At many sections of road near Ben Loi bridge (Dong Hoa area), thick mud covered the whole area, the erosion was as deep as the mouth of a stream opened after an angry storm. But on that layer of soil, people could see small footprints of children.
Children go to school on roads littered with rotten leaves, broken pieces of wood, soaked bamboo, and even corrugated iron roofs that have been washed away from somewhere.
One child wore broken sandals, the other went barefoot because his small sandals were swept away by the flood.
The child in the white shirt had turned the color of alluvium, holding a school bag wrapped in a plastic bag, as if holding a fragile treasure.
The figures of the children are small in the vast and chaotic space, but in each step there is something very resilient.
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| Students of Tay Nguyen University encourage flood-affected students to overcome difficulties in their studies. |
Schools in many places have not yet been cleaned up; classrooms still have thick mud patches under the walls, moss-covered windows, and tilted desks and chairs. But the children still go to school. They do not care that their classrooms are not clean, the blackboards are not yet wiped, or that the books are still not dry after several days in the sun. They only know that “being able to go to school” after the flood is the most important thing.
In the western areas of the province, the road to school after the flood was no less difficult. The road to Cu Pui commune was cut deep like a moat by water and had to be quickly filled with earth. The section from the center of Krong Bong commune to Hoa Son commune was blocked by rocks rolled down from upstream, forming large mounds. Small streams near Yang Mao commune that used to only need to be crossed by foot are now still raging with water. Yet the children still overcame everything to get to school. Some had to follow the edge of the rocks, others took a detour through the coffee plantations to get to class on time.
When the early winter sunlight shone into the schoolyard, the rows of wet desks and chairs were placed neatly in the corner of the wall by adults, drying them.
Teachers, parents, soldiers, and militiamen all sat together, scraping off the blackboard and collecting wet notebooks to dry. And then, when the school reopened, the familiar sounds suddenly became the warmest music.
The sound of flip-flops on the muddy cement floor, the sound of dry leaves crumbling underfoot, the sound of tables and chairs being moved, the sound of teachers arranging new textbooks… all blend together to create a new rhythm of life for the land that has just survived the storm and flood.
The children, though still emaciated after many sleepless nights fighting the flood with their parents, still sat upright, their eyes shining like stars. They opened their wrinkled notebooks and wrote each line. If nature can destroy a road, then those very lines of writing have opened another road - a road of hope and knowledge.
The road to school after the flood is not just a simple journey. It is the return of faith. Each child's footprint on the mud carries the warmth of the future. The lands where roofs have been washed away, cattle have been lost, crops have been damaged... still stand strong because there are children like that - who know how to overcome the mud to find knowledge, who know how to use their clear eyes to soothe the pain of the whole family, who know how to make a morning after the flood not so heavy. The road to school after the flood is therefore not just a road for children. It is the road of the whole homeland, the heartbeat of life and proof that after going through danger, there is always a way to start again.
Source: https://baodaklak.vn/xa-hoi/202512/duong-den-truong-sau-lu-58706ce/
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