A warm, home-based learning space — built around the child.

Why I started Untuk Anak

A school built by a teacher, shaped by motherhood.

I didn't set out to build a school. I set out to understand children.

Five years ago, I stepped into my first classroom as an early childhood educator. Since then, I've sat on tiny chairs, wiped paint off little fingers, and listened to stories that made no sense and perfect sense at the same time. I've worked with children of every temperament — the quiet observers, the fearless explorers, the ones who need just a little more patience. With a background in psychology and experience across ages and learning styles, including children with additional needs, I learned to see what each child was trying to tell me, even when they didn't have the words.

But nothing prepared me for the teacher I would become when I became a mother.

As a single mother, I lived the contradiction that so many educators know: pouring your whole heart into other people's children all day, then coming home with just scraps of energy for your own. I felt it in my bones — the exhaustion, the guilt, the knowing that there had to be a gentler way.

And I saw it around me, too. Teachers expected to give endlessly. Classrooms too full. Planning time that existed only in theory. The system asked so much of the people who shape our children's earliest years, and gave back so little. I watched good teachers burn out. I watched children feel the cost of that. And I knew: this is not a personal problem. This is a design problem.

So I designed something different. Untuk Anak started with a simple, stubborn belief: when teachers are truly supported, children naturally thrive. Not because of fancy facilities or big marketing budgets — but because a calm, respected adult has the capacity to really see a child. We keep our classes small. We give teachers real planning time. We build a team where people lift each other up. The result is a space where children feel safe enough to be curious, bold enough to try, and connected enough to belong.

"We are not building the biggest school. We are building the school we wish existed — for children, for parents, and for teachers."

We may not have the biggest campus or the shiniest toys, and that's exactly the point. A beautiful education isn't defined by impressive facilities — it's defined by whether your child is genuinely known. Whether someone notices when they need encouragement, when they need space, when they need a challenge. Whether they leave each day feeling a little more capable, a little more themselves.

And I want this for more than just the families who can afford it. The longer I taught, the more I saw how uneven access to quality early education is. That stays with you. So Untuk Anak is built as a cross-subsidized community — as we grow, full-fee tuition will help fund scholarships, nutritious meals, and learning experiences for underprivileged local children. This school isn't a finished product. It's a beginning.

If you're a parent wondering whether there's a place that will truly see your child — there is. If you're a teacher wondering whether there's a workplace that will truly see you — there is. Untuk Anak is more than a preschool. It is the school I wished existed. And now, it does.