Sunlight on the podium

(ĐN) - November returns like a familiar guest, before knocking on the door it stirs people's hearts with old memories. The sky is dry and clear, the sunlight shines on the roofs, then tiptoes down to the school yard still covered with morning dew. There is something indescribable in that gentle sunlight, as if it carries with it each story of teachers, those who spend their whole lives standing in the middle of the classroom, their souls always directed towards their students.

There are days when I suddenly remember the sound of chalk rubbing against the blackboard. A thin sound but can awaken a whole sky of memories. In a small classroom, amidst countless words, teachers are like the guardians of the sun. They gather every tiny piece of sunlight from the students' eyes, from the loud reading, from the book pages spreading out like wings, and then give us a little warmth to carry with us for the rest of our lives.

I still remember my elementary school teacher who used to stand by the window when teaching. She said that the light was the most beautiful there. She told me about poetry, about rhymes as soft as water. Perhaps from that moment I learned to appreciate the subtle beauty of life, the things that don’t resonate loudly but are deeply imprinted in people’s hearts.

There are teachers who are like silent rivers: not fancy, not fussy, just persistently flowing through the days. Like the high school homeroom teacher, who never talked about love but each look was filled with concern for each student. He taught us a simple thing: "No one can choose where they start, but everyone can choose how they continue." It was that saying that held me back in the most uncertain moments when I stumbled at the threshold: university.

Teachers are not just people who teach, they are the silent figures who blow the dust of life off my clothes, so that I can step out into the big world with a passionate heart. They are the ones who see my potential. They are patient with my clumsiness and impetuosity, like someone lifting a weak sprout in the wind.

November is the month of flower bouquets, hastily written wishes, and bows of gratitude. I sometimes wonder: what makes teachers stick to the podium for life? Kindness? Passion? Or the belief that every child has a light of their own, if only someone is patient enough to light it? The answer can only be answered with the heart.

One time, I returned to my old school on a windless afternoon. The school yard was wide and quiet as if it was sleeping, but under the corner of the old banyan tree, the laughter of the students still hung in the air. I stood there for a long time, hearing a strange sound in my heart. It seemed that time had gone far away, but the teachers were still standing there in every step of my growth, and that of many others.

Perhaps, if we were to define a profession that uses youth to build the future for others, it would certainly be teaching. They are as quiet as a stream, but it is that silent stream that nourishes the entire green field.

Vietnamese Teachers' Day is not only an occasion to express gratitude, but also an occasion for us to reflect on ourselves. The good things in us today, are mostly sown by the hands of those who chose to stand at the highest and loneliest place in the world of childhood: the podium.

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Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/chao-nhe-yeu-thuong/202511/dau-nang-tren-buc-giang-a2313f0/