It Takes a Kampung: Charmaine Tan’s Valedictorian Address, Specialist Diploma in Learning Support for Specific Learning Differences (SpLD) 2026

Good morning, my fellow graduates, educators, members of the DAS family, family and friends.

It is a great honour to be standing here with all of you today.

My name is Charmaine, and when I first received the email telling me I had been selected as this year’s valedictorian, I honestly thought it was a scam. I checked the email address, and then I checked it again.

And it wasn’t because I didn’t believe in myself. It was because I had never really thought of myself as an exceptional student.

For my PSLE, O Levels, Diploma and even my Bachelor’s degree, I was always… average. So, standing here today is a rather unexpected and wonderful surprise.

But perhaps, after everything I have learnt through this journey, I now understand that being “average” was never really the problem.

My journey with DAS began about five years ago, when I found out that my son was dyslexic. I enrolled him in the Main Literacy Programme and later, Math classes.

Before DAS, he had attended other centres with very different teaching approaches and expectations. I remember seeing his confidence slowly being affected. He would come out of some classes looking like his spirits had been crushed.

So naturally, he had some reservations when I told him we were going to give DAS a try.

Today, he looks forward to his weekly classes so much that if a class is cancelled, he is utterly disappointed.

I attribute much of that transformation to the wonderful educators at DAS — people who take the time to understand each child’s personality, pace, strengths and potential.

So when a good friend asked if I wanted to take the Diploma in Learning Support for Specific Learning Differences with her, it was an easy yes.

Initially, I thought I was doing it simply to learn how to help my son.

But just before I enrolled, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had already undergone surgery and still had months of chemotherapy and radiation ahead of me.

So this course became more than just a qualification. It became something to look forward to — something that gave me purpose and kept my mind engaged during a difficult period in my life.

Those were some challenging times. There were days I woke up feeling so tired but had to drag myself to go online to attend the lectures. My husband would never fail to bring me a cup of coffee every single time while I attended these lessons — just to keep my spirits up! (He’s a keeper!) There were even some days I attended classes from treatment centres. My parents always made sure I was fed with nutritious food, my siblings were with me all the time during my treatments and my kids gave me so much love and encouragement every single day.

There were also many days and nights spent practising those 85-phonic card drills and studying with my friend, who took this journey with me. Jade, I share this stage with you.

I was never doing this alone.

I had my husband, my children, my parents, my siblings, my friends and my supervisors. My kampung carried me through those difficult days. And being able to pace my modules allowed me to continue without feeling that I had to choose between my health and my studies.

And somewhere along the way, this course became much more than learning how to help my son.

It changed the way I see learning — and, more importantly, the way I see people.

I learnt about phonics, morphology, suffix rules and different ways of teaching, different ways of learning. But beyond all the strategies, I learnt something much bigger:

There is no one-size-fits-all way of learning.

Growing up in the local education system, I was used to thinking there was one right way to learn, one expected pace, and one measure of success.

But sometimes, when something isn’t working, we don’t need to try harder at the same thing. We simply need to try … differently.

That has changed the way I support my son. I have learnt to respect his pace, celebrate his progress, no matter how small and, most importantly, block out the noise around us.

Our role is not to force him to grow faster. It is to give him the right environment in which he can grow.

And perhaps that is also why I am standing here today.

Maybe an “average” student like me can become valedictorian after all — when she is given the space to learn differently.

So, to all the educators here today, thank you. (Special shout-out to my supervisors Jolene and Siti, and my son’s teachers, Ms Aliah and Mr Taufik.)

It takes a very special kind of person to be an educator — someone compassionate, patient, understanding and non-judgemental; someone who sees potential where others may only see difficulty.

And I have come to realise that finding your own “kampung” is also an important part of success.

My kampung was the people who stood beside me and carried me through the difficult days.

And for my son, apart from his family who always has his back, I believe his kampung is also here at DAS.

It is the teacher who says, “I believe you can do this!”

The teacher who sees his potential when he cannot see it himself.

The teacher who is willing to slow down, try another way, start again, and celebrate the smallest progress.

That one person who believes in a child can make all the difference.

And perhaps that is what educators give our children beyond knowledge and strategies: a kampung — people who believe in them and remind them that they do not have to walk their journey alone.

Looking back, I started this course thinking I needed to learn how to teach my son differently. But along the way, I realised that I needed to learn differently too.

Because sometimes, the person who needs to learn differently isn’t the student. It’s us.

So as we leave here today, I hope we remember that success is rarely achieved alone.

Find your kampung.

And when you do, be part of someone else’s.

Be the teacher, the friend, the parent, the colleague — because all it takes is one person who believes in you.

Thank you.