The clock ticks each second away, reminding me of how precious a commodity time has become ever since I embarked on the craziest chapter of my life yet.

But such an uncaring fiend it is, that Time. It devours everything in its path, relentlessly pushing forward, paying no heed to the myriad tasks that accumulate day by day.

I thought I knew what to expect—we all knew what was coming and braced ourselves as First Day approached. It came and went, and though we knew—oh, we knew—yet, Reality is still a difficult pill to swallow. And when you do swallow it, it brings with it a jolt and the shock of, Yeap, this is everything you expected—and so much more. 

Every day, I grow more and more frustrated at the system that we are in, and am furious, depressed, saddened, heartbroken, all at once, at the situation that is my kids who can neither read nor write English. Their BM is no better. I can’t comprehend it, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t ask, “How can this happen?” How can this be happening?? 

How is it that these children are allowed to advance to the next level, when their abilities and proficiency clearly do not allow them to perform up to standard? Even my best student is at an intermediate primary school level. And each teacher is tasked to sew the patchwork on as best as he or she can. Where do I begin? This question haunts me every day. Where do I even begin to fix this mess of sloppy stitching? 

I know, I know. Locus of control, et cetera. There are certain things which are beyond our control, and the infuriating state of our education system is one of those things. I may not be able to change the system. Not now, anyway. And that isn’t why I am here. “I want to change the world”—big words, tall order; but if I could change the world for even at least one of these kids, then that is why I am doing what I have chosen to do. But the upward climb is suddenly steep and very scary.

“Don’t despise your past and what has happened to you. It’s what equips you for ministry. It’s what makes you authentic in ministry.”

Why I journal: words, whether inked on paper or displayed on the screen, come alive from the past, speak to me, comfort, and remind me of lessons I am still learning.

We’re already one month into training, and it’s hard to believe there is less than four weeks to go. I already know that I’m going to miss everyone so much by the end of this. Though most of us have only met for the first time during training institute, it feels as if we have known each other for years. I guess that’s what living with each other 24/7 for the past month does to you!

We’ve actually been teaching for the past two weeks, and we’re coming to the end of our third week now, of a four-week holiday school program we call Kem SKORlah. There are moments when I still think, “I’m going to be a teacher”, when in fact, we’ve been teachers these few weeks. I am a teacher. I am a teacher. It feels unreal, especially when I know I have still so much to learn, and a ways to go before becoming the transformational teacher and leader we all aspire to be.

Stepping into the classroom and actually teaching, executing our lesson plans we slave over every day, is an entirely different experience. Learning things on the fly, meeting our students, and all our hopes and dreams of becoming transformational teachers… there is a lot on our shoulders to bear, to make TFM truly a success. There are high expectations to be met and many challenges to be overcome.

There are so many stories I have to tell, so many experiences I want to share. Where do I even begin?

For one, the language barrier had always been something I anticipated, but it wasn’t until this week that the reality of the challenges I will face in my actual school hit hard: I found that I am unable to connect to my students as effectively as my other friends. When I ask them questions in English, the awkwardness is pertinent. My attempt to inject a little BM into my words doesn’t work, because it’s just not ‘me’. From day one, I had informed my kids that I will speak to them entirely in English – partly because I don’t trust myself to speak BM, at the risk of sounding like a fool, and secondly, I simply can’t think fast enough to translate my words into BM. Also, I strongly believe that for one to learn a language, you must be completely immersed in it – that’s how you are challenged, and are forced to listen, understand and think in that language, and therefore learn it. The chief reason why so many Malaysian schools perform so poorly in English is precisely because it is taught by teachers who are simply not competent in English themselves. It’s ridiculous to blame the students for their poor command of the language, when they did not have good teachers in the first place.

So it hasn’t been too bad – they understand me as long as I remember not to speak too fast (lest my words run together like a runaway train – which unfortunately happens, because I have a tendency to talk too fast when I get too animated!). On the other hand, the other three Fellows who are with me, teaching in the same class, use a fair bit of BM when teaching. So they’re able to connect more easily to the students. The language barrier creates a wall, and I guess that’s why my students probably find it harder to relate to me as well. My IS (institute specialist, kind of like our personal trainers slash coaches) told me today that I teach in quite formal English (I apparently have a ‘neutral American accent’ – I think quite a number of Brunei people have that actually) rather than ‘Manglish’ – which is better for the kids in the long run, because then they actually learn proper English. But it’s an adjustment for them, because they are not used to having ‘proper’ English teachers. In any case, it’s still a good experience, as we prepare for the next two years of our ‘actual’ teaching stint.

There are positive stories, of course, the heartwarming experiences. There are the kids in my class who were apathetic on the first day, but the change in some of them, their eagerness to learn and willingness to listen is extremely encouraging. I was very pleasantly surprised and happy last week when one of my girls actually came to me with extra essays she wrote so that I can check them and go through with her!

In spite of the sleep deprivation and the busy schedule, I wouldn’t exchange this for anything else. Just tonight, we had a very inspirational inspire session with Tan Sri Dr Jemilah – so very, very privileged to have met this awesome woman and change agent! Among the many quotable things she shared was “education is the cornerstone for everything” (emphasis mine). And one pertinent question that has been put in my mind today is the question of how I can empower and equip my students in such a way that it sets them up for success, even long after I’m gone? What are the values and abilities I can impart to them, so that they can rely on those to help them when I’m not around? The mark of a transformational and successful leader is how he or she is able to successfully impart core values and vision to the next generation so that the company or group will continue to function beautifully even after the leader has stepped down or passed on the baton.

