Many people have inspired me in life.
Today, I stand as a paediatrician – a child advocate, entrusted with the care of young lives. But long before the white coat, before the responsibility and long nights on call, I was just a small-town boy. Curious. Impressionable. Shaped quietly by the people who believed in me before I knew what I could become. They were my teachers.
I still remember standing outside my house, looking at the veranda of my neighbour, Mr Chandrasegaran Muthusamy's home. He would conduct tuition for Form 4 and 5 students, and there I was, a primary school boy listening from the sidelines, trying to keep up. Perhaps I was just being nosy. Or perhaps I had already discovered something powerful: the joy of learning.
At 12, there was Puan Suria Abdul Kadir, my Standard 6 teacher. She taught us that education was not confined to books. Visiting her home during Hari Raya was more than a festive occasion – it was a lesson in humanity, unity and compassion.
In my early secondary years, Puan Abidah, my kemahiran hidup (life skills) teacher, left a lasting imprint. She taught me something deceptively simple, yet life-changing: learn to say no. Through her guidance, I began to understand leadership, boundaries and self-respect.
Then came the teachers who instilled discipline. The ones who trusted me with responsibility, appointing me as head prefect, pushing me into roles that required me to organise and lead. At the time, they felt like challenges. Today, I recognise them as training grounds.
And then, there was the late Mrs Palmawathi M.K Menon, or Mrs Padma Menon. She was more than a teacher – she was family, a mentor, a constant presence. Her belief in me extended beyond the classroom. Even after school, our journey continued in advocacy. Many assumed we were mother and son. That was how deeply she shaped me.
I found my voice through Mr and Mrs Sivagurunathan, who introduced me to drama and choral speaking. Under their guidance, I realised confidence is not something you are born with – it is something you practise, one voice, one stage at a time. Teachers like Mrs Haema Malini and Mr Chu Foong Kat each added a brushstroke to who I am today. It was in Mrs Haema’s classroom that curiosity stopped being a distraction and became something worth nurturing.
Medicine, in many ways, is simply another classroom. As a house officer, I once again found myself uncertain and overwhelmed, learning from scratch. This time, my teachers wore white coats. Consultants who corrected me, challenged me and believed in me even when I doubted myself.
Dr Tan Kah Kee, a walking encyclopaedia of paediatric infectious diseases, was one of them. He did not just give answers – he taught us how to think. Alongside him were many others in the Paediatrics department at Hospital Tuanku Jaafar Seremban, who guided and inspired me in different ways.
And Dr Thiyagar Nadarajaw, who shaped my principles, reinforced discipline, and reminded me to do the right thing, the right way.
Not every lesson came gently. I was scolded, corrected, misunderstood. There were moments I felt overlooked, even defeated. Yet these became some of the most important lessons of all, building resilience, teaching humility and preparing me for a profession that demands both strength and compassion.
In recent times, we have heard heartbreaking stories of doctors struggling silently – burnout, emotional exhaustion, the weight of expectations. The transition from student to doctor can be overwhelming. Not because we are incapable, but because we are human.
This is where teachers matter more than ever. A good teacher does not just impart knowledge – they recognise when a student is struggling. They guide, reassure and remind us why we started.
And perhaps, that is the role we must now embrace – to not just be professionals, but to be teachers to those who come after us. To guide, not judge. To support, not silence. To build, not break. Because someone once did that for us.
And somewhere along this journey, I discovered my greatest teachers of all – my patients. The premature baby fighting for every breath. The child with chronic illness who smiles despite pain. The anxious parent who places their trust in your hands. They teach lessons no textbook ever could – about courage, resilience, patience and humanity.
And so, when we speak about Teachers’ Day on May 16, it is not just about schools or classrooms. It is about every individual who has shaped us.
I am who I am today because of them. And I am still becoming, because the journey of learning never ends.
So on Teacher’s Day, pause for a moment. Think of that one teacher who believed in you. Reach out. Make that call. Say it simply: “Thank you.”
