When I got the email confirming that my paper had been accepted for presentation at the Thailand International Conference on Education Research (TaICER 2025), my heart skipped a beat. At first, I was excited. Then the doubts started creeping in. I even consulted one of my professors about what I should do.

Can I do this?

What if my presentation isn’t good enough?

What if I stand there, forget my lines, and embarrass myself?

As a Filipino student studying at Universitas Islam Internasional Indonesia, this would be my first time presenting internationally. The conference theme, “The Education for the Future”, sounded big and visionary — and I wasn’t sure if my voice belonged there. But at some point, I told myself: It’s now or never.

I raised my concern with my former mentor during my undergraduate studies, as he knows me well from years as his student. His words of motivation fueled my interest to step out of the box. On August 6, I flew from Jakarta to Bangkok. It was more than just a trip — it felt like crossing a bridge from my comfort zone into the unknown. The moment I stepped into the Asawin Grand Convention Hotel, I felt the weight of the event. Scholars, educators, and researchers worldwide were there, speaking confidently in the lobby, exchanging ideas, and setting up for their sessions. I looked around and realized — I was the only Filipino presenter.

The first day was packed with sessions and keynote speeches. I listened to experts talk about transforming education, the power of technology in the classroom, and the need for global cooperation. Their passion was inspiring, but it also made my nervousness worse. Am I ready to stand among them? When my presentation slot came, my heart raced. I walked to the front and greeted the audience, but my hands felt cold momentarily. But then I remembered why I was there. I spoke about my research with sincerity, telling the stories behind my findings and why they mattered. Slowly, my nerves faded, replaced by a steady rhythm. By the time I finished, I could see nods from the audience — and I knew I had done my part.

The conference wasn’t just about presenting; it was also about connecting. I met Sir François Staring, an OECD policy analyst whose work on education policy gave me a fresh perspective on my study. I conversed with people from SEAMEO SEA-TEP, representing Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, Cambodia, and Kazakhstan. I even met Dr Murni Ramli, from Universitas Sebelas Maret, whose energy and ideas were contagious.

One of my favorite moments happened during a coffee break. I was chatting with Dr Wahyudi, Director SEAMEO SEAMOLEC, Jakarta, Indonesia, and his words stuck with me. I realized that the journey in academia is not about proving yourself to others; it’s about continuously learning, sharing, and growing.Those words felt like they were meant just for me.

Throughout the two-day conference, I realized that my initial doubts were not signs of inadequacy, but natural feelings when stepping into a bigger arena. I learned that self-doubt can paralyze or push us to prepare harder, listen deeper, and speak more meaningfully. The key is to take that first step despite the uncertainty. By the end of the two-day event, I wasn’t the same person who boarded that plane from Jakarta. I left Bangkok with new friends, valuable connections, and a stronger belief in myself. More importantly, I learned that self-doubt doesn’t mean you’re unqualified — it means you care enough to want to do well. Standing on that stage taught me courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the decision to move forward despite it. And sometimes, opportunities won’t come knocking twice. You have to take them when they arrive. You have to tell yourself, it’s now or never.