By Thugipa Thurendiran, Content Team contributor.

People keep asking me whether I’m excited to start my Master’s. I always say yes, because of course I am. I’ll be starting a new chapter in my life, training to become a primary school teacher. But alongside the excitement comes something that’s accompanied many of my own new beginnings: uncertainty. 

When I think back to September 2022, I can still picture my first lecture at university. I remember arriving far too early because I’d rather wait outside than risk being late. I remember scanning the room, wondering where to sit, convincing myself that everyone else looked like they knew exactly what they were doing, when in reality, we were all in the same boat. Looking back, finding my seat turned out to be the easy part. 

As the year went on, university brought a different kind of challenge: presentations. Although they were a regular part of university life, presentations quickly became something I dreaded. By my second year, that fear had grown into something more difficult to manage. After one in particular, I experienced a panic attack and was later diagnosed with anxiety. For a while, standing at the front of a room became something I associated with fear. 

Then came another new start. Shortly after my second year, I moved to Singapore for my year abroad. Everything felt unfamiliar at first: the city, the campus, the people, even the way we were taught. By the time classes started, presentations were still the part of university I feared most. Ironically, I was about to join a course where almost every module involved one, meaning there was no avoiding them.  

At first, it felt as though nothing had changed – I still felt nervous before every presentation and I still rehearsed what I wanted to say to avoid making mistakes. However, the difference was that I kept doing it. With each one, the fear became a little less overwhelming, and the room at the front of the class became a place I was slowly learning to feel comfortable in. Looking back now, that year became one of the most rewarding experiences of my degree because it showed me I was capable of doing things I once thought I couldn’t. 

Now I’m standing at another beginning. In a few weeks, I’ll graduate, and not long after, I’ll be walking into another classroom as a Master’s student. Sometimes it still surprises me that I’ve chosen a profession built around standing at the front of a room. A few years ago, I couldn’t have imagined that. 

There is no doubt that September will have moments where I question myself, just as I have before every new beginning. But I’ve also learnt that those moments are temporary, and the unfamiliar eventually becomes familiar. The room that once felt intimidating slowly becomes somewhere you belong. For me, that’s what starting anew has come to mean. It’s rarely comfortable, and it almost always arrives with a few ‘what ifs’. As I prepare to step into yet another classroom, I carry with me something the past few years have shown me: you don’t have to feel completely ready to take the first step.