The Courage to Be Seen
30 March 2025 | Reflections on Purpose, Education, and What Oxford Should Really Look For
If Oxford admissions asked me the five questions they use to select future leaders—this would be my reply, 38 years and one burning mission later.
Raw Answers to Real Questions
In my previous article, I explored what elite universities are truly looking for.
Today, I want to answer those same questions myself.
Raw. Unfiltered. Straight out of my 38 years of life.
No corporate polish. No title talk.
I’ve joked that maybe I could apply to Oxford, Harvard, or MIT after this.
But let’s be honest—I’m done with university.
What I’m not done with is learning.
In fact, the most powerful lessons I’ve learned came after university—through parenting, building schools, hiring teachers, failing publicly, and staying up late writing these reflections.
1. Why Do You Do What You Do?
Two days ago, I brought my son for his school field trip.
While I was there, I bumped into an old university mate. We started chatting.
She didn’t recognize me. And I didn’t reveal who I was.
I just introduced myself casually:
“Oh, I’m working in business development at Stellar.”
She replied, “Oh, I’ve never seen you before.”
She was just a caretaker for the day—but wanted to enroll her own child into our school. Unfortunately, the class was full.
I smiled. Apologized. Introduced her to my colleague.
After she left, my colleague turned to me:
“Why didn’t you just tell her who you are?”
I said, “Because I really don’t want to be known by my title.”
Some people wear their title like a crown.
I wear mine like a seatbelt—necessary, but not something I enjoy flaunting.
Yes, I hold the CEO title. But only because I’m responsible for the direction, people, and decisions of our schools.
It’s a hat I wear for the sake of government meetings, banks, collaborations.
But truthfully?
I wish people would just know me as Daniel Loh.
Not as CEO. Not as founder. Just as me.
I sit on the chair. But I am not the chair.
And I often wish I could get up and leave that seat altogether—because leadership distances people from connection, unless you’re intentional about staying human.
So why do I do what I do?
Because I once met a student who lost his legs in an accident—and that single moment shifted my life.
He didn’t ask for pity. He needed dignity.
And I saw how many students weren’t “bad at studies”—they were just bored, unmotivated, disconnected from purpose. Some were dying to leave school the moment SPM ended.
That’s not a student problem.
That’s an education system problem.
Earlier today, I chatted with my hairstylist. A young man, 26.
Driven, thoughtful, process-oriented. Bought his own car. Runs a business.
But for most of his life, he believed that education “wasn’t for him.”
Why?
Because no one showed him how education connects to life.
And that breaks me.
So yes—I picked up a title I don’t even like, for a reason.
To close that gap.
To build something that tells people like him:
“Your potential is real. You matter. There’s a path for you.”
That’s why I do what I do.
2. What Failure Reshaped How You Lead?
I told a friend yesterday:
“I grew up a failure. And I’m actually very comfortable with that.”
I don’t call what I have now “success.”
I call it a result of being in a long-term relationship with failure.
I failed high school. Couldn’t get into university on my first try.
Had to take a whole extra year of foundation studies.
But here’s the paradox:
Failure doesn’t make you weak. Avoiding it does.
Failure doesn’t end dreams. It rewires direction.
That’s what taught me to lead.
Not with perfection.
But with a compass.
When you fail enough, you start listening differently.
You notice quiet people. You value honesty over hype.
You trade quick wins for sustainable direction.
I’ve tasted financial success—and I can tell you—it means nothing without purpose.
It cannot fill the soul.
The only thing I cling to now is direction.
Are we moving toward the right thing?
Because strategy without soul is just noise.
3. What Are You Learning Right Now (Outside Your Job Title)?
I’m learning about legacy.
Succession.
How to write a book.
How to build systems that will outlive me.
I’m learning how to build repeatable impact without burning out.
I’m also learning something unexpected:
How to plant a church.
Not because I want another building with stained glass windows—but because I believe the modern church needs reformation.
Too many are religious—but not transformative.
Too many are looking backward—not leading people forward.
A real church should shape the community’s future.
Not shame them for the past.
And honestly?
It’s not that different from education.
Both are supposed to be soul-shaping spaces.
But both have sometimes lost the plot.
So yes—I’m learning about:
- Spiritual ecosystems
- AI collaboration for the 5th Industrial Revolution
- And how to publish stories that matter
Every day, I write.
I explore.
I make tools work for me—not the other way around.
I’m not trying to go viral.
I’m trying to go deep.
4. What Problem in Education Keeps You Up at Night?
Running just another school.
That keeps me up at night.
The world doesn’t need another school.
It needs something different.
Because the minute schools become a commodity, everything becomes a race:
Facilities. Grades. Marketing gimmicks.
We start comparing uniforms instead of values.
That’s the problem.
So what am I doing about it?
I ask for help.
I learn from giants.
I reach beyond my network—even as an introvert.
I humble myself and seek mentors who’ve built what I haven’t.
Because I sit on the leadership chair now.
And if I don’t function well in that seat—I can’t forgive myself.
That’s how seriously I take this.
5. If a Student Asks You How to Find Purpose—Would Your Answer Come from Theory or Experience?
Experience. Without a doubt.
I’d tell them:
Don’t wait for purpose to land like a thunderbolt.
Instead, go talk to people in their 50s and 60s—people who’ve done what you want to do.
Mentors aren’t optional.
They’re essential.
Look for people with results and integrity.
- If someone tells you shortcuts, flee.
- If they blame others constantly, flee.
- If they ask you to own your life, stay.
- If they say, “Build your character first,” stay.
The problem with youth is not lack of passion—it’s the belief that wisdom will come after you’ve made all the mistakes.
But what if you could borrow someone else’s wisdom now—and still have the energy to act on it?
That’s your golden window.
And I’m living in mine.
I want to spend it impacting the next generation of students—through educators and leadership training.
Because if I don’t do it now, when my risk tolerance is high and my energy is full—when will I?
The Reverse That Redefines It All: Stop Trying to Be Seen
Here’s the irony.
The world says:
“Be visible. Stand out. Build a brand.”
But leadership whispers:
“Disappear. Let others shine. Build people.”
I’ve learned this:
The best leaders often go unnoticed—not because they’re weak,
but because they’re busy making others strong.
Real influence isn’t loud. It’s lasting.
In a world chasing attention, the future belongs to those willing to be unseen—but indispensable.
So, dear Oxford, Harvard, MIT—if you’re reading this:
- Don’t look for titles. Look for tension.
- Don’t look for resumes. Look for scars.
- Don’t look for followers. Look for fruit.
That’s where real leadership lives.
Maybe it doesn’t wear a suit.
It wears humility.
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