Graduation from University

The decision to take a break from service (in the Navy) was a difficult one.

At the time, my wife — who was my girlfriend back then — was about to leave for Brisbane to study, after a year of dating. Around that period, I already had multiple thoughts of furthering my studies through a scholarship application during service. And because I could genuinely see myself marrying her, I started looking at what my options were if I wanted to study and still do right by the relationship.

Due to some hiccups with HR, I was only presented with two options:

1. Wait for my bond to end (one semester later) to join my wife when she was about 75% through uni, or
2. Take no-pay leave and join her at her 50% mark (which would entail a minimum two-year service period bond)

Having experienced the hardship of long-distance relationships before, I decided to stick to my gut and take no-pay leave to make it work better for us. And honestly, it was a decision that changed my life.

Not only did I learn to live with my now wife, I also gained a lot of confidence through my performance in university.

I always had confidence in myself — but because I graduated from polytechnic with a pretty shit GPA, I carried this quiet insecurity for years. I often saw my officers as people on a higher pedestal than myself. It affected how I showed up: I questioned my judgement more than I should have, held back suggestions, and sometimes stayed quiet even when I knew something wasn’t right.

University changed that.

I did a Bachelor of Science in Information Technology, majoring in Computer Science. I made Dean’s List (Award of Academic Excellence) for three out of four semesters, scored only Distinctions or High Distinctions, and graduated with a GPA of 6.438.

But more important than the grades was what it did to my self-belief. It was proof — to myself — that I wasn’t “less than”. Not less intelligent. Not less capable. Not someone who should only speak when spoken to. It gave me a solid foundation to stand on.

When I re-entered service, I could feel it almost immediately: my confidence and work ethic increased a lot. I was sharper in my judgements, more willing to hold my ground, and more willing to challenge on a level playing field.

I became more meticulous. I questioned more of the “why”. I tried to improve workflows — not just for myself, but for the people around me too. And I can imagine it wasn’t always easy for the officers onboard to have someone like me constantly pointing out flaws or challenging decisions. But none of it came from ego. It came from a genuine desire to make things better — to improve work processes and life onboard for the crew.

I also learned how to challenge decisions I felt were wrong while still providing perspective and logical reasoning on why we should do things differently. That balance matters. Anyone can complain. But it takes maturity to challenge with clarity, and with the team’s interest at heart.

That being said, university didn’t remove my humility for learning.

If anything, it reminded me that academic knowledge and real operational experience are not the same thing. I continued to absorb lessons from much more experienced flot experts and coxswains, trying to close the gap between what I knew on paper and what the job demanded in practice. There were soft skills, habits, and military-specific ways of doing things that I still had to learn — and keep learning.

Even presentations are nothing alike.

In university and the tech space, presentations are usually carried verbally — like teaching or educating. The slides support the speaker. But for most operational presentations, the expectation is often that slides are pre-read, and the audience comes prepared with questions or to catch mistakes. That’s why there’s a preference for content-heavy decks. It’s a different culture, and it serves a different purpose.

Now that I’ve been through the leadership phase of my Intermediate Specialisation Course (a course that prepares you to be a supervisor onboard Singapore Navy ships), I can honestly say there’s been a lot to take away.

Even with the suboptimal schedule — due to organisational constraints where manpower demand and supply have to meet — the course still offered a lot, if you showed up with grit and commitment. It reinforced something I’ve been learning slowly over time: even imperfect environments can produce strong outcomes, but only if the individual decides to squeeze the value out of it.

My perspective on leadership has shifted a lot. I’ve been inspired — not just by what leadership should look like, but by what it actually takes day-to-day: patience, consistency, emotional control, accountability, and the ability to carry people while still holding standards.

It’s obvious this course will not churn out Lee Kuan Yew-level leaders. But for people with the right attitude and mindset, it equips you with tools and frameworks that genuinely help you navigate difficult leadership situations — and it broadens your perspective on why certain things have to be the way they are.

One thing I’ve come to believe even more strongly is that leadership goes far beyond the appointment, position, or role.

I felt this even as an operator onboard my ship. As the Quartermaster IC (an “unofficial” leadership appointment), I focused on balancing a relationship where I not only led by example, but also groomed my juniors in the principles and methodologies I practised to make things work.

At the end of the day, most military organisations revolve around understanding people’s needs and motivations. And if you can’t lead people, you can’t lead anything.

That also meant being honest about mistakes.

I’ve realised that at times, I let people take their learning process too independently. I didn’t involve myself and guide them enough when it came to the theory and knowledge portion of being a quartermaster. I assumed they would figure it out the same way I did — but not everyone learns the same way, and not everyone needs the same type of guidance. That’s something I’ll carry with me as I move into a supervisory role: independence is good, but supported independence is better.

I’m also fortunate to have crossed paths with many great leaders who have influenced me and shaped my character in the RSN and SAF. To name a few: ME4 Finley, ME5 Foo Chang Xiong, ME4 Tan Chee Wei, ME2 Dean Lee Chin Ray, LTC Lin Dian Xue, and more recently ME3 Chia Jia Rong and LTC Jonathan Liu.

Moving forward, I look forward to whatever this career has in store for me.

Being in the Navy is a career chosen out of passion. And as difficult or frustrating as it can be, I’ve never once regretted it or wanted to leave. I hold the work close to my heart. Working with people who feel like family is something you truly can’t get anywhere else.

And watching the people you led transition into leaders — and change for the better — is something money cannot buy.

In the end, taking that break from service taught me something I didn’t fully understand back then: priorities aren’t just what you say matters — they’re what you’re willing to sacrifice for. It forced me to confront my identity beyond uniform and appointment, and to realise that being committed isn’t limited to the Navy alone. Commitment is showing up where it counts — for the people you love, for the promises you make, and for the life you’re trying to build. And strangely enough, stepping away for a season didn’t weaken my sense of purpose in service — it clarified it.