17th May 2000. It was a day to remember, a day not to be forgotten for the rest of my life. That was the day when I turned sweet sixteen. It was also the last day of school for all of the fifth form students of Broadway School, Birmingham, England and the first day of the GCSE exam. The date marked the end of years of struggle and the beginning of a real battle.

On the same day, there was also a graduation ceremony happening at the school where the students received a leaving certificate and there was also the presentation of awards for best students in each subject area. Amongst the excited group of students, I was one of them.

To be truthful, I was expecting to get one of the awards too as my teacher had told a friend that I would be presented with the Science award. But it turned out that it was someone else from my class that got it. I was hugely disappointed then because I thought that I had worked really hard and my test results, though not the best, were ones of the best. What made it worse was the fact that I was sitting next to my close rival, the cleverest girl in the whole school. The disappointment and frustration I was feeling doubled up when she went up the stage to receive her award. I even had to hold her presents when she went to get her second and third awards! Just imagine that...Towards the end of the ceremony, I couldn't concentrate on what was going on anymore and I gave up the pretension of being happy for my 'neighbour'. I was feeling miserable but I was also accepting the fact that those who had received the awards deserved them. So while the crowd of students clapped and cheered, I knocked off the greediness and selfishness which were building inside and joined in with the crowd.

We never knew that there was such an award as Best Student 2000 so when our Deputy Head Teacher read the profile of the student who was going to receive it, it was quite surprising. However, surprise couldn't even come close to describe what I was feeling, as it was my name that was called out! I walked up the stage to receive the award as memories of the past flooded into my mind. Shamelessly I felt droplets of hot tears sliding down my cheeks. I didn't even hear what was being said to me by the head teacher when he presented me with certificates and presents. The clapping and cheering of the crowd as they chanted my name in unison were also drowned out by my own thoughts of a cheery, talkative girl that used to be me.

Three years ago. Kelantan, Malaysia. I came home from school one day to be told the happy news that my father was granted a scholarship to study overseas. I was excited and joyful and I couldn't wait to go! It was a golden dream, a chance of a lifetime to go abroad and live in a country like England. Snow, "orang putih", school, those were in my mind.

Sadly, I found out that fantasy is rarely a reflection of reality. Although my written English wasn't that bad at the time, my inability at speaking English let me down. I was bullied and laughed at by a gang of students because of my broken English and my Kelantanese accent and I couldn't always understand what people were saying to me. For that reason, they were assuming that I was just plain dumb. School was hell but I braced myself and walked to school everyday with head held high. I hated giving up and I didn't want to disappoint my parents whom I love with all my heart. While walking to school, alone, I would fantasise that there was a new student today. She needed a friend and I would go up to her and make friend with her. We could then share our problems and fears together. What an illusion...That had never happened and I carried on with my life without a person called "friend". There were kind and polite classmates all right, but they didn't really want to be close to me. I mean, who would want to have someone like me as a friend....

After the school session finished, I would go to this beautiful park near my house, sat under an oak tree viewing lovely masses of flowers and cried. I cried and cried, crying my heart out, letting out all the frustration that was trapping me; the anger within me; the sadness that was enveloping me; the loneliness that was killing me; getting rid of them all. I hated my life, my classmates, my school and everything that was happening to me. I wanted to go home.... I wanted to be with my Malaysian friends.... I sobbed. I knew God was listening and so I demanded. Why did you send us here?! What have I done to deserve this?!! Why are you punishing me?!!! There were just no answers.

My parents, who had always been understanding, made me realise that the only way I could gain the respect from the people at my school was by proving to them that I wasn't stupid despite of my spoken English. "There is no such thing as being intelligently gifted. It's all to do with knowing more than others do. If you work hard, set your heart out on your study, that's when the intelligence comes in because you would then possess greater knowledge." Hearing their words, I vowed to be the best student in the whole school. I vowed to change their opinion on me so that they would look up highly and respectfully at me. So I studied hard, day and night. My teachers liked me very much and they said so. I was a hardworking and charming girl, so unlike the majority of the students at the school. They helped me with my work anytime I needed help, be it at lunchtime or after school. Throughout my first year at the school, my grades improved and so was my self-confidence. I started to make friends with some of the girls in my class and was less quiet than I was when I first arrived at the school. Unfortunately, that tiny shred of confidence I had just gained was shattered so cruelly by a single, triggering incident.

