Letting Go While Holding On: A Parent’s Reflection on My Daughter’s First Year in Independent Secondary School

As the world steps into a new year, my daughter steps into a new chapter of her life—starting Form 1 at an independent secondary school. New uniform designs, new teachers, new friends, and a completely new environment now shape her daily routine. For her, it is a fresh beginning. For me, it is a quiet lesson in learning how to let go.

Choosing an Independent Secondary School

We have had our eyes on this school for several years. The decision was not made lightly. Like many parents, we considered one fundamental question: how do we best protect and prepare our child’s future?

This is not to say that government schools are bad. In fact, their low—or even zero—school fees have played an essential role in ensuring that generations of children can read, write, and count. That alone is a remarkable achievement. However, the independent school our daughter attends aims for more than the basics. Its focus extends to discipline, social development, employability, and academic excellence.

One example stood out during parental briefings last year. The school principal spoke openly about existing disciplinary cases. That honesty mattered. It showed a willingness to work together with parents instead of sweeping issues under the carpet to protect appearances. In contrast, disciplinary matters in many public schools are often quietly handled to preserve the image of the education system.

Another striking difference lies in preparation for the future. While this independent school has already begun arranging schedules for students to learn about artificial intelligence and emerging technologies, the state education department is still at the discussion stage with overseas counterparts. Worse still, many public schools continue to lack basic facilities such as stable internet access and adequate computers.

These are uncomfortable truths, but they are realities.

Environment Matters More Than We Admit

There is a saying: “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” While it sounds harsh, there is some truth in it. A child’s environment inevitably shapes their mindset.

My daughter’s previous social circle largely shared the belief that being mediocre was “good enough.” In contrast, many students in her new school come from families involved in business or professional fields. I sincerely hope that this environment will broaden her horizons, challenge her thinking, and encourage her to aim higher—not out of pressure, but out of possibility.

The Emotional Cost of Transition

During the school briefings, parents were warned that the transition would be deeply felt by Form 1 students. Emotional struggles such as withdrawal, anger, or even depression could surface. Hearing this as a parent to an only child was painful. Knowing that she would need to work harder—academically, socially, emotionally—made my heart ache.

The reality hit quickly.

In her first week, heavy morning traffic meant she arrived at school at 6:55 a.m. On two consecutive days, she skipped breakfast entirely because arriving after 7:10 a.m. would result in demerit points. Her school day runs from 7:10 a.m. until 3:30 p.m., almost every day from Monday to Saturday. The discipline is strict, and personal leave itself carries demerits.

Crowded Classrooms and Real-World Exposure

Despite parents paying several hundred ringgit per month, class sizes can reach up to 50 students. Naturally, this raises concerns about comfort and individual attention. The school justified this by explaining that society itself is crowded and diverse, and early exposure to different personalities prepares students for the real world.

I remain somewhat sceptical, but I cannot entirely dispute the logic.

Parenting Then and Now

I often reflect on my own childhood. I once walked home alone from school because the school bus did not pick me up, and I had no way to call home. Looking back, I am amazed that I made it home safely.

Yet today, I find myself worrying whether my daughter can cross three small roads from school to the car park by herself—even though I see hundreds of students, including Form 1 students, doing it just fine.

Yesterday marked another milestone. We left her and a friend of the same age alone at a shopping mall from 1 p.m. to 5 p.m. I was anxious. She used to fear escalators, gripping my hand tightly and wobbling as they moved. I would always stand behind her for protection.

But she managed. She was fine.

Fear, Faith, and Letting Go

With constant news about kidnappings and unfortunate incidents involving young people, fear quietly grows in a parent’s heart. I do not know how other millennial parents cope with it. For me, the only thing I can do is pray—daily—for her safety, her wisdom, and her courage.

This journey is not just about her learning independence. It is also about me learning trust. Trust in her. Trust in the choices we made. And trust that growth, though uncomfortable, is necessary for both parent and child.