I was an Ace student. Priding myself to have come through that kind of family background, and yet reaching such heights in my academic results. Doctors, pilots, lawyers were all possibilities where I might one day land my foot in. Teachers openly discussed about my potential, giving nods of approval, and entrusting me with leadership positions despite my introverted personality. I was riding on high, a decent character in context.
I remember the times how I used to get so frustrated with my older sister when she refuted my persuasion to modify her study method. I was convinced that mine was the correct one. When things were going so smoothly, the streak of aces in my report card helped my conviction. Past failures from primary 1 and 2 remained as history as I refused to look back, having come so far. I took pride in my own ability, ability to provide assistance beyond my supposed capacity. I remember how my sister used to tell me about how the teacher was unable to solve a mathematical problem from her homework which I helped solve the night before. I was primary 4, and her primary 5. There had also been moments when I looked in bizarre when people had to cheat in their exams or alter their results because all these had seem foreign to me. There was no need for those, and that needlessness bred a certain form of detest for such "immoral" acts. Self-righteousness was brewing within the adolescent me.
The little jet plane that I was in continued to take off higher when I entered secondary school. Even until today, I announced my secondary school with lots of hesitation whenever questioned. I was a "Dunman High- calibre" student. A score of 258 could have gotten me to any of the elite school if I had wanted, and my family allowed. But my mother objected, putting the blame on a distance too far for the little me whom had never travelled beyond 20 minutes by foot to school. I ended up going to Ngee Ann Secondary, where I rose even higher. For 2 consecutive years, I was the top 3 in level. My improving grasp of the English language which I have always struggled with added icing to the already very delicious cake. For the remaining of the school years, I continued to be one of the top within the school, apparently disinterested in the fact that my diligent peers were catching up fast. Once, I returned to my primary school as a school ambassador and overheard my ex-form teacher labeling me a highflier. Perhaps predisposed by an upbringing that lacked genuine affirmation and even directions, such approval from external source puffed me up.
I was reaching the peak of my life. Deliberate and conscientious attempts and efforts to shed away the "introvert skin" was chiseling myself, my whole being into something I have never been or expected to be in my entire childhood. I became the Student Council's vice president, and the Chinese Orchestra that I was in won a gold for SYF. Holistically speaking, I was the "best" to have emerged, more than making up for my inadequacy to claiming top or even second spot in the academic standings. That same period, I got my first girlfriend, albeit bringing much regret as I look back so many years on. Life had seemed to be complete, and the completeness deceived to be permanent.
On the day of the official release of my O'levels results, speculation reached me even before I reached school, "There was a guy who took higher mother tongue topped the school with 8 distinctions." So many said it was me, and despite my awkward humility to deny that, I was convinced inside that it really could be me. Another apex I would have scaled if it were me. Truth be told, it was not, and I fared worse than I would have expected. A decent 8 points, which would have been a very good score in the eyes of many. I was disappointed definitely, but I did not show. Somehow, somewhere, sometimes over these 10 years of achieving, the pride had casted me a mask- a mask to hide away the expression of genuine feelings; a mask that shields against any conceding of defeat.
All these while, I was living on self-reliance. At certain point in time, I even turned away from the deities that my family and I have been worshipping all my life. Every thing had seemed nonsensical, myself fully embraced in the necessity of knowledge and science. Life had seemed too smooth, and myself too carried away in the fragrance of success. I did not recognize the movement of God's hands in my life, the placing of those many wonderful teachers whom have molded me; the kind of upbringing my family gave me to establish the firm moral values and responsibility. I was the typical good guy, those whom perhaps some Christians would exclaim "he should be a Christian". And truth be told, my Lord was paving the path for my return.
In junior college, I was overwhelmed. Conviction of my own abilities led me to many ambitions- how I had wanted to take triple science (a crazy combination at JC level), how I had wanted to become the house captain, how I had wanted to juggle one CCA (it was called PDP-people's development program during my time in Temasek JC) with many other. Then I tasted my first setback, but my belief sustained me. It was almost like a self-comforting mechanism that it must have been a careful slip. Subsequent slips did not bother me much as I witness my peers around me struggle. It must have been the norm, and the problem couldn't have been me. Somewhere within me, I was convinced that I was at the same level as some of the eventual straight-ace students. Occasional blips of success such as the one-time topping of the level for a component of the Chemistry paper scoring 19 out of a possible 20 helped that belief. My ability to grasp concepts with ease threw all my doubts about my own abilities out of the window as I continued to explain various difficult concepts to my peers.
