Thanks teacher!

November has come again, bringing with it a cold wind. The north wind signals the coming of winter. I don't know if it's because the change in weather makes people feel melancholy or because the Teacher's Day is coming up that makes my soul flutter.

Everyone has a time when they went to school twice a day, everyone has unforgettable memories with teachers who left an indelible impression in their mind. So every time November comes, every time the Teacher Appreciation Day is approaching, their hearts tremble with nostalgia for the old days.

Back then, at the village school, every day I sat listening to the teacher teach many useful lessons. He brought us to literary works, to the values of truth, goodness and beauty that the writer wanted to convey. Like Ho, Huan Cao, Chi Pheo, the talented but troubled Kieu... I don't understand why the teacher chose to study literature when this subject was mostly taught by female teachers. His words were warm. His face was elegant and pleasing to the eye. He became the person admired by female students in the school because he was not only handsome but also taught well.

In the small school, the teacher diligently taught generations of students day and night. Especially for our team of excellent students, we had to study for exams every afternoon. He was quite strict and often had high demands. With the excellent students studying, he made strict demands, so sometimes in one afternoon we had to copy more than ten pages of student papers. In the evening, we had to complete the assignments he gave us or else we would be scolded. Yet we were never angry with him, we always gathered around to chat with him like friends. At times like that, he would joke around, as if he were a completely different person from his usual self.

Then we graduated, each of us chose our own path. For the first few years after graduation, we gathered to visit our teacher on November 20th, but then we gradually lost contact, and in the end, all that remained was the sweet memories of the time in white uniforms at school. But surprisingly, when I recently connected with my teacher on Facebook, he still remembered my name, still remembered the stubborn former student who openly opposed him just because he never gave me a perfect score like the others. He explained that I was arrogant, if he gave me a perfect score, I would become arrogant and refuse to strive anymore. Now I understand that my teacher's heart is as vast as the mother ocean, he never blames his students but always pays attention to each student's temperament to teach them well.

Suddenly I thought to myself that teachers are always like that, still "quietly coming and going early in the morning", still silently being the ones who protect their students, finding ways to shape them into good people. Although teachers do not have the merit of giving birth and raising us like parents, they have the merit of teaching us to become good people. Teachers leave a deep impression in the hearts of students for life, forever imprinted in the hearts of many generations of students with deep gratitude.

When November 20th comes, flowers fill the streets, reminding us of our gratitude to our teachers. My heart suddenly flutters, wondering if my teacher still remembers his old classmates. Friends are all over the place, if we can contact each other, we make an appointment to go back, visit the old school, visit the teacher, and recall the mischievous memories of the white uniform days in the school yard. Just thinking about it makes my heart flutter with so many loving emotions. It turns out that my teacher planted the seeds of gratitude in our hearts back then, so that now the seeds have grown into trees, trees that always remember the one who planted them, still want to find their roots, just to visit, to ask: Teacher, do you still remember me? And I know for sure that my teacher will smile and say: How could I forget you...

This year, November 20th has come again. Flowers are everywhere on the streets. I quietly called to order a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to the school for you. Teacher, I have missed the winter, November 20th, and the visit to my old school and to you. But, forever in my heart, I will always remember your kindness, the one who brought me the love of literature, made me yearn to travel, to live, to write. Thank you, teacher!

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