The news director that year!

In a journalistic career, everyone will always have their first teachers (illustrative photo)

I remember being stunned in the middle of the newsroom. There were many cameras, reporters coming and going, landline phones ringing and a bustling atmosphere. In the center of that whirlpool, I met him - "the Head of the Newsroom that year".

He was not an easy-going person at first glance. He spoke little, had a stern face, and a serious gaze. But the more I worked with him, the more I realized that behind that calm demeanor was a dedicated teacher, passionate about his profession, and as strict with words as a monk with scriptures.

The first news story I was assigned to write, he edited almost the entire thing. I held the printed copy full of blue ink stains, my heart heavy. But he didn't yell, didn't judge. He just said: "Being a journalist is not just about giving information. It's about making the information correct, clear, and accessible to people."

For me, a person who had just stepped into the literary chair, that was the first transformation. I began to understand: good sentences are not necessarily correct sentences. Attractiveness cannot be exchanged for authenticity. And behind a news article of only a few hundred words is a professional ethics that must be maintained line by line, word by word.

He has a habit of reading carefully, editing deeply, and especially never allowing carelessness. If there is even a wrong date, a misspelled title, or a vague place name, he will ask for a redo. But the strange thing is that no matter how many corrections he makes, he always makes the writer feel listened to and supported without being hurt.

I still remember clearly the call my uncle made after sending the wrong news article: "Where are you?"

I have worked in the news department for 10 years. In those 10 years, each news report sent out was a re-learning of the profession. There were days when I had to run events continuously and come back to the office late at night. On those days, my uncle was still there waiting, checking the news for the reporters.

Once I was discouraged with the job, he just smiled: "Not everyone has the opportunity to be exposed to the daily movements of society like journalists. So don't rush through it."

He loves his job in the way of someone who has dedicated his life: no frills, no flowery speech, just silently upholding the principles of the job in every detail, even the smallest.

Later, I moved to Binh Thuan Newspaper, another turning point. But sometimes, in the middle of a difficult writing page, in the middle of arguments about choosing headlines and choosing photos, I still ask myself: “If you were still reviewing news now, what would you change here?”

Every time I am reminded like that, I feel grateful that I have learned the profession from someone like him, not through a textbook but through the way of life and work of a decent journalist.

This June, I visited my uncle. He had been retired for a few years, and his house was located in a small corner in the heart of Phan Thiet. The house was still the same, still neat and tidy as before. We sat and talked about the profession, about news, about current events even though he had left the station, his eyes still lit up when he mentioned the reports, the news...

I sat listening, suddenly feeling time go back. The head of the department that year, to me, was not only a superior, not only a colleague, but also the first teacher I met on the path of journalism. A person who did not lecture, did not “lecture”, but every action he did, every correction he made, every principle he kept… quietly planted in me the belief that: journalism, first and foremost, is a work of ethics.

On the occasion of Vietnam Revolutionary Press Day, I rewrote this little story as a silent tribute to you and to journalists like you: those who do not choose to stand in the limelight but quietly keep journalism on a clean, solid and correct foundation.