It was a lovely Saturday evening. One of those rare nights when the dinner table is full and the kids are calm enough to sit through Snow White without turning it into a WWE match. We had just returned from a long day of training leaders from four schools, hosted graciously by a fellow education pioneer in Klang.
As I sat down to reflect on the day, the irony hit me: we had spent an entire day talking about raising resilient children, and yet I had just spent part of my evening negotiating my own son’s meltdown because he wasn’t allowed more YouTube time.
Welcome to modern parenting.
The Journey to Klang—and What It Stirred In Me
The morning began with guilt. I overslept. And when you’re the one leading a team of school leaders to a training that champions discipline, showing up late feels like a betrayal. They waited for me. I apologised. We moved forward. And we made it on time—barely.
But the road trip wasn’t wasted. In fact, it became a sacred space. Car rides like these often are. We laughed, we caught up, and we prepared our hearts for what was to come: another layer of building the next generation of leaders.
This wasn’t just any training. It was a J4 gathering—four schools leaders coming together in shared purpose, vision, and hope. It’s been a long journey from six of us crammed in one car, to now bringing ten key leaders across departments. The team from Stellar Early Years, Stellar Mastery Academy, and SIS all came. It felt like something deeper was forming. Something generational.
Retirement? What’s That?
During lunch, I sat across from the founder of our host school. He had just turned 70. And there he was—not retired, not observing from afar, but in the room, fully present, fully engaged.
And I thought: there goes my retirement plan.
There’s something humbling about watching someone nearly twice your age show up with twice your energy. He didn’t have to be there. He chose to. And it reminded me: legacy isn’t built in a sprint. It’s forged in decades of presence.
The Hardest Lesson to Teach: Life is Hard
The core of today’s session centered around one brutal, necessary truth: Life is hard. Be harder.
And yet, we’re raising a generation that wants to quit at the first sign of difficulty. A bit only—they cry. A bit only—they want to give up.
As educators, we have to reverse this. Not through shouting or shaming. But through intentionality. Through designing schools where students are allowed to struggle—and are taught how to rise.
I say this not just as an educator, but as a father.
My son has been struggling. YouTube addiction. Mood swings. He breaks his promises. Again and again. And it breaks my heart. Because I can see the long-term consequences he can’t.
And I don’t know how to tell him how serious this is. Not yet. Not in a way he’ll understand. All I can do now is pray, stay consistent, and model what I hope he’ll one day become.
Leaders vs Managers: A Timeless Divide
One powerful section of the training explored the difference between managers and leaders.
- Managers keep systems running.
- Leaders challenge systems that shouldn’t be running anymore.
Leaders are supposed to think differently. Disrupt, not just deliver. Build culture, not just complete checklists.
And that’s when another realisation hit me:
We’re not just educating students. We’re re-educating ourselves—our staff, our culture, even our own leadership assumptions. What worked before won’t always work now. And what works now must be built for the future, not just the present.
Purpose-Driven vs Performance-Obsessed
One story stood out. A student who got into Tsinghua University—not by drilling past-year papers, but by falling in love with science. Why? Because the teacher focused on sparking passion, not just preparing for exams.
That’s leadership.
In the age of standardised testing and parental pressure, this is radical. But it’s the only way forward.
Because content without character is hollow. And character without purpose is unstable.
That’s why we drive three C’s at Stellar:
Content. Character. Competence.
And deeper still, we raise students to be:
- Self-aware
- Culturally appreciative
- Financially independent
- Compassionate citizens
Mapped onto our STARS values:
- Self-Awareness
- Teachability
- Attitude
- Relationships
- Significance
Because at the end of the day, we don’t just want smart students. We want resilient, rooted ones.
The Decline of Play—and What It’s Costing Us
We discussed Jonathan Haidt’s work on the decline of play-based childhood. And it hit home hard.
Unstructured play is how children learn to fail, to fight, to negotiate. But we’ve replaced it with screens, curated schedules, and overprotection.
We’ve traded resilience for safety.
We’ve confused risk with harm.
And we wonder why our kids break so easily.
The statistics are alarming. Screen addiction. Anxiety. Depression. Emotional dysregulation. The numbers keep climbing, especially since the rise of smartphones.
But the cost isn’t just academic. It’s human.
Kids can’t focus. They compare themselves constantly. They’re losing the ability to cope.
And we, the adults, have to answer for it.
What Can We Do? Practical Steps We Must Take
- Reintroduce unstructured play. No-tech recess. Outdoor adventures. Friday screen-free zones.
- Embed SEL in the curriculum. Mood check-ins. Peer reflections. Journaling.
- Build digital boundaries. Teach digital literacy, self-control, and emotional awareness.
- Partner with parents. Guide them in navigating tech, risk, and failure at home.
- Create classrooms as safe spaces. Train teachers to detect emotional red flags and respond with care.
- Redefine success. Shift from grades to growth, from output to impact.
Because the real crisis isn’t academic. It’s identity.
And identity is shaped not by what we teach, but how we live.
A Coffee After Change
After the session, we visited a café. Had Kluang coffee. Laughed. Debriefed. And let it sink in.
Sometimes, it’s in these small moments that big truths settle in.
This isn’t about a training.
This is about building a generation.
And even now, at night, as I watch my youngest whine and scream during play, I know this too is a classroom. Unstructured play isn’t unparented. Every cry, every conflict—it’s a chance to coach. To guide. To grow.
We don’t need perfection.
We need presence.
And presence, I’m learning, is the most powerful pedagogy of all.
The Reverse That Redefines It All
The opposite of failure isn’t success.
It’s escape.
When we rescue our children too quickly… when we remove the struggle… when we soften every edge… we don’t help them thrive.
We just teach them to run.
So today, I recommit.
To parent with presence.
To lead with purpose.
To serve with no finish line.
Because like our 70-year-old mentor still sitting in training…
There is no retirement in nation-building.
Only legacy. And layers.
One child. One school. One soul at a time.
Goodnight.
