac needed to go to the toilet, but Jac was so determined to use every minute that she did not take a break. Her mother said to me in amusement that the invigilators had to change shifts waiting for Jac to finish.

Her determination in the face of her physical handicap has touched many hearts. Even the school cleaner asked how she did and was happy that she had done well.

Some readers may criticise me for basing my conclusion on just one instance. But I firmly believe that a nurturing school that not only teaches a child academic subjects but also builds her character, together with caring but firm parents, is the most practical way of reversing the narcissism epidemic.

We should try to cure this epidemic as soon as possible.

The writer is director of the National Neuroscience Institute.