When they worked hard, I was always around boasting about the new found belief in Christ- that life is not all about studies. Was I really committed to the cause for Him? I certainly doubt so. It was more like a self-justifying comment to justify my reluctance to study hard like the rest. Soon A'levels came and went. I fared kinda badly this time, by my "usual standards". A straight "B-s" I would usually say as a matter-of-factly, not wanting to dwell on the single "C" that I got for General Paper, and of course the prideful "A" that I was the only one to get in my group for Project Work. Straight "B-s" seemed to me better than any C, and still, people tried to comfort me and tell me that it isn't that bad. Some even responded in shock, questioning my judgment since a supposed "bad" result had warranted me a placing in all of the 3 NUS, NTU and SMU. I think I could have done science if I had wanted to, but "JC killed that interest" I always reflected. Indeed, the education system in Singapore and the school's standing had created a culture of "preparing the students for exams" rather than education, a seemingly deviating course from what schools ought to do. Yet my citizenship and my allegiance to the nation meant that I didn't really have a choice.
Then I signed on with the Navy. That was the first time I felt so humiliated and so broken. Firstly, the training environment where hypocrisy and intolerance, and an apparent lack of encouragement flung me onto an alien's planet. If I had gone, I could have been diagnosed with depression, and it was such a struggle during that 1 year. So many times I wanted to give up, and so many times I sought ways to reconcile my attitude with the situation. It was not easy, forget about it being fun. Once, the captain talked to me about the scholarship. At the beginning of the course, I was told that I was eligible for the scholarship. That person, of course, made it a point to emphasize that eligibility did not equate warranty. I mean I know that I was reserved, and many a times a lot of things were well-below my all, but I did my part, and at the end of the course, my performance had been acknowledged by many. So I was very sure, at least until then, that I was going for the scholarship. I even remember how the interview went- with me telling the combination of more than 20 crabs (the crests on the shoulders of militants that resemble crabs- the more one bears, that higher the rank he holds) that I love to attend interview. There were so much laughters, I thought it was really good. Until my name went missing in the list of shortlistees, followed by the captain telling me how he had recommended me for the scholarship but only to be rebuffed by the course commander; about how the policy had changed over the course of that many months that I have been in the training. I fumed when I saw what kind of people got selected in place of me.
I resolved to do well in university to prove them wrong, still convinced in my own ability. First semester came and went, and it was another setback. Perhaps the crossover from Science to Arts require some time for transition; perhaps I was too busy with hall; perhaps; an extended break from study into army required me to readapt; or perhaps... Could it be me? All these time in university is another transition in my life. Things happen too quickly, and men can only adapt, or be buried. The shattering experience in military left a black mark in the "private" me, though the public never really see it. A few days back, I met my primary 6 form teacher over a meal, and she commented about me 9 years back, that she thought I had a lot of things in my head, but always held them back. In the past 1 year, I think that is something which I had forsaken for a long time, but readopted. It felt so pointless to comment sometimes, and it felt so tiring to even care. Somehow, I think I sent some kind of vibes to many- how some people continue to refuse to believe that I used to be an introvert. Responsibility continues to befall upon me despite my efforts to lie low. I became a complicated person, what I thought I am genuinely; what I thought I portray to others which I thought is different; what other perceive me as which is again different; what others expect me to be which I think is yet again different.
The recent exams were crazy. In fact, this semester is crazy! I made friend with a professor, and I even publish a book for my 21! Oh yes, I turned 21 just last week! I want to continue to attribute all glory to God in the highest, though pride seeps in sometimes, or perhaps that is the joy of the Lord? I did pretty decent for one of my Psychology papers, while the other one seems to be doomed for the worst. My GEM was a huge disappointment. I felt I did all right. In class, I was the only one who genuinely listened and took notes. I studied for it. For class quizzes I was the one who did them the fastest and even lent advice to my peers. Because those were opened discussion, I believe all of us got the same results, but that mid terms, it just felt so unfair. And perhaps for the first time, I began to question my own ability. I wonder if I have studied hard enough, but unless I glue my eyes to the book and not turn from it for many days, reread and revise over and over again, I would never say I studied hard enough; I wonder if I have become dumber; I wonder if I'm losing it.
Daddy,
I am angry with You. When I was down, I continually asked You to speak to me in Your audible voices, but I could not hear You. I asked You why but I received no answer. I refuse to turn from You and I continue to turn to You in hope of You finally speaking to me. I want to trust in You and trust in Your provision, so help me Lord to overcome my unbelief. Lord, show me Your way and keep me on it. I recognize Your grace in my life and I thank You for those. Help me to be like Job, so that I can keep faith, even if I lose the things that matter to me. Help me to look beyond earthly values, and help me to desire Your approval more than the world's approval. Even if it means more loss, Lord, help me cling to You and let not my faith and hope in You be shaken, for I take pride in my identity in You, and I take joy in my relationship with You. May You keep me and help me to stay close always.
In Jesus's most precious name I pray,
Amen!
Your child,
Judah
