From Graduate to Educator: My UTM Convocation Story

The First Two Convocations

Walking into Dewan Sultan Iskandar (DSI) this morning felt strangely familiar, yet completely new. I’ve entered this hall before — twice, in fact — but never like this. Not as staff. Not as an academic standing quietly at the side, watching hundreds of students step into their biggest moment so far.

There’s a certain electricity that fills the hall during convocation. It isn’t loud. It isn’t chaotic. But it sits in the air like a living thing — a mixture of hope, relief, and unspoken stories. And as I stood there, I realized just how much this hall has witnessed my own story, too.

I graduated here for the first time in November 2015 with my Master of Education. I still remember how hard my heart pounded when I saw my parents in the crowd, and how that one scroll felt like a reward for every late-night struggle I never told anyone about. Ten years later, in November 2024, I walked across the same stage again — holding a PhD, carrying a completely different kind of gratitude. Two different milestones, two different versions of myself, but the same hall that held both my ambitions and my uncertainties.

Walking Into Convocation (as an Academic Staff)

Coming back as a UTM academician made everything feel strangely full circle.

As I watched the graduates line up, I found myself thinking back to 2015, when I left the comfort of my classroom and became an Assistant Director at the Johor Education Department. It was a world I never planned for, but one I needed. I travelled, I learned, I struggled, and I grew. That chapter stretched my understanding of what education really is. It showed me that improving a system can be just as meaningful as inspiring a single student.

And now, standing in the same hall where I once waited anxiously for my name to be called, I felt the weight — and privilege — of returning as an academic. It’s different. There is a different robe on my shoulder (more fancy, I think), but no scroll in my hand. But there is a sense of purpose that is stronger than anything I felt before.

Watching the graduates walk proudly across the stage reminded me how every convocation is more than a ceremony. Behind every smile is a story — the late-night worries, the financial juggling, the fear of failing, the stubbornness to keep going. I saw pieces of myself in them, both the 2015 version and the 2024 version. And perhaps that’s why their joy hit me so deeply. I know how heavy that scroll can feel when you’ve fought hard for it.

Being here made me think about what it means to guide students now. Not just through assignments or lectures, but through the quieter battles they never announce. It reminded me why this profession matters, and why I still believe in the transformative power of education — not just as a system, but as a deeply personal journey.

The hall hasn’t changed. The stage is the same. The lighting is the same. Even the seats look exactly like they did when I first sat there a decade ago.

But I’m not the same person who walked in with a master’s robe in 2015.
And I’m not even the same person who received a PhD scroll in 2024.

Today, I walked in as something else entirely — an educator shaped by classrooms, by state offices, by late-night thesis drafts, and ultimately, by the best path that Allah granted along the journey, which I never thought of.

Maybe that’s what returning to a familiar place does. It shows you how far you’ve come.

And for me, that realization began the moment I stepped into DSI. And once again in future, insya Allah.