A Silent Father Who Didn’t Know How to Talk to His Son
Kelvin is the kind of man people describe as solid. Reliable. Logical.
At 45, he’s been an engineering manager for nearly two decades. He’s the guy who solves production issues, keeps costs down, and never misses a deadline. He’s also a husband and father of three — two daughters in primary school, and a teenage son, Bryan, who barely speaks to him anymore.
Most days, Kelvin comes home late. He eats dinner silently, replies emails from his phone, and tells himself this is just what fathers do: provide.
Conflict? He avoids it.
Emotions? He doesn’t have time.
But when Bryan started staying out late, skipping meals, and shrugging off every question with a “whatever,” something shifted. Kelvin’s wife tried to talk to him about it, but his only response was: “He’ll grow out of it.”
Still, that silence ate at him. And when a colleague casually mentioned a communication workshop he’d attended — run by something called POP Institute — Kelvin, for reasons even he couldn’t explain, signed up.
The POP Institute Review He Never Thought He’d Write
Kelvin showed up on a Saturday, notebook in hand, expecting… slides. Maybe frameworks. He figured it’d be like any other corporate training.
It wasn’t.
The facilitators at POP Institute didn’t start with tips or templates. They started with stories. They asked uncomfortable questions. They didn’t talk about performance — they talked about presence.
One exercise changed everything.
Participants were asked to roleplay a real-life conversation they were avoiding. Kelvin chose Bryan. His partner played his son. Halfway through, as Kelvin repeated the lines he often used at home — “Did you do your homework?” “Don’t waste time.” “Just focus on your studies.” — his voice cracked.
Then came the words he didn’t expect:
“I don’t know what’s happening to you. And I don’t know how to help.”
Silence.
And then, for the first time in years, Kelvin cried. In a room full of strangers.
He later said in his POP Institute review:
“That moment broke me. But it also opened me. I didn’t realise how much I’d buried.”
What Changed — And What Didn’t
Kelvin didn’t become a motivational speaker overnight. He didn’t come home hugging his kids or journaling.
But he did one thing the next morning: He asked Bryan if they could go for breakfast — just the two of them.
The conversation was awkward. The silence felt heavy.
But then Kelvin said, “I know I haven’t made it easy to talk to me. But I want to try now.”
Bryan didn’t say much. But he didn’t leave the table. He nodded.
That was enough.
Over the next few weeks, Kelvin started showing up differently — not with speeches, but with sincerity.
He listened more. Judged less.
At work, he began using the POP tools with his team too. Weekly check-ins weren’t just about tasks anymore. He started asking his engineers what they needed — and surprisingly, they opened up. Productivity went up. Tension went down.
In one team huddle, his junior engineer said, “I didn’t expect someone like you to ask how I’m doing.”
Kelvin smiled. Quietly.
Masculinity, Fatherhood, and the Power of Being Present
Most POP Institute reviews talk about transformation. But Kelvin says it’s not about becoming a new person — it’s about remembering who you were, before life told you to suppress it.
In the Singapore context, especially among men in their 40s and 50s, vulnerability isn’t just rare — it’s discouraged.
Kelvin now believes that’s the real problem.
He says:
“No one taught us how to talk about feelings. Not our fathers, not our schools. But POP gave me a space to practice. To mess up. And to realise that being a father isn’t just about providing — it’s about showing up.”
He still doesn’t cry often. Still prefers systems to storytelling. But something has shifted.
His teenage son now occasionally comes into his study just to sit.
His team respects him — not just for his skills, but for his presence.
And Kelvin, once a man of spreadsheets and silence, has found something more powerful than control: Connection.