For me, school has been a journey of struggles, heartbreak and determination. It shaped how I study and how I see myself in the country I was born in – yet still feel like an outsider. Like many refugee students in Malaysia, education often feels like a privilege just out of reach.
Government schools are closed to us, so we rely on community learning centres and private schools. Sadly, their certificates aren’t recognized like Malaysia’s national SPM exam. This denies us a basic right every child is born with – the right to learn and be treated fairly.
My student life begins
Like many children, my first day of school was full of excitement. At five, I attended PASTI, an Islamic early childhood education centre, where I learned to read and write. Later, I continued in a private school for six years preparing for UPSR.
Everything seemed fine until my final year. That was when I learned I couldn’t sit for the UPSR because of my refugee status. My heart broke. All my hard work seemed wasted.
I remember going home that day in silence, holding back tears, wondering why something as simple as taking an exam could feel impossible.
That moment changed me. I refused to give up. And I looked for other ways.
Chasing dreams despite barriers
Through persistence (and luck), I met a kind local YB who helped me register as a private SPM candidate.
During that time, I became friends with his son, who was my age. We studied together and encouraged each other. For once, I felt like just any other student – not a refugee.
From Form 1 to Form 5, I studied mostly on my own, using YouTube and tuition classes run by dedicated SPM teachers. It wasn’t easy, but I learned to rely on discipline and faith.
Finally, the big day came. I sat for SPM with both fear and hope. When the results were released months later, I achieved one of my proudest moments. I scored 7As. That day proved that refugee students in Malaysia can succeed when given a fair chance.
The struggles of refugee students in Malaysia
After SPM, I chose to continue with STPM. This has been an even greater challenge. STPM demands advanced critical thinking, consistency, and long hours of study.
I spend nights revising, watching online lectures, and discussing topics with classmates.
But deep down, I carry a quiet worry. Even with good results, my future feels uncertain. Refugee students can’t easily enter public universities, and private ones cost too much for most of our families.
My dream is to become a doctor. I want to help people, especially those who can’t afford healthcare. But with all these barriers, that dream sometimes feels far away. Still, I hold onto it because it gives me purpose.
A hope for tomorrow
My journey has taught me that determination alone isn’t enough – but it’s a start.
I’ve seen many other refugee students who work just as hard, yet their efforts go unnoticed. Many of my friends never got the chance to sit for national exams, even though they were bright and hardworking.
If more doors opened, I believe we could all contribute to Malaysia – just like any other youth. We have dreams, goals, and the will to succeed.
I hope one day, education in Malaysia will be open to everyone, regardless of background or status. That day, refugee students won’t have to fight so hard for the simple right to learn.
After all, my dreams are no different than yours: to study hard, to make my parents proud, and build a better future.