It happened one day when a classmate came up to me, pointed a finger on my face and said, "Who do you think you are? You think you're so clever, eh? You can't even speak English properly!" Those words, uttered out of ignorance and immaturity, hurt me so much that it left me bleeding in the inside. Even now, after the wound has healed, I am still scarred, and for eternity. Maybe some of you are thinking that I was just being overly-sensitive and emotional but just imagine being spoken to like a retarded person; like some senseless, brainless creature with no feelings to feel at all, when you were once a bright, bubbly student! Only God knows how much of my self-esteem had been stripped away from me. I felt degraded, worthless, stupid, dumb and the list went on forever.

My friends kept on telling me how good my English was but their words were just cliché, never were registered into my mind. Not trusting them, I believed what the boy had said instead thinking, "They're my friends, of course they would say that but the boy spoke the truth." Even frequently getting the highest exam results in English didn't improve the way I was thinking.

Then, I was introduced to theatre by a teacher who was aware of what was going on with me. It turned out that I had a hidden talent and I was quite good at acting. I soon became quite popular at school for my acting on the stage. It had been easy for me then and it was most probably because it allowed me to express the negative emotions that were raging inside me without having to be myself. It was easier to be someone else. Acting was a tool I used as a getaway from the harsh reality I was facing. Eventually, somehow and inexplicably, acting helped me to understand my own feeling and the person I was. I started accepting the help my friends were offering. This time, it took me much longer to pick up again the pieces of the broken confidence. But I did anyway, with their help and that of my supportive parents and kind teachers. My own self, whom I had lost once, I regained. I picked up the courage to speak out my views as myself, not that of another character I was acting out, indulge myself in debates and contribute my ideas in discussions. I think that I was lucky because I didn't get the chance to turn to drugs, alcohol or food for comfort. Acting had also greatly helped improving my spoken English. It was ironic really that two years later several people said to me that my English accent sounded cute. I just smiled as a reply. Fortunately they didn't think that my accent was sexy, otherwise I would be laughing hysterically and that would be very unladylike...

I continued to work hard in my studies and devoted my time for theatre and now, three years later, 17th May 2000, had been the birthday when I was 'officially' announced my school's best student. The best birthday present I had ever had. My dream had been achieved and my hard work had been paid. Yes, I was very proud to be the best. Who wouldn't? But I was prouder for being a Malaysian amongst these strangers and to receive such a meaningful award. I was also most grateful to God. I believed that it was all a part of His plan for if it wasn't because of my father, my family wouldn't have been here at all and I wouldn't have experienced what I have gone through and become the person I am today. My wise Physics teacher once said to me, "You are the product of your experience"; I couldn't agree more. It is such a true statement.

Thinking back of the experience of studying in a foreign country, it has been a challenging but also wonderful and remarkable three years for me. I believe that there is so much I have learnt and discovered about friendship & respect, about other people and myself. I have met and mixed with the kind of people I had never encountered and I learn to respect their individuality and make them respect my own difference in return. Having gone through a traumatic year of being bullied has taught me to be independent, stronger and determined. Most important of all I learned the vitality of a true friendship. If it wasn't because of the few but loyal friends I had with me, the world would be just unbearable and I wouldn't be able to cope with what life was throwing at me, alone.

As much as I want to go back to Malaysia again, I also know that I am going to miss my friends, my teachers and the school itself. England has been the place where transformation of my own self took place and where there was a discovery of a part, which I never knew before existed. I am going to miss it badly. Nevertheless, Malaysia makes up the main part of my identity. I am a Malay teenager who is proud of her culture and tradition and who is fortunate to still have it and I promise that I will never part with it.

Malaysia; it is what I am and it is where I belong.

By all means, three years of remarkable experience cannot be summarised with just a couple of sentences on a couple of paragraphs. So many things have happened and so many things were learnt. When I come back to Malaysia, it will now be a matter of how I am going to use the knowledge I have gained and the lessons I have been taught. Being just sixteen years old, I am also aware that there are a lot more challenges coming in the years ahead and I shall welcome them with the transformed person I am.

Written by: I. Abdullah, Birmingham, England
Editor: Student.Com.my Editorial Team

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