The Small Wonders That Make Us Whole

By Kin Weng Ieong

On March 18, 2025, our class gathered for what was, on paper, a graduation and birthday lunch. But looking back now, it was so much more than that.

Yes, we were celebrating the achievements of our graduating classmates. Yes, we were marking the birthdays of two of our well-loved teachers. But what stood out to me the most wasn’t the certificates or the speeches—it was the quiet details. The little things that often go unnoticed but mean everything.

When we entered the room that day, it was like walking into a place that had been touched with care. Tables lined with white cloth, little handmade decorations placed thoughtfully, and food laid out with love—not just for show, not just for photos, but because that’s who we are. We are future Diversional and Recreational Therapists. We are people who create spaces where others feel safe, seen, and celebrated. That room was a living example of our purpose.

Sir AJ opened the event with a Karakia—a traditional Māori prayer—which grounded us in a sense of spiritual unity. It wasn’t just a formality. It reminded us that what we do, and what we are becoming, is deeply rooted in connection. The CEO’s speech came next, full of pride and hope followed with heartfelt thanks and warm birthday wishes. The cakes were cut, the songs were sung, and there were so many smiles—but again, what stuck with me were the quiet moments in between. The way someone passed a plate to another with a smile, the effort people made to make sure everyone felt included, the joy in simple conversations over pizza and then some.

Seeing our classmates walk up and receive their certificates was a proud moment for all of us. But it wasn’t just the milestone—it was the journey behind it. The early mornings, the nervous presentations, the group projects, the moments of self-doubt that turned into belief. That’s what we were really celebrating.

I think sometimes we’re so focused on the big moments—the achievements, the recognition—that we forget it’s the small wonders that shape us. The time someone offered you a ride when it was raining. The classmate who encouraged you when you were ready to give up. The shared laughter after a long day. That’s what builds us.

As a migrant student, these moments mean even more. Being far from home, it’s the little things that become your anchors. And on that day, surrounded by classmates and teachers who’ve become my second family, I realised that I wasn’t just learning how to be a DRT—I was already living it.

Because Diversional and Recreational Therapy isn’t just a job. It’s a way of seeing the world. It’s the decision to care deeply, to create joy, and to make even ordinary moments feel extraordinary.

And that day? It reminded me that we’re on the right path. Together.