May returns with the summer sun in the rocky region of Meo Vac, Tuyen Quang province. It's not as stifling and scorching as in the lowlands, but the highland sun remains dry, harsh, and lingering across the silvery-gray rocky slopes. In these early summer days, what worries many families in the highlands is not only the heat, but also the upcoming entrance exams for their children into 10th grade.

My daughter is 15 years old this year. She's still petite, carrying her schoolbag to school every morning. On evenings when I'm away working, she sits at her desk to study, reviewing her lessons and reminding herself to try her best. Sometimes, even late at night, her notebook is still open, her pen still in her hand. And yet today, that little girl is taking her first truly important exam of her school life.

From early morning, the homeroom teacher of class 9A2 at Meo Vac Secondary School was present at the examination site, carefully checking the students' documents and giving them instructions before the exam began.

For the past two days, my mother has taken time off work to accompany me to the exam. Yesterday afternoon, she drove me to the school to check the exam rooms. I was excitedly looking for my registration number, searching for my name on the list, and finding my exam room; while my mother quietly walked around the school grounds, looking at the entrance, the corridors, and the steps I would be walking on the next morning. There are small worries, seemingly unnameable, but only a mother can silently contemplate them.

Last night, my mother set her alarm for 5:30 AM to make sure she was awake to take me to the exam. But even at nearly midnight, she was still tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She was scrolling through her phone, intending to look at something briefly before turning it off to fall asleep, when she suddenly came across an article from Meo Vac Secondary School addressed to its 2011 graduating class before the exam.

The simple words of encouragement from the teachers brought tears to my mother's eyes: "Take care of your health, eat well, get enough sleep...", "Enter the exam room with a calm, confident, and optimistic mindset...".

Reading those lines, my heart suddenly calmed down. It turned out that on the night before the exam, it wasn't just parents who were sleepless with worry for their children. Somewhere, the children's teachers were probably also staying up late, anxiously watching over each of their young students.

Those words of encouragement, amidst the exam season in this rocky region, were like a gentle hand placed on the children's shoulders: Stay calm, try your best, your family and teachers are always behind you.

It was just past 5 a.m., but Mom was already awake, even though the alarm clock hadn't gone off yet. Outside, the morning dew still clung to the leaves. The mountain breeze was chilly. Mom quietly got out of bed, afraid of waking me. After getting ready, she put on a light jacket and drove to the market to buy breakfast for me.

In the highlands, shops open late in the morning. My mother waited for almost fifteen minutes before the shop started selling food. While waiting, the shop owner, while preparing the food, asked, "Is your daughter taking the 10th grade entrance exam this year?"

My mother smiled gently, nodded, and then quickly took out her phone to text me: "Wake up, daughter, I'm waiting for breakfast." Just one text message, but it contained so much love and anxiety from my mother on the first morning of my big exam.

At 6:20 a.m., Mom drove me to the exam. The school was only a little over a kilometer from home, just a few minutes away. But today, Mom still wanted to leave early. My daughter sat behind me on the motorbike, clutching her pencil case to her chest. The small, winding road along the mountainside was still shrouded in mist. On either side of the road, the young green cornfields were sprouting in the early morning sun.

While driving, the mother took the opportunity to remind her child: "Remember to stay calm in the exam room... read the questions carefully before you start..." The child just softly said "yes" and hugged the schoolbag tightly to their chest.

Arriving at the school gate, it wasn't as crowded as in the lowlands; only a few cars were scattered in front. Some parents had just dropped off their children and were hurrying back to get to work, to get to the fields to tend to their corn crops.

The mother slowed the car down. The daughter got out, adjusted her backpack strap, and turned to look at her mother. The mother softly said, "Good luck with your exam, my dear. Don't worry too much."

The child smiled faintly, trying to appear strong: "I'm going inside... Mom, you can go home, you don't need to wait for me. You can pick me up at the end of the day."

My mother nodded. But how could she leave right away? She stood in a corner near the school gate, silently watching me. My white uniform was a little too big for my thin shoulders. After a few steps, I met a group of classmates and waved, chattering and laughing as if to hide my nervousness.

My mother just stood there watching. Watching my small figure disappear into the schoolyard. Watching my hair gently sway in the early morning breeze. Then, suddenly, she felt a lump in her throat. Just yesterday I was clinging to her sleeve at the elementary school gate, and today I'm already walking into an important exam in my life.

Only when the bell rang, the school gates slowly closed, and her child's figure disappeared down the hallway, did the mother quietly turn her car around and head home.

On the way home, all my mother could think about was: "I wonder if my child is nervous...", "I wonder if the exam was manageable...".

When she got home, Mom checked her phone and saw a message from the homeroom teacher in the class group chat: "Have all the parents brought their children to the exam site yet?" Just one message, but it softened Mom's heart. It turned out that on this anxious morning, it wasn't just the parents who were worried. Somewhere, the homeroom teacher was also anxiously watching over each of her students, worried that one might be late, or that another might forget their documents.

Last night, she also sent very detailed messages: "Parents, remember to remind your children to go to bed early so they have the energy for the exam tomorrow," and "Parents, remember to personally check that all school supplies are complete, especially the citizen identification card."

For almost the entire month of exam preparation, she would text every day: "Parents, remember to remind your children to study...", "It's hot, remember to make sure your children eat and drink properly to stay healthy...". Reading those messages, my mother suddenly realized: Sometimes, teachers care more about their students than parents do.

In this remote and challenging mountainous region, the teachers do more than just teach literacy. They are also the ones who quietly nurture small dreams, helping them to soar beyond the rocky mountains of their homeland.

Later, when you leave Meo Vac Junior High School, you will carry with you not only knowledge but also the love of your teachers and the memories of your school years in the highlands.

Perhaps that's what a mother's love is like. It doesn't need to be anything grand. Just waking up at dawn amidst the mountain mist, standing for a long time outside the school gate watching the small figure of her child in a white uniform… then rushing to the market to prepare lunch, hoping that when her child returns, there will be a delicious meal and a peaceful sleep.

And the teacher's love is expressed through late-night reminders, worries about students forgetting their documents, and anxious waiting for news of each student's safe arrival at the exam site.

The entrance exam for 10th grade will eventually be over. Someday, you might forget whether the exam was easy or difficult, forget how nervous you were that early summer morning in that highland region.

But I hope you will remember: On your first steps towards adulthood, there were mothers who woke up when the mist still covered the mountains and forests, and teachers who quietly stayed awake all night, watching over you with all their love and hope.

    Source: https://www.qdnd.vn/van-hoa/van-hoc-nghe-thuat/nhung-nguoi-thuc-cung-mua-thi-1041637