The Samara of Our Tualang Tree

There are beginnings marked by form and ceremony. And there are beginnings that arise more quietly—almost imperceptibly—like a seed in flight, finding its root beneath the soil.

This is one of those beginnings.

I have long felt that the very first entry of our school blog should be a tribute—to the seventeen members of the Samara Tualang School Founding Circle: parents, teachers, and administrators.

Because this may be one of the very few places where this circle is named. From the very beginning, this circle chose a different path—a path of renunciation, not as loss, but as offering.

We chose to found a school, but not to own it. To build, to hold, and then to step back into the circle as equals once more. To surrender it to a living process, to the life of the community, to the ideals of a threefold society, to the generations beyond us—and, perhaps most of all, to the quiet workings of the universe.

Like any parent who brings a child into the world: the children come through us, but they are not ours to own. They carry their own destiny. This school is no different.

What we did was not an act of nobility, nor one of ego. If anything, it was an act of faith.

A quiet trust that this is not only our making. That we are not the sole authors of what is unfolding. That, in many ways, we are only responding to something already in motion—something that does not belong to us, but to which we belong.

In that recognition, there is both humility and gratitude. And truly, we are blessed.

In less than four months, a school was born. It felt fast—almost abrupt. And yet, at the same time, strangely, as if it was meant to be.

Even now, another four months later, it feels as though this has been a long time coming—as if the longing for it had lived quietly within us long before it found form.

Perhaps that is why I cannot point to a single, clear “first moment.” There was no one gathering where we declared: let us found a school.

Instead, each of us arrived at our own threshold—from different biographies—and somehow, we met one another in something shared.

Shared values.

A school of integrity, trust, and freedom.

Where integrity is not only honesty with others, but honesty with oneself—where it is not situational, but lived.

Where trust is not only about holding on, but also about letting go—trust in one another, and trust in something larger than ourselves.

Where freedom is not the absence of form, but something that arises through accountability and striving—a true freedom that comes from being free from oneself.

We believed that a Steiner school can truly thrive when held in service—when it exists not for profit, but for purpose. That financial health matters deeply—but only because what is generated must return again to the children, to the school, and to the future it is meant to serve.

And so, we gave everything we had. We poured ourselves out so fully that it left us emptied. Perhaps because of that, it all felt surreal. Perhaps only later, looking back, do fragments return and begin to fill us once more.

Late nights where one role became many. Conversations in borrowed spaces, before there was anywhere to call our own. Decisions that tested our resolve—where integrity stood against convenience. Quiet moments of solitude—where truth was not spoken, but held inwardly and carried through. Tears in the lightest moments. Laughter in the hardest ones.

How did we come together exactly?

I still cannot fully say. Only that we did.

And now, this school stands—still young, still becoming—but undeniably alive.

So on behalf of the school, to the seventeen of us—each equally held, named without hierarchy:

Agnes Tan Ai Nee
Athena Tan Yi Hui
Charmaine Cheah Wan Qian
Danny Chan Tzu Zhung
Deenie Goon
Fong Yuk Ching
Hue Yoke Ting
Jacey Yap Jia Chi
Khoo Mei Yee
Lalida Visetrat
Loke Yong Ping
Loy Seng Kit
Ronnie Goon
Rosalind Foo
Soo May Shin
So Soon Yuan
Wong Chyi Tsuey

Thank you.

If this school is to live beyond all of us, as we hope it will, may we not seek to be remembered, but may we remember—

that our founding is not only an outer act, but an inner one.

That once, we were the samara—
the winged seeds—
of our Tualang tree.

Written by Qian
1 May 2026
Eight months since the formation of the Samara Tualang School Founding Circle