A good friend of mine, James, has an interview this morning. It is quite important. If he is successful, it will mean quite a lot in the future. If he fails, he will certainly be at a disadvantage.

Given the importance of doing well, he has spent some time preparing and rehearsing answers to practice questions. What he wears to the interview has been carefully thought out as first impressions are very important. There is a lot riding on the 15 minutes he will spend being questioned.

James, however, is not taking this very seriously. I am confident that he does not have the faintest idea how important this is. In fact, it is fairly likely that he will not even realise that he has to do an interview at all until he is right there in the room.

James is two years old. His interview is for the purpose of whether he will get into primary school, in a couple of years. There is nothing particularly special about the school he is applying to; its admission policies are the same as a lot of schools in Hong Kong.

I have been known to produce pieces of pure fiction in this column from time to time, but I am not making this up. This actually happens. Schools really employ people to interview two-year-olds and make a decision about each toddler's academic future.

The sad reality is that the competitive spirit that drives Hong Kong's economic fortunes has somehow infected the city's education system, too. Pretty much everywhere it matters which university you go to. But here it matters which primary school you go to.

Instead of splashing about in puddles or chasing each other around the playground, children are attending etiquette lessons, elocution classes and learning how to sit still. And I am not talking about the kids you might see working behind the counter at McDonald's, I am talking about one and two-year-olds preparing for school admission interviews.

What is it that an interviewer is expecting to learn from a conversation with a toddler, I wonder. Could anyone really think that the behaviour of a two-year-old child is a good indicator of what kind of primary or secondary school student they are likely to be? Do these interviewers think that they can tell the difference between a two-year-old Einstein and a two-year-old George Bush?

My friend James did not do well in his interview. The interviewer reported afterwards that James would not be getting into this school based on his performance.

"Did he get his favourite colour wrong?" asked his mother. Did he incorrectly state that there were three rather than two cars on the desk? Did he suggest that the rightful place of freedom of speech in a democracy was limited by the importance of protecting legitimate state security apparatus?

No. Apparently he became quickly frustrated with the conversation, refused to participate and then got upset when he was not allowed to play with any of the toys in the room. In other words, he threw what is commonly known as a tantrum.

Anyone with any experience of two-year-olds will know that tantrums take place at random times throughout the day and are a simple chore that parents have to put up with.

And if "Does your child ever throw tantrums" was a question on a school admission form that everyone answered correctly, there would be extremely small class sizes.

In James' case, this particular tantrum, although one of hundreds he will no doubt throw this year, was an event with significant bearing on his future. It resulted in him being refused entry to this school. His parents will apply to other schools and with any luck he will get into another one.

The only positive thing I can think of about this admission procedure is that even though he is being observed and assessed by school administrators who have the power of determining his future, James himself is completely oblivious of it all. In fact, he appears to have no interest whatsoever in the outcome of his meeting with the school. He remains for the moment fortunate enough to be able to simply be a child.

That is of course for the best. If he knew that even in his infancy he was competing for academic and economic opportunity, well he would probably throw tantrums all the time.