N SCHOOL IN THE BORDER REGION
One day in September 1987, we left Hue on a bus at An Cuu bus station and embarked on a long and arduous journey. It was a long and difficult trip, filled with hardship and dust. We arrived in Buon Ma Thuot ( Dak Lak province), stayed there for a week, and then received an assignment to teach at Ea Sup High School, a school in a district town about 30-40 km from the Cambodian border, near Mondulkiri province.
In this area, the majority of the residents are families who migrated here as part of the new economic zones from Thai Binh and Quang Nam (formerly), and some others who migrated freely from Cao Bang and Lang Son provinces. They came here to settle down, and because the distance from the district to the province for high school was too far, and conditions were difficult, their children's education was interrupted. Therefore, the school was established.
Teachers and students in 1989 at Ea Súp High School (Dak Lak)
PHOTO: TTB reproduced from archives
I taught literature and a colleague taught physics; we both started at the school in the same year. It was the beginning of the 1987-1988 school year, the school's second year in operation. At that time, the school buildings were still makeshift, apparently repurposed from an irrigation station. There were only two classrooms with wooden walls and corrugated iron roofs, and only two classes (grades 10 and 11), each with about 30 students, from somewhat distant villages or areas surrounding the district center. Teachers and students taught and learned together, sharing a warm and loving bond and a thirst for knowledge, leaving behind many shared and personal memories throughout those months.
In those classes, there were a few Ede and Mnong students from scattered villages studying alongside their Kinh (Vietnamese) classmates. Because the district town was small and somewhat isolated, parents greatly appreciated the teachers who traveled long distances to educate their children. Almost every household invited the teachers to attend ancestral ceremonies or New Year's celebrations. During ancestral worship ceremonies in the villages, the ethnic minority students would excitedly offer and toast the teachers with rice wine until they were drunk. There, amidst the hardships of the early years after the reforms, we wholeheartedly imparted knowledge to the students with fervent affection and dedicated guidance. Even now, many of those students, now over 50 years old, still gather on November 20th (Vietnamese Teachers' Day), excitedly calling to wish their teachers well and to hear their voices again, singing the old songs that once echoed on the stage in the schoolyard.
A chance encounter in life
After leaving the highland district town for five years, I returned to Dong Nai . The dream of someone "craving" writing led me to the Dau Giay intersection, a major thoroughfare connecting the North and South, and also heading towards Da Lat. I bought a small house near a rubber plantation, quietly went about my writing, but still managed to get a teaching position (on a contract basis) at Dau Giay High School to ease my longing for writing and to earn a little extra money from teaching each lesson.
This picture was embroidered by his student, Ngoc Ha, as a gift to her teacher 11 years ago.
PHOTO: TTB
At Dau Giay High School, in my first year as a homeroom teacher for a 10th-grade class, I encountered a group of students who were somewhat… unconventional. Most of them were quick learners, bright students, and had relatively high grades each semester compared to other 10th-grade classes. However, many of them possessed hidden talents and had artistic or romantic personalities, so sometimes I had to find ways to… discipline them and bring them into line with the school's rules and regulations. So, adapting to each student's abilities, I organized and created opportunities for each group to develop their strengths alongside their regular studies. This flexibility yielded excellent results, as each student in the groups seemed happy and content to be given an environment to develop their talents. As a result, they would confide in me about everything – family matters, studies, friends, classmates… It was an honor in my teaching career to receive the trust of a generation that doesn't easily express or confide in others.
AND THE STORY OF THE STUDENTS
One day in late July 2025, I accepted an invitation to visit my former student, Ngoc Ha, from Dau Giay High School, now residing in Nha Be (Ho Chi Minh City). For years, ever since leaving high school, Ha had shared almost everything with me, both happy and sad. Even after I returned to Ho Chi Minh City in 2000, she would occasionally visit my wife and me, treating my children like her own younger siblings. In the small house by the Nha Be river that day, filled with laughter, my former student and her husband reminisced about their early days together and recalled memories of their old teacher. Like many other teachers, I've forgotten some things over the decades, so I was sometimes surprised by the small anecdotes my former student still remembered.
The author (center) during a chance encounter with Vu Ngoc Tu and his wife (at that time the Editor-in-Chief of Dak Nong Newspaper, a student since 1987) in Binh Thuan in 2024.
PHOTO: AN PHONG
However, I remember the story of Ha's family from over 30 years ago very clearly. Her father was a well-known martial arts master in the Dau Giay area, who unfortunately died in a traffic accident one day. Left alone in the depths of grief, coupled with overwhelming difficulties, there were times when she considered dropping out of school. At that time, as her homeroom teacher, I went to her house to persuade her mother to let her return to school, and I also sought ways to encourage and support her classmates so she could continue her education. Even when Ha graduated from high school and went to professional school, I continued to encourage her, even though I was still struggling and uncertain about my writing career. Several years later, I learned that Ha gradually settled down, got married, bought a house, and had two children. It's a heartwarming story in this life, reflecting on the growth and maturity of the students I once taught before transitioning to journalism.
As in previous years, several students from the remote district of Ea Súp, where I used to teach, have returned to work and establish careers in Gia Nghĩa, the provincial capital of Đắk Nông (when Đắk Lắk province was divided into two provinces, Đắk Lắk and Đắk Nông). They have become successful, and many have become key officials. One day, some friends and colleagues from newspapers in Ho Chi Minh City, after a business trip, happened to meet these students and praised them. They also mentioned that the students had sent their regards and that "my teacher back then was excellent and very dedicated." Hearing this, I felt happy. And not only that, whenever we have the chance to meet, we excitedly reminisce about the old days.
And so, between us—the students of yesteryear and the teachers who dedicated their youth to nurturing us into responsible adults decades ago—the warm feelings remain intact whenever we remember them…
Source: https://thanhnien.vn/nhung-thang-ngay-day-hoc-185251115193147878.htm
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