Travel, they say, broadens the mind. But parenthood? That’s a six-year expedition into the uncharted territory of your own heart.
Last Saturday, I found myself at a major landmark on this journey: the Whampoa Community Club. The event wasn't a high-stakes business conference or a travel seminar. It was the PCF Sparkletots (Whampoa) graduation concert for the six-year-olds.
My daughter, my little girl who just yesterday was figuring out how to hold a spoon, was one of the 90-odd graduates on that stage.
The theme for the day was "The More we Kueh Together," and as I sat there, fumbling with my phone camera, I realised just how profound that simple, sweet, and wonderfully Singaporean phrase really is. This isn't just a concert; it's a "rest stop" on the parenting journey, a place to look back at the map of the last six years and marvel at how far you've come.
The Six-Year Blur: From First Steps to a Mortarboard
As a father, you tend to view time in practical blocks. "Need to buy new shoes," "Time to sign up for school," "Is that fever ever going to break?" You're focused on the logistics of the trip, not the scenery.
Then, you're suddenly sitting in a community club hall, watching your child in a tiny graduation gown, and the entire six-year montage hits you like a tidal wave.
You remember the first day you dropped them off at infant care, the anxiety (mostly yours), the tears (definitely yours), and the sheer miracle of finding teachers who would care for your child like their own.
The "Village" That is PCF Whampoa
We often hear it "takes a village," but in the HDB heartlands, this isn't a cliché; it's a functional blueprint. For six years, the teachers and lao shis at PCF Sparkletots Whampoa have been our co-pilots.
They were the ones who navigated the 'why' phase. They taught her how to write her name, how to share, and, perhaps most importantly, how to be a kind human. You send them in as toddlers, and PCF gives you back these small, thoughtful people who can suddenly explain the life cycle of a butterfly. That, right there, is real value.
A Symphony of Small Costumes and Big Hearts
The concert itself was a beautiful, organised, and joyful chaos. As someone who appreciates a well-run operation, I have to tip my hat. Getting 90 six-year-olds to perform in sync is a logistical feat worthy of an award.
"Kueh" in Action
The "The More we Kueh Together" theme was woven into every performance. We saw dances representing the rich, multi-coloured layers of our local culture. Each class, like a different kueh, brought its own flavour—some were sweet and shy (like kueh lapis), others were bright and energetic (like ondeh-ondeh).
My daughter’s class performed a high-energy dance. I saw her on stage, radiating a confidence that I certainly didn't possess at her age. She wasn't just dancing; she was beaming, sharing a moment of pure, unadulterated joy with her friends.
A Community Affair
It felt right to have this milestone celebrated at the Whampoa Community Club, the literal heart of the neighbourhood. The presence of Mr. Shawn Loh, the Guest of Honour and adviser for Jalan Besar GRC, underscored the point: this wasn't just a school event; it was a community one. We were all in it together—parents, teachers, and community leaders—celebrating this new generation.
Finding the 'Real Value' in the Graduation Gown
As the concert ended and my daughter ran into my arms, clutching her little graduation certificate, I finally understood the "real value" of the day.
It's Not the Certificate, It's the Confidence
The piece of paper is nice. But the real takeaway is the invisible toolkit she's carrying with her to Primary 1. It’s the confidence to stand on a stage, the curiosity to ask questions, and the social grace to make new friends. The "academic" part is important, but the resilience is priceless.
The "Kueh" We Built as Parents
I looked around at the other parents, all snapping photos, wiping away quiet tears, and cheering wildly. We are a diverse bunch, from all walks of life, just like the kueh-mueh at a breakfast stall. We’ve been nodding to each other at the school gates for years. Today, we were a cohort, a community, bound by this shared, bittersweet milestone. We had "Kueh-ed" together, too.
The End of the First Chapter
Six years. It's the end of the first, simplest chapter of her life. The journey ahead to P1 and beyond will be more complex, with new challenges.
But as we walked out of the hall on 8 November 2025, I felt an immense sense of peace. The "village" did its job. My daughter is ready.
And as for me? I'm just a dad, a humble travel companion on her incredible journey, feeling profoundly grateful for this "stopover" and the amazing view.
Your Graduation Questions, Answered
A quick Q&A for parents approaching this milestone.
What is a PCF Sparkletots graduation concert actually like?
Think of it as 90% joy and 10% heartfelt chaos. It's a wonderful, non-competitive celebration of the children's hard work. You'll see energetic dances, hear endearing songs (in multiple languages!), and witness the proudest "I did it!" faces on the kids. It’s less about perfect performance and more about pure celebration.
I'm a new parent. Why is this 'milestone' such a big deal?
On the surface, it's just a concert. But emotionally, it’s the first major "finish line" in your child's life. It marks the definitive end of the "baby/toddler" phase and the beginning of their formal schooling journey. It’s a moment to pause and appreciate just how much they (and you) have grown in those first six years.
What was the highlight of the "The More we Kueh together" concert?
For me, it wasn't just one performance. It was the collective spirit. The "Kueh" theme was a perfect metaphor for Singapore—many different pieces, flavours, and colours coming together to create something wonderful. The highlight was seeing that metaphor come to life on stage, with 90 children from all backgrounds celebrating as one.
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