Short story Chi's Class

The smell of chalk and fresh paint still lingered in the small room. Chi stood in front of the light blue painted wooden door, the sign “Early Intervention Classroom” was written in the careful handwriting of teacher Lan.

From inside came the discordant, irregular cries of children, mixed with the clanging of falling objects. Chi took a deep breath, her hand tightly gripping the old leather bag - a gift her mother had given her on the day she took the university entrance exam, with the hope that she would become a famous teacher.

Illustration: AI

Three years ago, at a decisive crossroads, Chi chose the path that everyone opposed. “Special education ? Are you crazy?” her mother’s voice rang out during that fateful dinner. “What’s the point of studying? Low salary, hard work, and having to deal with… unusual children.” Her father was silent, just shaking his head, disappointment evident in his eyes.

Mr. Minh, the homeroom teacher of grade 12, called Chi into his private room that day. “You have the ability to get a high score on the exam, why did you choose this major? Have you thought carefully? It is difficult to find a job in a normal teaching major, let alone special education.” The teacher looked at Chi with a worried look, “I advise you to think again.”

But Chi knew, from that day, from that afternoon four years ago, when she happened to pass by the early intervention center near her house. A little boy, about five years old, was sitting alone in the corner of the yard, holding a dry leaf in his hand, mumbling sounds that no one could understand.

The young teacher walked over, sat down beside him, said nothing, just silently picked up leaves with the boy. Ten minutes later, the boy looked into her eyes for the first time, and gave a small smile. And Chi stood outside the gate, not knowing why, tears kept flowing.

The door opened. Teacher Lan walked out, her hair neatly tied up, her eyes slightly dark. “Chi is here? Come in, the children are waiting for me.” Her voice was gentle but a little tired.

The classroom was small, with only five children. A little girl sat in the corner, constantly tapping her fingers. A little boy lay on the ground, his eyes glued to the tiles on the floor. Another child ran back and forth, constantly saying “ah… ah… ah…”. These children were special, each in their own world , no two were alike.

“My name is Chi, you can call me Miss Chi,” Chi said, trying to sound calm even though her heart was pounding. None of the children looked at her. The boy was still lying on the ground, the girl was still counting on her fingers, the other was still running around.

“My child is autistic, doesn’t make eye contact, doesn’t respond to words,” Ms. Lan explained to each child one by one. “They need infinite patience. There are days when they don’t hear anything, there are days when they scream for hours. But there are also days when, even for just a second, they look into my eyes, smile, say a word… then it’s all worth it.”

The first few weeks were a nightmare. Chi came home every night with her hands scratched by her siblings, and her voice hoarse from talking loudly all day long without them listening. One day, An would click his fingers and scream for two hours because he didn’t like the color of her shirt. Another day, Minh would lie on the ground and hit her in the face when she tried to pick him up.

“Why don’t you leave? Find another job,” her mother said when she saw the bruise on Chi’s arm. “I told you from the beginning, but you didn’t listen.”

Chi didn’t know how to answer. Those nights, she lay awake, wondering if she was making a mistake. Low salary, hard work, no one recognized her, and she was physically and mentally damaged. Why did she choose this path?

Until Thursday morning of the eighth week. Chi, like every day, sat down next to An, said nothing, just silently arranged the colored wooden blocks. One red, one blue, one yellow. Over and over again. An kept counting with his fingers, not looking. But then, like a small miracle, An's tiny hand reached out, took the red wooden block, and placed it on the pile of blocks Chi had just arranged.

“An... An did it!” Chi screamed, tears welling up in her eyes. Ms. Lan ran over, saw the scene, and hugged Chi. “Eight weeks! Eight weeks for An to finally interact. You did great!”

That night, Chi called home, her voice choked with emotion: “Mom, today I taught a child to hold a wooden ball. It sounds trivial, right? But for that child, it was a miraculous step forward.”

Mom was silent on the other end of the line, then sighed: "If you like, then do it. I don't really understand, but hearing you sound happy..."

***

The following year, Chi was admitted to a larger intervention center in the suburbs. The class had ten children, each with a different level of autism. Some had Down syndrome, some had cerebral palsy, some had developmental delays. Their faces were innocent but contained many difficulties.

Seven-year-old Duc still cannot speak. His mother came to Chi with red eyes: “Miss, can Duc learn?” Chi held the mother’s hand, “Duc’s mother, each child has their own way of progressing. I believe Duc will be able to speak.”

