I was 19 when I first stepped into special education.
At that age, I did not think about leadership in a serious way. I thought leadership belonged to people much older than me, people with years of experience, big job titles, and lots of confidence. I certainly did not expect to learn about it in a classroom, surrounded by young children with developmental needs.
But over the past year and a half, working as an Assistant Special Education Teacher at Bridging the Gap has completely changed how I think about leadership, growth, and what it means to support people well.
Some of the most important lessons I have learned did not come from formal training. They came from everyday moments. Sitting beside a child who was crying but could not explain why. Helping a child regulate after becoming overwhelmed. Watching how trust is built slowly, through consistency, patience, and showing up again and again.
Those moments taught me that leadership is not always loud or visible. Sometimes, it looks like staying calm when someone else cannot. Sometimes, it means paying attention to what is not being said. Sometimes, it is about putting your own emotions aside so you can respond to another person with care.
One of the biggest things this work has taught me is that behaviour is communication.
Before entering this field, I think I saw behaviour the way many people do. If someone was acting out, I might have thought they were being difficult, stubborn, or refusing to cooperate. But working with children in early intervention has taught me to pause and look deeper.
Very often, behaviour is not just behaviour. It is a sign that something else is going on. A child may be overwhelmed, frustrated, confused, tired, or unable to express what they need. Once I started seeing behaviour this way, it changed how I responded. Instead of reacting to the surface, I learned to ask myself: What is this child trying to tell me?
That mindset has stayed with me beyond the classroom. It has made me more observant, more patient, and slower to judge. I have realised that this applies to adults too. People do not always say exactly what they are feeling. Sometimes stress, fear, or frustration comes out in other ways. Learning to look beneath the surface is something I now see as a very important part of leadership.
This work has also taught me that being calm is powerful.
There have been moments when a child was in distress, and the whole environment felt tense. In those situations, I cannot just focus on what to do next. I also have to manage myself. Children can sense when the adults around them are anxious or unsettled. If I panic, even internally, it affects how I show up for them.
I have learned that staying calm is not about pretending everything is fine. It is about being steady enough for someone else to feel safe. It is about regulating myself first, so I can help another person regulate, too.
I think this is one of the most underrated forms of leadership. People often imagine leaders as people who always have the answers. But in my experience, some of the strongest leadership happens when you become a steady presence in a difficult moment. You may not solve everything immediately, but your calmness can create the space for things to settle and move forward.
Another lesson I have learned is to value small progress.
In early intervention, change does not always happen quickly. Progress can be very gradual, and sometimes it is only visible when you look back. A child making eye contact more consistently. A child following a routine with less support. A child using a new word for the first time. These may seem like small things from the outside, but they are not small to the child, to the family, or to the people who have been supporting them.
Working in this space has taught me to notice and celebrate these moments. It has taught me that meaningful work is often built through consistency, not instant results. You keep showing up, keep trying, keep adjusting, and over time, something shifts.
I think this matters in leadership, too. Not all progress is dramatic. Not everything meaningful comes with recognition or immediate results. Sometimes growth is quiet. Sometimes the real work is in the daily effort that nobody sees.
At 20, I am still learning every day. I do not claim to know everything about leadership, and I still have a lot of growing to do. But I do know that special education has shaped me in ways I did not expect.
It has taught me to listen more carefully. To be more patient. To manage pressure better. To look beyond what is obvious. To understand that trust takes time. And to remember that real impact is often built in small moments that others may overlook.
Most of all, it has taught me that leadership is not defined only by age, title, or authority. It can start much earlier than people think. It starts in the way you treat others. In how you respond when things are difficult. In whether you are willing to keep showing up with care, even when progress is slow.
For me, that is what special education taught me about leadership before I turned 21.
About the author
Wong Yi Ning Eilyn is an Assistant Special Education Teacher at Bridging the Gap in Singapore and is currently completing a Work-Study Diploma in Community Engagement & Development through ITE.
