Born into a traditional middle-class Chinese-Thai family with seven members—being the youngest of five siblings—my life was scripted by old-school expectations. My father, shaped by a generation where success meant following in the footsteps of my grandfather who built a small family business 80 years ago. With his 4th-grade education, he firmly believed one thing: “My kids don’t need a high education.“
Because of this mindset, I never went to a good school. Combined with my own teenage laziness and lack of direction, my academic record was a disaster. I failed every single major entrance exam—elementary grade, middle school, and high school.
Amidst the doubt, there was one warrior: My mother. She fought relentlessly against my father’s rigid views just to secure a decent education for us. As a naive child, I didn’t appreciate the depth of her sacrifices. Not back then.
..
The turning point came when I enrolled at ACC for vocational school.
That was the moment I finally woke up. I saw the quiet heartbreak in my mother’s eyes when my failure forced her to scramble and beg the school to take me in. That guilt transformed into my greatest motivation.
For three years at ACC, my grades climbed steadily. In my final year, my Voc. 1 homeroom teacher suggested, “Why don’t you apply to Mahidol University International College or Thammasat International Business School?”
For the first time in my life, I passed both. I chose Mahidol because of my burning passion for computer science.
..
Then reality struck hard. My childhood academic neglect came back to haunt me. I had zero foundation. While I loved tech, my math and physics were abysmal, and my English was clunky compared to peers who grew up in international schools or spent years as exchange students.
There was a moment I really quitted computer science altogether.
But my mother said, “Fight through it.“
And fight I did, with my mother standing firmly by my side through every sleepless night.
Because my starting line was miles behind everyone else’s, I didn’t have the luxury of walking. I had to sprint, pushing myself infinitely harder just to keep up.
I reviewed my studies religiously every single day, pouring several hours into books. In some subjects, I understood the material so deeply that I could recall it effortlessly without even trying to memorize it. In others, I cracked the code and found my own learning shortcuts. In the Theory of Computation, I practiced problems so relentlessly that I actually caught errors in the textbook that had gone through multiple editions, even proving them to my professor.
Some of my friends jokingly said that I didn’t just read the books… I had literally “swallowed them whole.”
..
Four grueling years later, I graduated with a degree in Computer Science—and First-Class Honors.
My mother was ecstatic. I was the first child in the family to graduate with honors, earning a degree from a prestigious university where degrees are conferred by royalty.
..
Life is never easy, and it always seems to test us with unexpected obstacles and people who try to break us.
As if life hadn’t tested me enough, hardship struck twice: my right hand—my dominant hand—suffered an injury. I had to relearn how to write from scratch using my left hand, mastering most daily life with one hand. The relearning process took me 5 years.
I survived it. Well, at least, I could say that I have survived for half of my life at the time of writing this blog.
..
After earning my bachelor’s degree, my mother desperately wanted me to study abroad, just like my older siblings had.
Of course, we didn’t have the funds. The tuition was far beyond what my father could afford on his own, which meant we had to rely on financial support from the family estate—the Gongsi.
The catch? I had a bitter fallout with someone within the family circle, leading to a crushing, unforgettable verdict hurled right at my face:
“I will never let you study abroad. Your future ends right here.”
To make matters infinitely worse, my mother was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer. I couldn’t bear the thought of being away from her during such a critical time, so I decided to put my overseas dreams on hold just to stay as close to her as possible through those difficult days.
..
But the deepest sorrow I carry is this: My mother didn’t live long enough to see the fruit of her sacrifices today.
Less than two years after my graduation day, my mother passed away.
Even though she is no longer here to witness it, every single success I achieve today belongs entirely to her. Thank you, Mom, for being the wind beneath my wings, lifting this broken-winged child higher than he ever dared to dream. And thank you, Dad—despite your rigid, old-school ways, you ultimately opened your heart and supported my education.
I know with all my heart that you are proud of your youngest child.
..
✨ If you feel like an underdog today, remember this: your starting line doesn’t define your finish line. Keep fighting.
..
…
….
(Epilogue) For those wondering how that chapter ended…
Three years after my mother’s passing, I chose to pursue my master’s degree right here in Thailand, fully believing that would be the final chapter of my formal education. Yet, deep down, I silently harbored one burning wish: if I were ever to step foot abroad, I wanted to do it with the ultimate pride of being a fully funded scholar—earning it entirely through my own sweat and hard work.
