At a dinner party I attended, I found myself grilled by another guest, an older Filipino-American woman, about the work I do. I told her about my (then) plans to spin-off the gelato business of the company. “Good for you,” she exclaimed. “It must be tough to prove yourself since you’re a woman and a minority.”

The statement stunned me for a moment. I honestly had never thought of myself in those terms. At least, not in the sense that these facets were barriers to success that I had to overcome. This is why I don’t attend parties.

I spent thirteen formative years at a private all-girls Chinese school in the Philippines. It is only now that I realize the tremendous impact on my outlook and my life the experience had given me.

The Immaculate Conception Academy was one of the top schools in the country. The education I received there was, truth be told, nothing special, indeed subpar to what my American counterpart received in the US public school system. What made ICA schooling valuable was the promise that its girls would grow up with others who shared similar values and turn into the leaders of tomorrow’s business world.

It was interesting that you couldn’t divide the class in any stereotypical manner — we were all the same, Chinese girls. In the classroom there was none of the sexual discrimination that pervaded the rest of society and our cultural heritage. The biases that existed outside were tempered by the fact that at school, we retained a single identifier — students. As we developed our minds, we had the unique opportunity to build our own identities, unhindered by insecurities of gender and race.

Of course, I do not advocate homogeneous classrooms for they are less able to teach tolerance, social skills and out of the box thinking, among other things. I am merely pointing out the benefits that did arise from the mold that my contemporaries and I were formed in.

My classmates and I had parents who shared the same stories. They started from nothing, immigrants in a country that did not speak their language, slowly building tiny corner shops into large successful companies over decades of hard work, determination and single-minded focus to provide a better life for their families. And so forth. There was the expectation to honor then surpass their achievements.

It never occurs to the ICA graduate that her opinion could be discounted by others because she is a woman. She may have heard of this dreaded “glass ceiling” but has never seen it. She has no doubt that if she goes for what she wants in life, she will achieve her dreams.

This is what I value most of our upbringing: it effectively instilled a sense of entitlement. I mean this in the old meaning of the word, before it was used to describe the current generation of narcissistic trophy children. We were entitled to great things not simply because we said we wanted them, but because we knew we could get them through our own abilities. This was a group of achievers who demanded the best of themselves and not only for themselves.

There is something to be said about the prevailing culture that rewards mediocrity. Children are trained to expect immediate gratification for work. Motivation is found outside the self, measured in gifts, celebrations and recognition. When every small gesture earns lavish praise, the incentive to perform needs rise in proportion to the amount of effort required.

True self esteem comes from within, from the satisfaction of knowing one’s abilities and potential to achieve unimaginable things. It enables the person to go forth where no one else has gone before, to aim higher, past the point that external rewards can promise.

I wonder if the ICAns graduating this year are getting the same education I did. No longer the children of builders but the offspring of the born wealthy, are they still being taught that hard work and ambition trump pedigree? Or do they get thanked just for handing homework in on time?

I sincerely hope it is the former, though I doubt it is so. It is thus imperative that parents take an active role instilling in their young girls, not only the chutzpah to ignore the gender and racial biases of their culture, but also the self-worth and internal drive to aim for the best because they can.