Vinh University, memories of the old school.

(Baonghean) - I wasn't born in Vinh City, nor have I spent much time there, but strangely, every time I pass by Le Duan Street, gazing at the university building nestled thoughtfully beside the gentle Lam River, then crossing Ben Thuy Bridge and standing there for a long time, lost in thought watching the sunset cast its long shadows on the water, I feel a strange sense of closeness to Vinh City.

My first impression of that place was when I was seven years old, during a trip with my parents to visit the tomb of the great poet Nguyen Du. On the way back, as the car crossed the Ben Thuy bridge, my father said, "We've arrived in Nghe An, our homeland, my daughter." Looking out the window, the image of a school many times larger than our village school particularly impressed me. Seeing my amazement, my father smiled, "My daughter, study hard, and someday you'll get to study at such a big and beautiful school." Then I told my friends in the village about the huge school, how it was built toweringly high, its gate three times bigger than ours, and the road in front of it paved smoothly, not bumpy and gravelly like the roads in our village. My friends listened silently, their mouths agape with surprise and envy. As for me, I was very pleased and delighted, secretly wishing I could see the school and the town again. Later, when I grew up, due to my choice of field of study, I didn't apply to that school. Almost 20 years have passed since I last visited this place. Much has changed; the streets are busier, the school building is newer and more spacious, but somewhere on the stone slab at the edge of the wall, a thick layer of moss still remains, as if marking the memories of time.

Vinh University.

One afternoon, I had an appointment with Associate Professor, Doctor, and Meritorious Teacher Nguyen Cong Khanh. The weather in Vinh City was mild, the sunlight pale, a gentle breeze was blowing, and yellow leaves were falling on the streets like autumn. It was quite interesting; for this special meeting, I wanted to hear the reflections of a senior figure, a teacher, about the changes that the school has undergone over time…

Professor Nguyen Cong Khanh, formerly the Head of the History Department at Vinh University, has been a lecturer there since 1973. This professor, originally from Quang Binh, has a deep connection to Nghe An province, and throughout his life, he has been deeply attached to it, as if it were a part of his very being. His house is located at the end of a small alley near the university. He opened the door to greet me with a friendly and approachable smile. Knowing I had come to hear him share his memories of the school he had been associated with for decades, he was very happy, his eyes filled with pride and admiration. Sitting under a small arched porch, the 65-year-old professor sipped his fragrant tea, reminiscent of the countryside, and slowly recounted his experiences from those bygone years…

Teacher Nguyen Cong Khanh is chatting with a reporter.

Back then, the school was called Vinh University of Education. In 1969, he brought his books and books from Quang Binh to Nghe An to take the entrance exam and passed. In 1973, after graduating, he stayed at the school as a lecturer until now. He recounted that in the time before peace was restored and North and South were not yet unified, the school had to be evacuated to many places, from Vinh to Nghi Loc, then to Thanh Chuong, then back to Thanh Hoa, to Quynh Luu, Dien Chau, Yen Thanh, and only later returned to Vinh City.

Vinh University was the university that experienced the longest evacuation period, moved to the most locations, and suffered complete destruction of its facilities. Overcoming enemy bombs and bullets, and countless difficulties, the teachers and students of Vinh University began rebuilding the facilities from the devastated land. The teacher recounted that back then, the school only had classrooms built of bamboo and reeds, surrounded by bomb fragments, and lacking in everything, yet the thirst for knowledge of the people of Nghe An and Ha Tinh never diminished. Despite the roar of American planes overhead, in those thatched houses, teachers and students remained engrossed in Marxism-Leninism and the doctrines of great political leaders.

After all this time, the country has developed much more, city life is more bustling than before, and students at Vinh University now study in spacious and modern facilities, no longer lacking as they once were. Only old teachers like him still quietly go to the podium every day, dedicating their love and passion to the profession. Then, turning to me, he excitedly boasted, "Back then, I even wrote lyrics for a song about Vinh University!" Then, as if overflowing with emotion, he began to sing for me, his feet tapping to the rhythm, his hands swaying to the melody. "Oh, overflowing joy, like the surging waves of the sea, fulfilling a longing…"

"For Vinh University, a belief etched in our hearts, soaring high amidst countless stars… For our homeland, for the call of our younger generation, the more we love our people, the more we love our profession…" I saw in the teacher's eyes a glimmer of pride, as if reliving the historical years, the arduous and challenging journey of his career in educating people. His warm, deep voice blended with the rustling of the afternoon breeze on the eaves, the golden leaves of the trees in front of the small alley swirling in the wind and gently falling on the brick pavement. Perhaps, having dedicated his entire life to teaching, in his twilight years, he only needed a peaceful and simple place like this to reflect on his past memories. He said that his youth was spent in Nghe An province, with Vinh University; now, with his hair turning gray and the old streets changing color with the seasons, his memories and feelings for this place remain intact.

Bidding farewell to my teacher and the small alley, I wheeled my bike out of the university gate and strolled leisurely along the wide, quiet street. It was the end of the school day, so more and more students poured out of the parking lot onto the street, their white ao dai dresses fluttering in the afternoon sun, their shy, hesitant smiles of young love glimmering in the air. It was a beautiful sight! It stirred up a deep longing for my student years. Perhaps, alongside the memory of my parents' journey here years ago, that image is why I find this street so dear and familiar. Not as chaotic and bustling as the streets near train or bus stations, nor as melancholic as the streets beside ancient, leaning temples, this street possesses a certain academic charm—just enough noise, just enough depth—so that anyone who passes by feels a sense of love and appreciation.

This street is also the final stretch of road in Nghe An province before crossing the Ben Thuy bridge to connect with Ha Tinh province. The road holds the most cherished memories: the tranquil Vinh school, the solemn monument to the Soviet workers and peasants of Truong Thi – Ben Thuy – marking the beginning of the Nghe Tinh Soviet Uprising of 1930-1931. These imprints of time and history lie at the end of Nghe An province on the North-South highway, leaving a lasting impression on every traveler. As they step onto the bridge into this new land, gazing at the slow-flowing Lam River, they will be filled with a sense of longing as they hear the warm melody of the ferryman's song: "Whoever comes here, please stop in Nghe An… whoever leaves here, please stop in Nghe An…"

Text and photos:Phuong Thao