FollowYesterday, the air in Subang was buzzing with the kind of nervous, excited energy that only a room full of high-achieving students can generate. It was the venue for the announcement of the winners and prize-giving ceremony of the Pearson Test of English (PTE) competition. Cass was among the attendees. She went there with her English teacher after sitting for her SPM Trials Science paper.
This wasn’t just any gathering. Out of 485 students from across the entire nation—each one a strong contender with a command of the English language—only 40 were named finalists and invited to this special event. To even be in that room was an accolade in itself. I am incredibly proud to say that Cass was one of them.
The competition was fierce, and while she didn’t take home the grand prize, she did return with a tangible symbol of her hard work: a trophy recognising her achievement as a national finalist. Out of 485 participants, Cass ranked among the top 40. That is no small feat, and it’s a moment worth celebrating without any reservation.
The winner, deservedly, was a brilliant Senior 3 (Form 6) boy from her own school, who won a laptop for himself and one for the school—a fantastic achievement that everyone celebrated.
But this experience got me thinking about the true value of competitions. It’s so easy to see them as a simple binary: you win or you lose. And because of that fear of losing, so many people shy away from even trying. The “what if I’m not good enough?” voice can be incredibly loud.
Cass, however, seems to have a quieter voice that says, “What if I am?” or, more importantly, “What will I learn if I try?”
This isn’t isolated to English proficiency tests. This same spirit fuels her on the athletics track and, most profoundly, on the ice in her figure skating, which is her ultimate passion and lifeline. She understands something crucial that many adults still struggle with: life is not always about winning. It’s about showing up.
It’s about the courage to put your skills to the test against a national or even international standard. It’s about the resilience required to prepare, to practice, and to perform under pressure. It’s about the grace to congratulate a friend and competitor who had a better day. And it’s about the humility to accept a result that isn’t first place, while still being proud of how far you came.
That trophy on her shelf is more than a piece of metal and plastic. It’s a reminder that she had the courage to enter the arena. It represents a story of effort, a moment of national recognition, and a stepping stone in her journey.
She has a long and exciting road ahead, filled with many more competitions, especially on the ice. There will be wins and there will be losses. But if she continues to carry this mindset—one that values participation and growth as much as the podium—then she has already won the most important prize.
And for that, I couldn’t be more proud. Here’s to the next challenge!
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