From 18 to 28

Yesterday, I attended a closing ceremony of one of my schools for the summer vacation. While it was the usual plethora of (rather dry and incomprehensible) speeches, one part from the Principal's speech rocked my brain.

"Now you are 18 years old. Have you thought of what you will be 10 years later, when you are 28?"

It sent a chill down my spine as I was reminded of my impending 28 in 2 months.

Let's see, what was I thinking when I was 18? A levels was a really tough nut, then there was the incoming NS, then there was university application which was seriously the first time I have ever faced with making lifelong decisions primarily on my own. I dreamt of preparing myself for a job that allows me to move up a career of some sorts, finally with the power to earn money.

Now at 28. I've been in Japan for almost a year. I was teaching in a rather unconventional institution before this. Then there was university and there was NS. I am still teaching in another unconventional system, though I am starting to wonder if this 'unconventionalism' will pay off. However, while I am at it, looking at the bigger picture, everything seems to be a marvellous fit. Fate has really been kind to allow me to pick up whatever I endeavour to do, though during those particular moments of thinking about "what's next", they were not smooth sailing spreads of green grass but of anxiety. Probably I am short-sighted, impatient and having a keen sense of urgency which I should temper.

Have I dreamt of my situation now? Probably not from the vantage point of 18 where I had to make my own decisions. However, my life now mirrors the time whethe doors of possibilities first dawned. That era where one can be everything. That era called childhood.

Looking at yet again another 5 and 10 years later, which voice should I listen to? The voice of reason says get back to Singapore, climb the ladder, settle down. The voice of the child who got stuck at the top of a tall ladder in kindergarten and wailed and thought his life was over then seems to say, in a voice that grows increasingly fainter, the world is still big and wide and out there. Go walk a little, go eat a little, go contemplate a little. Probably with a companion and toddlers as big as that child.

Incidentally, before I left, I told an English teacher about this stroke of coincidence and she said, "I"m sure she meant something else."

Of course, that was for the kids. By some uncanny brush of fate, it was for me too.