These past couple of days, one of my favourite quotes by St. Augustine kept echoing in my mind:

“Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.”

“One day, every child in Malaysia will have the opportunity to attain an excellent education.” That is our vision.

Even throughout these few weeks in Kem SKORlah, we’ve already come up against a few things typical to Malaysian education, very bureaucratic, very strict-laced. And it’s frustrating to see how “education” is “conducted”. There needs to be a shift in the paradigm. There needs to be change, or the country will really head down the drain. And here we stand, fiercely clinging onto hope for the better, with the anger and dissatisfaction at the system, and finding courage to see that things do not remain the way they are. No, we won’t see the tangible rewards or results immediately, but we are laying down the framework, the foundation, and planting seeds for a brighter future.

The need is great. And not everyone shares the same passion to want to “change the world”. No, we may not change the world per se. But I know this much: at the very least, we can change the world for that one child.

This year has been rocky, to say the least, but ever since leaving Brunei and arriving in KL last Thursday, things finally appeared to be looking up. Even though I am well aware of the immense challenge and difficulties that are waiting for us in the next two years, I am still excited. I think about the students I will be teaching, and different scenarios play out in my head. I am so scared deep inside that I will fail, but I am thrilled to bits to know that I will be teaching English, something I’m passionate about, to lower secondary school students. I want to inspire them, to impart to them a love of books, words, and reading. I want to see their lives transformed, to see them go against the odds and the naysayers who put them down constantly.

I’m jumping ahead of myself, but my thoughts are all over the place, so I’ll probably just be rambling and going off on trajectories throughout this blog post! So backtracking—left home Thursday, arrived here late afternoon, went straight to Ipoh to visit my grandfather and relatives. Friday afternoon, took the train back to KL and stayed with my cousin for the next two nights before leaving to the Training Institute in Genting on Sunday afternoon.

It was surreal to see the other 49 Fellows. It still is surreal. The Institute officially began yesterday, but we went up on Sunday to get ourselves settled in and had icebreakers to get to know everyone, but I still haven’t had the chance to meet every single one. This is the most accomplished, and most inspiring group of people I’ve ever met. Among the fresh graduates, there are many working professionals with us as well, including a doctor, a lawyer, an economist, engineer, etc. A doctor! Imagine that, a doctor leaving his profession to do this for the next two years. I also met two other young mothers who are on this same journey with us. I think I am continually amazed each day by the people I meet.

Training us are Teach For America and Teach First UK alums, and they are so passionate, and their energy is infectious. Two months is surely not enough to prepare us for the next two years, but I think we all realize that, and know that the next intensive two months will be just enough for us to kickstart our journeys as new teachers in the seventeen schools around KL, Selangor and Negeri Sembilan.

I’ve been surviving on four to five hours of sleep the past two nights, and the schedule has been intense, but so fulfilling. It feels like university all over again, except that this is actually really, really relevant and good. There are a million more things I want to say, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop once I get started on all the things we’ve been learning, and the issues—very real, difficult, challenging issues—we’ve been discussing, not just during the seminars, but over breakfasts, lunches and dinners.

We had an opening ceremony dinner Monday night as well, and all our trustees and all these important people who believe in our cause and are supporting our vision came, as well as potential sponsors. That was surreal, to see these successful business people come and mingle with us, to know that we had their support.

I can’t end this post without talking a little about the rooms! To our pleasant surprise, the rooms are really great, and we all get single rooms each, and to have the privacy and ‘me’ time is awesome, although we do share the bathroom with one ‘roommate’. And even then, I can’t thank God enough for my roommate, who is fast becoming a good friend and sister as we slowly open up to each other and share our lives. And the people. I can’t talk enough about all these wonderful, amazing individuals I have met, all high achievers, with their talents and leadership skills—and knowing that I am not alone in facing opposition or criticism or skepticism from parents and society, was extremely comforting. But most of all, knowing that we all believe in TFM’s cause, to end education inequity, and our desire to see every child in Malaysia receive the opportunity to a quality education.

I know I have forgone two potentially very comfortable paths—first, the music teaching job in Melbourne, and then an even more comfortable life in Brunei. Do the cold feet and doubts still come? Of course. I’d be lying if I kept up this facade of eagerness and excitement. I think deep down, we all know that this is going to be a very challenging two-year job for us. We don’t want to be naive about the difficulties that lie ahead, but we want to believe and maintain that hope.

But the moment I touched down in Malaysia, there was such a sense of peace and certainty, the feeling that this is right, and I knew that I could not have chosen it any other way. There are like-minded fellow brothers and sisters here, and it’s thrilling and amazing to see how God has called each of us to be where we are, and I can’t help but recall Mordecai’s words to Esther, that perhaps, we are indeed called “for such a time as this”. That we can all have Esther’s amazing courage and faith!—to be able to respond “…if I perish, I perish”, with such confidence and hope in the Lord. To be willing to take up the cross and live and die for his cause and kingdom.

“I can never say what I want to say,” continued Naoko. “It’s been like this for a while now. I try to say something, but all I get are the wrong words—the wrong words or the exact opposite words from what I mean. I try to correct myself, and that only makes it worse. I lose track of what I was trying to say to begin with. It’s like I’m split in two and playing tag with myself. One half is chasing the other half around this big, fat post. The other me has the right words, but this me can’t catch her.” 

—Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami