I was never an outstanding student.
Mediocre, and at times even below average in some of my subjects. I was never popular or exceptionally well-liked, and I never ran with the in-crowd. But the school that I came from was a good school, and I am proud to have belonged.
It has been a good twenty years since graduating from Secondary school. While I certainly had my fair share of fun during those intense 4 years, most of the friendships I had then, sadly disintegrated upon graduation. Looking back, maybe I was too young then to understand the importance of keeping and holding friendships. Maybe I was insecure. Almost all of the friends I knew then were headed towards a renowned JC and subsequently without doubt, to further on in a Uni. Either that, or they had plans for overseas studies.
Me? I was stuck in neither. With scores that were barely enough to scrape into a select few neighbourhood JCs riskily and with absolutely no financial means for overseas studies, I had no choice but to enroll into a polytechnic instead.
During the 90's, going to a poly was considered 'second class', frowned upon by teachers and parents alike. Although unspoken, it was a common thought then that going to a poly equalled a lousy future. And that thinking, ingrained into me throughout the years, influenced me to think that I would not achieve anything promising as well.
But I did what I had to do to move on. Shrugging my shoulders with false nonchalance, I enrolled myself into a course. Keeping my head high, I tried to straighten my backbone as much as my low-esteem self could, steeling myself to travel the road that was less desired. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not shake off the feelings of inferiority and the perception of others of me.
Coming from the school I was from, the expected path of progression after secondary school would be to JC, and then subsequently into Uni. The pressure of keeping up was tough. So when I fell between the cracks, I deemed myself a failure. Feeling disappointed, hopeless and ashamed of my results, I remembered sobbing my heart out to my mom who, at a loss on how to comfort me, carried on wordlessly in her household chores.
I sat on the sofa that afternoon crying away for my ruined future, my lost dreams, for not meeting up to expectations, and for the path that I would never have. I cried for those ideals that like the tears rolling down my face, would simply disappear with just one swipe of my hand.
Feeling like I was now beneath them, I began to shun most of the friends and declined gatherings that came my way. Inferiority complex, harsh and cruel, had eaten away at whatever self-esteem I had. That was in 1994. I was 16 then. Impressionable and eager to fit in.
And reality was that I no longer did.
Shortly after, I took on part-time jobs and started school in poly. I immersed myself into a new circle of friends. I felt at ease in starting out again on a clean slate. In some ways, my thinking then were that we were all equals starting afresh in some place far away from the distinguished world of JCs and Unis. Although I could never erase the wonderful times I spent at MG, I felt I could cover up those moments with activities and new friends made, and dull the fact that I would never ever belong in the same league as those friends again.
With my new 'life', I moved onwards starting anew in this alternate path of another 'universe'. As the time passed, I graduated, found a job, got married and had kids. I found other circles of friends and led a pretty normal life in comparison to the bleak picture that I had initially painted for myself in my younger days.
Those days were almost forgotten until last week, when I attended the school's Founder's Day dinner - my first after graduation. Twenty years flew by just like that.
I would have loved to say that throughout those years, I had grown into a confident woman, one who was proud of the results achieved with my (lack of) educational status. But when I was once again surrounded by the same girls, this time more sophisticated, beautiful and successful, the familiar feelings of inferiority came flooding back into my memories.
Even though I knew that the dinner was just a facade everyone put on to show each other their best side, even though I understood the fact that each individual had their own stories uncomparable to the other, and even though I knew that I was doing pretty well in my own standards, I still felt like I fell far short.
Anyone remember the chubby, clumsy girl with plaited long hair, thick eyebrows and the funny thumb? The one with the quirky sense of humour developed to compensate for the lack in self confidence? The one who was never outstanding in any way except maybe for the time when she was infamously sent to A & E to get stitched up after carelessly slicing her hand during an art exam?
That girl grew up.
But though age and maturity managed to mould me into this slightly more confident and wiser woman than I was then, underneath it all I had to constantly fight the thoughts of inferiority that kept creeping in. Peer pressure and status comparison can so easily cripple my sense of self confidence.
I could never be the ceo or editor of any company, nor would I ever be as glamorous and well-travelled as some of the girls I saw that night. I don't dress in fashion's latest trend or sashay around in sexy heels. I don't travel at all for my job, I don't understand cheem corporate lingos, and I certainly don't know nuts about standing on stage giving impressive presentations.
What I do instead, are totally irregular and unpredictable working hours, handling 'clients' of a different kind. Sporting worn out sneakers, I climb right up to rooftops of hdb estates, slash through dense forested areas, experience unpredictable high speed chases and violent struggles (thus keeping my fingernails very short), and the most glaring difference of all - getting exposed to the dark and dangerous side of Singapore.
I know that my job, unglamorous and unprestigious through and through, cannot be placed on the same pedestal simply because they belong to a different league worlds away from theirs. But yet, I had to constantly fight off feelings of insecurity, reminding myself to take pride in my job of many years, where a lot of hard work and experiences were gained, many of which were out of the norm, to where I am standing today. From the bottom of my heart, I knew that my job, in its own way, was 'no horse run'. And still, I struggled to keep a lid on my insecurity.
But at the end of the day, when I get back home to my own little nest, to the warmth of my husband and hugs of my beautiful children, I think to myself - it's enough.
Maybe I did measure up.
Maybe, I didn't.
But it shouldn't matter anymore because I have reached an equilibrium in my life, a point where I am happy and contented with what I have. I might not have everything that I want, but everything that I need is right here with me.
And that is enough.
I have enough.
To Master, To Grow, To Serve.
Thank you MGS for the wonderful times spent in the embrace of your campus(es), for the friends and the laughters, and the joys of learning.
And another Thank you to the very few special ones who had travelled the distance with me on my journey of self discovery, tolerating me when I wasn't me once, and all throughout the years when I was acting weird trying to find my balance. You know who you are. ♡
L.
