The teacher is like a kind mother.

Back in my second year at the village school, I was so happy to have a teacher who loved me like a kind mother loves her child. With her comfort, encouragement, and support, my childhood felt like a warm ray of sunshine amidst the storms. That happiness remains vividly etched in my memory.

My teacher had a very gentle name – Nguyen Thi Nhung. In her early twenties, she left Long Khanh, Dong Nai province, to teach in my hometown in the Central Highlands. The image of Ms. Nhung in my memory is that of a beautiful, graceful girl in a green ao dai (traditional Vietnamese dress). She was tall and slender, with a gentle face. Her voice was soft and sweet. All of us, the village children, listened intently, our eyes wide with wonder. However, the lasting impression on me was the kindness in her heart.

The elementary school in my village back then was very simple, with only a row of five classrooms. The red dirt schoolyard had two white frangipani trees, a few eucalyptus trees, and some red flame trees, but it held so many memories of my childhood. We in the second grade had afternoon classes. Classes started at exactly 1 PM, but from the beginning of the school year, I was always late. In the quiet solitude of the mountain village, I heard the school bell ringing, its sound so earnest and urging, but I had my little sister, almost a year old, in my arms. I couldn't leave her home alone. My mother hadn't come home from work yet, and tears welled up in my eyes.

Then my mother appeared at the gate, rushing into the house. I quickly handed my younger sibling to her, grabbed my schoolbag, and hurried to school. I ran as fast as I could, tears welling up in my eyes. The road to school was devoid of flowers and butterflies, only filled with my tears and the fear of being scolded by the teacher.

I stopped at the classroom door, tears still blurring my vision. Ms. Nhung looked at her watch and asked, "Why are you late for school?" "Uh..." I hesitated. She continued, "Classes have been going on for a long time. You're late, and you're crying too?" I continued to cry. Perhaps the teacher thought I had something difficult to say, so she quickly went to the door and led me into the classroom. During recess, she came over to me and gently asked what was wrong. I burst into tears and choked out, "Mom… my mom… she came home late from work. I… I had to carry my younger sibling." She hugged me, wiped away my tears, and comforted me, "I understand." I told her that there were days when my mother worked as a hired hand and only came home when her employer allowed her to. Sometimes her workplace was far from home, so she couldn't get back in time. So, in second grade, whenever I was late for school, Ms. Nhung never scolded me. Because I was late, I had to run almost a kilometer from home to school. On scorching hot days, I would sweat profusely, and on rainy days, I would be soaking wet. And whether it was sunny or rainy, Ms. Nhung would always wipe my face with a towel.

Back then, in second grade, students got to do math problems. Every day, the teacher would give the class several math problems, and whoever finished first would come to her desk to submit their work. I was usually the first in the class to submit my work. Every time I went up to submit my work, she would slip me one or two small candies. Throughout my second year, I received so many candies from her, and I only ate them occasionally, giving the rest to my two younger siblings. Decades have passed, but those loving candies from Ms. Nhung back then remain a sweet memory in my life.

It was also from the fairy tales that Ms. Nhung told the class that, from the age of 7, I believed that kind and hardworking people like Tam would eventually live in abundance and happiness. Ms. Nhung instilled these good dreams in my childhood, which was filled with hardship.

If we were to liken each person's life to a piece of music, then from the somber notes of my impoverished childhood, Teacher Nhung instilled in me truly gentle and vibrant melodies. Later, when I became a Literature teacher, as I taught fairy tales to my students, my heart would yearn for my childhood with Teacher Nhung – my second mother.

Years have passed… somewhere far away, do you know that I still remember and am very grateful to you!

Dang Ngoc Lan

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/chao-nhe-yeu-thuong/202604/co-giao-nhu-me-hien-1e2106c/