What Raising Four Children Taught Me About Culture, Change, and Authentic Leadership
Last Friday feels like yesterday. This Friday is already tomorrow. The week sped by with such blinding speed, I had to check my calendar twice just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
And yet—beneath the hustle, the meetings, the campus plans, and the leadership calls—something deeper is stirring.
Because in 45 days, I’m becoming a father again. My fourth child. My first daughter.
Four Children, Four Mirrors
Each child we’ve raised has marked a different season—not just in parenting, but in my leadership.
Our first son came when I had just left my previous company and poured everything into preparing Stellar Preschool. We were uncertain, broke, and inexperienced—but we were fully present. Every cry, every feeding, every milestone—I was there. The world was small, but my attention was big.
By the time our second child arrived, we were neck-deep in launching Stellar International School. Things were busier. We still tried to be present—but our energy was split. Our second son didn’t get the same level of attention. He had support from our parents, but I knew we were missing the moments.
Then came MCO.
And strangely, I’m grateful for it.
When the world paused, we finally breathed. No visitors. No events. No church gatherings. Just family. We began night reflections around a virtual campfire. We did gratitude rounds. We went to see fireflies, Orang Asli villages, crocodile farms. We discovered how much love could be built in stillness.
That sacred stillness brought our third child—a boy we poured into for one whole year before the busyness resumed. He is the most secure, the most independent—not because of us, but because he was raised among brothers, not under protection. He grew by watching, not just being watched.
Now, as our daughter approaches, I don’t feel panic. I feel perspective.
From Overwhelm to Awe
Lately, my wife gently reminds me, “You’ve been coming home late quite often.”
And she’s right.
The architect meetings. The campus expansion. The HR overhauls. The Student Council camp. The calls with investors, trainers, and government agencies. One day I took so many meetings, I couldn’t even choose a single photo for my daily highlight. Too many moments blurred into one.
And yet, in this blur, something beautiful is happening.
I realised: Each child has not only made me a better father—they’ve made me a different leader.
Parenting as Leadership, Leadership as Parenting
Each child is a metaphor for a leadership phase.
1. The Firstborn: Leadership with No Experience
You overprepare. You obsess. You give 300%—and yet you still feel unqualified. That’s what it felt like leading my first team at Stellar. Every tiny issue triggered a big reaction. Every stakeholder’s feedback felt like a judgment.
But you show up fully. And that presence builds a foundation.
2. The Second Child: Familiar Terrain, False Calm
Now you’ve been here before. You skip steps. You eliminate what seems unnecessary. You become efficient, but sometimes too efficient.
In parenting, I stopped buying new baby clothes because I knew they’d outgrow them in a month. In leadership, I skipped onboarding steps because “they’ll figure it out.” That’s where maturity can become overconfidence.
3. The Third Child: When Culture Raises the Child
This one didn’t need my full attention—he had brothers. He learned from environment, not instruction.
This is what happens when your company culture starts leading people. The words people use, the way problems get solved, the tone of conversations—all that becomes the invisible curriculum.
But there’s a catch: culture compounds. If the elder brother uses sarcasm, so will the youngest. If senior staff cut corners, new hires will do the same.
You can’t undo a culture. You can only replace it.
Which brings me to the fourth.
4. The Fourth Child: New Identity, Old Wisdom
She’s not here yet. But I already know this: she will require a new set of eyes.
We’ve never had a daughter. We don’t know how it feels. And yet—we do know what matters. We know how to adjust. How to prepare. We’ve built enough systems to make room for surprise.
Leadership is like that too.
A new market. A new generation. A new team. It will surprise you. But if your fundamentals are strong, you don’t panic. You adapt.
Will This Outlive Me?
At Stellar, our purpose is clear: To inspire the dream of a better world through innovating education and transforming lives.
That purpose is not mine. It must outlive me.
That’s why we’ve spent the past three years hard-coding culture—into rituals, not posters. Into conversations, not campaigns. Into systems, not slogans.
We used to run things like kampung roads—flexible, free-for-all. But as traffic increased, we needed road rules: keep left, signal before turning, obey speed limits. Some pioneers resisted. “It was easier before.” They were right.
But growth demands alignment.
Parents now go through structured comms channels. Staff follow escalation SOPs. Speed bumps are added not to slow innovation—but to prevent collisions.
And yes, some people left.
One particular leader who had always projected confidence—when the pressure came, the mask fell. The bubble burst. It turned out their leadership wasn’t rooted in principle, but in fear. Their power came from control, not character.
And when control was gone, so were they.
The Reverse That Redefines It All
People often say, “Experience makes you better.”
That’s half true.
Reflection on experience is what makes you better. Without reflection, even four children won’t teach you a thing.
So here’s what I’ve learned:
- Being a good father doesn’t guarantee you’ll be a good leader. But both require the same thing: being present, being real, being consistent.
- Culture doesn’t ask permission. It seeps in. If you don’t design it, it will design you.
- You don’t outgrow mistakes. You grow through them.
- Authenticity isn’t optional. If your leadership is built on fear, one day the roof will collapse. And the people beneath it will get hurt.
And perhaps most importantly:
Leadership is not about having all the answers. It’s about becoming someone worth following—even when the path changes.
So as I prepare to meet my daughter, I prepare to meet a new version of myself too.
A father 4.0.
A leader 4.0.
Not arriving.
Becoming.
Written with gratitude to the children who continue to mentor me—without knowing it. Published for legacy at Purposebility.com.
