-I'll get you another one in a little while, don't cry anymore!

The little girl stopped crying as the teacher's warm hand gently stroked her hair. But soon after, on the other side of the classroom, another boy started crying loudly from sleepiness. The combined-grade classroom at the village school in Hamlet 5 was never quiet, especially since Teacher Xuan took on the additional responsibility of looking after the preschoolers in the village. The sounds of children learning to spell mingled with the babbling of those who couldn't yet form complete sentences. The already crowded desks were now even more cramped with tiny figures; some sat quietly playing with pencils, others lay stretched out on chairs, clutching old towels that smelled of their mothers' milk.

Initially, only a few children would stumble into the classroom by chance, following their older siblings, sitting huddled in a corner, their big, round eyes gazing at the teacher and their older siblings with a mixture of curiosity and shyness. But gradually, the number of children increased. Some were brought by their mothers to be looked after by the teacher because they couldn't take them to the fields. Others found their way to class on their own when their parents left early in the morning, leaving the house empty.

Teacher Xuan has been dedicated to this small school in the remote mountains for nearly eight years. The children here, mostly from impoverished families, come to class wearing worn-out sandals, thin clothes barely protecting them from the cold, and sometimes with empty stomachs because they haven't had breakfast. Despite these hardships, their innocence seems undiminished. Their eyes light up, sparkling like little stars, whenever they hear the teacher tell stories about a new place, an interesting tale, or lessons they've never encountered before. For Teacher Xuan, this is the greatest motivation to stay, to overcome the deprivations and hardships of this place.

Today's self-study time was like any other day. Mr. Xuan was busy grading papers while also comforting a little girl who was sobbing because she missed her mother.

- Be a good boy, after class, I'll take you to the gate to meet your mother!

The sobs gradually subsided, but the child's eyes were still red and swollen, looking at the teacher as if seeking comfort. Outside, the mountain wind rustled through the leaves, carrying the chill of late autumn. In the corner of the classroom, another child had fallen asleep on an old wooden desk, its surface scratched by time and generations of students. The child's tiny feet dangled over the edge of the chair, their plastic sandals having fallen to the floor sometime ago. Teacher Xuan saw this and quietly took his thin scarf and covered the child, carefully pulling the edge up to the child's neck. He paused for a moment, gazing at the children. Their clear eyes, their chubby faces intently focused on their notebooks or drowsily asleep… His heart overflowed with love for the children.

After his morning teaching session, Mr. Xuan hurriedly gathered his books and neatly arranged them in the corner of his desk. Rolling up his sleeves, he walked towards the small kitchen behind the classroom. On the porch, Ms. Phuong was busily washing a basket of freshly picked vegetables from the garden. To ease Mr. Xuan's burden, the parents of the students take turns helping him cook lunch for the children each day. As she picked out wilted leaves, she recounted:

- Teacher, the children here love you very much. Yesterday, I heard Hoa tell her mother that it's more fun here than at home, and that Teacher Xuan is so kind, like a second father to them.

Teacher Xuan paused for a moment, his eyes shining with emotion:

"Even at such a young age, the children already know how to love each other, Ms. Phuong. The weather has been changing lately, and I'm worried they'll get sick!"

Ms. Phuong looked slightly flustered:

- We feel so sorry for you, teacher! But we don't know what to do. Thank you for coming and staying!

Teacher Xuan just smiled kindly, his hands nimbly slicing the meat. Thin slices of meat were neatly arranged on a plate, then carefully seasoned and marinated. When the aroma of stir-fried meat and freshly cooked rice filled the kitchen, little faces chirped and rushed in like young birds. They crowded around the small wooden tables, sitting neatly. Besides his students, lunchtime also included special guests: preschool children and sometimes even children too young to attend school in the village.

- Eat up, son, eat until you're full, you still have homework to do this afternoon.

The gentle clinking of bowls and chopsticks mingled with bursts of laughter. One child scooped up soup with a spoon, slurping it up with relish, while another playfully snatched a piece of meat, put it in their mouth, and giggled. Their round eyes sparkled with joy, and their tiny hands moved nimbly at the table. Beside them, Thin, a second-grade girl, carefully divided portions for the younger preschoolers. Older children like Thin understood that Mr. Xuan couldn't do everything himself, so they proactively helped him with tasks like caring for and serving the children.

As lunch ended, the clanging of dishes gradually subsided. The older children nimbly stood up, dividing up tasks and tidying the tables and chairs after the meal. One group carefully carried the used bowls and chopsticks down to the small stream behind the school to wash them. The gentle sound of flowing water mingled with the clear laughter echoing through the mountains. In the small kitchen corner, Teacher Xuan continued tidying up the pots and pans. The fire had just gone out, but the lingering smoke still spread gently, blending with the scent of grass, plants, and the characteristic earthy smell of the mountain region.

In front of the classroom, the afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long, golden streaks across the red dirt courtyard. Barefoot students skipped and played, leaving tiny footprints on the ground. Their clear, carefree laughter echoed, dispelling the biting chill of the mountains. Some children, instead of playing, lay down to sleep on the small mat the teacher had temporarily spread out in front of the classroom door.

In the distance, towering mountain peaks rose high, shrouded in a thin, hazy layer of evening mist. This mountain range stood like a silent guardian, protecting and sheltering this small village school in Hamlet 5. Though simple, in Mr. Xuan's eyes, this school was a guiding light, a place where small dreams were kindled and grew stronger day by day. Watching the children playing in front of the class, their footsteps rhythmic on the dirt playground, he couldn't help but be moved. This school was just a tiny speck of light in the deep forest, but it was here that the rays of knowledge and love were kindled. Even if only one child learned a new letter, even if only a glimmer of hope shone in their eyes, all the hardships were worthwhile. From this place, these children would carry the warmth of love and knowledge into life, becoming vibrant green shoots amidst countless difficulties…

Late afternoon. The sun gradually sets behind the mountains, leaving a thin, delicate streak of light on the horizon, like a golden thread stretched across the deep purple sky. Tomorrow will be just like today; Teacher Xuan will once again wake up at dawn, light the fire, repair the blackboard, and welcome each small face, fragrant with the scent of sunshine and wind, into the classroom. Simple letters will continue to be written, each stroke a scribble, yet containing so many dreams. And so, the lamp of knowledge will continue to be lit each day with love for his profession, kindness, and the perseverance of a man who lights the way for the mountains!

Linh Chau

Source: https://huengaynay.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/tac-gia-tac-pham/nguoi-thap-den-cho-nui-161924.html