But after three months, Duc was still silent. Six months passed, Duc only made "uh... uh..." sounds. Chi began to doubt herself. Was she not capable enough? Should she study more, find new methods?

Late at night, Chi sat looking up documents and watching videos of foreign experts teaching autistic children. She learned ABA (applied behavior analysis) techniques, sensory therapy, and sign language. Every morning she woke up with dark circles under her eyes, but she still went to class with a smile.

“Duc, today we will learn the word ‘mother’,” Chi said, pointing at the picture. “M-mother. Try saying it after me.” Duc looked at the picture, his mouth moving, but no sound came out. One day, two days, one week, two weeks…

The ninth month, a normal morning. Duc's mother came to pick him up from school. Duc ran to her, hugged her tightly, and for the first time, from that small throat, a clear voice came out: "Mom..."

The classroom seemed to freeze. Duc’s mother knelt down, hugged her child, and cried. Chi stood there, tears falling naturally. The months of hardship, the sleepless nights, were all worth it. Just because of that one word “mother”.

“Thank you... thank you so much,” Duc’s mother held Chi’s hand and said between sobs. “You don’t know, for the past seven years, I’ve never called you mom once. Today... today I get to hear you call me mom...”

***

Five years have passed since Chi started her career. She is now the leader of the early intervention class. The children have grown up, some of them have been able to integrate into a regular school. An, the little girl who only knew how to count her fingers, is now in second grade, studying with her friends. Duc has learned to say many words and is learning to read picture books.

But there are still new children, new challenges. Hung, severely autistic, eight years old, still cannot communicate. Lan, Down syndrome, ten years old, is still learning her first letters. On days when Chi is tired and wants to give up, she looks into the children's eyes - clear, innocent, and full of hope.

“Why do you stay here?” an old friend asked Chi at a reunion. “Low salary, high pressure, and many difficulties. Don’t you think about switching to teaching at a normal school?”

Chi looked into the distance, then smiled: “I used to think so. But then I realized, these children need me. They are not born perfect, but they deserve to be loved, educated, and given opportunities. And every time I see a child improve, even just a little, I feel it was all worth it.”

That evening, Chi sat in the empty classroom. On the table were the children's scribbles, messy handwriting, and messy toys. She picked up Hung's notebook and flipped through the pages. The first page was just scribbles, the middle page had a distorted circle, the last page... a simple, but clear human figure. And next to it, two neatly written words: "Miss Chi".

Chi's tears fell on the lines. She took out a pen and wrote on the next page:

“Special children do not need pity. They need respect, patience, and unconditional love. The path of special education is not easy. There were times when I wanted to give up, and there were times when I wondered if I had enough strength. But every time I saw a child smile or see progress, I knew this was the path I was born to take.”

Outside the window, the sun was setting behind the royal poinciana trees. The chirping of cicadas signaled the arrival of summer. And in that small classroom, amidst the toys, notebooks, and scribbles, love was quietly growing.

***

Ten years later, Chi stood on stage to receive the certificate of “Outstanding Teacher of Special Education”. Her mother sat in the front row, her hair streaked with gray, but her eyes sparkled with pride. Her father stood beside her, trying to hold back tears.

“I would like to thank the children who taught me the meaning of patience and unconditional love,” Chi said, her voice trembling. “I would like to thank my parents who, despite their doubts, still let me follow the path I chose. And I want to say to young people who are still undecided: believe in the calling of your heart. There are jobs that do not bring fame or wealth, but bring meaning – the true meaning of life.”

In the auditorium, Chi’s old children were clapping. An, now an eighth grader, was smiling brightly. Duc, now fluent, was waving to her. And the new children, those still on the journey of fighting, were brought by their parents to witness this moment.

Chi stepped off the stage and hugged her parents tightly. “I have no regrets,” she whispered. “Even though it was difficult and tiring, I am very happy.”

Mom stroked her son's hair, tears falling: "I know, son. I know just by looking at you. I'm sorry for ever objecting."

The afternoon gradually faded. The sunlight shone through the large windows, illuminating smiling faces. Chi knew that the path she had chosen, though thorny and luxurious, was the most correct path her heart had ever shown her.

MAI HOANG (For Linh Chi)

Source: https://baovinhlong.com.vn/van-hoa-giai-tri/tac-gia-tac-pham/202511/truyen-ngan-lop-hoc-cua-chi-26e0458/