By Nahrizul Adib Kadri
I found out about the appointment the same way I find out about most things these days. Not with fireworks, not with a ceremony, but through a short conversation with the Vice-Chancellor at Bangunan Canseleri that ended almost as quickly as it began. A sentence was said. A responsibility was placed. And then life carried on as usual.
Later, a poster appeared. Nicely designed, with the university crest, my name in full, and a title that looked heavier when printed than it did when spoken aloud. Director of Penerbit Universiti Malaya (UM Press). Effective 1 January 2026. The kind of announcement that invites congratulations, assumptions, and quiet recalculations from people who read it.
Some messaged to say “Tahniah”, both personally on WhatsApp and in Facebook’s comment section. Some asked what it meant. Some assumed it was a promotion. It wasn’t. It was an addition. A third role, layered onto two others I was already carrying. Principal of a residential college. Acting principal of another. Still lecturing. Still supervising. Still answering emails that arrive faster than they can be resolved.
I looked at the poster for a while longer than I expected. Not because I was admiring it, but because I was trying to understand how it felt. Excitement would have been the easy response. Pride, too. But what I felt instead was something quieter. A tightening. The awareness that something had shifted, and that how I responded to this shift would matter more than the shift itself.
The next morning, I still had class. Students still asked about assignment deadlines, and which topics are included in the final exams. Someone still needed a signature. Someone else needed advice that had nothing to do with publishing, revenue, or strategy. I still had to decide what to wear, what to prioritise, what could wait.
Nothing around me had changed. And yet, something had.
Moments like this are dangerous, not because they are bad, but because they invite us to become someone else too quickly. To perform growth. To lean into the image. To let momentum decide our posture for us. Titles have a way of pulling us upward, even when the work itself asks us to stay grounded.
I have seen this often enough to be cautious. People do not lose themselves in failure as often as they lose themselves in applause. Failure humbles you. Recognition tempts you to drift.
This appointment did not come from a vacancy I applied for. It came from trust. A request to take care of something that matters. To handle responsibility, not visibility. To learn how systems work, how money flows, how decisions carry consequences beyond good intentions. It came with expectations, but also with a quiet test.
There is a line attributed to Epictetus that I often return to, about how we should be careful not to be carried away by impressions. Not every signal requires a response. Not every opening requires acceleration. Wisdom, he reminds us, lies in knowing when to pause.
So I paused.
I reminded myself of the students who do not care about my titles, only whether I show up. Of the residential college residents who need consistency more than speeches. Of the unfinished work on my desk that does not become less important just because something new has arrived.
We live at a time where movement is rewarded. Faster. Higher. Louder. We are constantly nudged to upgrade, pivot, reinvent. There is nothing wrong with ambition. But there is a quiet cost when ambition forgets its anchor. And staying is how I pay that cost upfront.
As the year comes to an end, many people are planning what they will become next. New goals. New identities. New versions of themselves. I understand the appeal. I feel it too. But what I am carrying into the new year is simpler.
Staying allows me to ask better questions. What must not be dropped? Who must not be neglected? What kind of leader do I become when no one is watching? What kind of person do I remain when new expectations appear?
For that, I chose to stay. Staying with the work that is unfinished. Staying with the people who were here before the poster. Staying with the habits that keep me honest. Staying with the version of myself that still listens more than it speaks.
Just staying true.
Ir Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the Principal of Ibnu Sina and Tuanku Bahiyah Residential College, Universiti Malaya. He may be reached at nahrizuladib@um.edu.my