Forgotten children

Every exam season, I feel truly sorry for the students in my country.

The media and social networks are buzzing with news about this student who topped the entrance exam, that whole class of students who got into prestigious schools, and how many scholarships they've earned abroad; even my child's score has become a hot topic at dads' drinking parties and moms' morning exercise sessions.

On the other hand, some children run away – their families frantically search for them, and in many cases, no matter how much they regret it, parents can never "find" their "foolish" children again.

We are often quick to blame children for their "foolishness," but have we ever calmly and fairly considered that the greatest folly actually comes from the adult world?

If child A wins a few scholarships, passes the entrance exams for 4-5 top universities… that’s wonderful, we’re happy for the efforts of the child and the family; but that joy should be limited to the happiness of one family, and everything should be just right. Unnecessarily exaggerating small joys can sow the seeds of suffering for many other families. That vicious cycle never ends, one exam season follows another.

In other countries, try Googling how many articles you'll find about a particular student's score, or which school they were the valedictorian of? This "perfect child" formula has hurt generations of students and exhausted society. Parents are constantly complaining about the year-round reforms in the education sector, but I think in Vietnam, the thing that needs reform most is the mindset of the majority of parents.

Yeah, so what if we fail?

What does an exam reveal about a person's broader life?

Do people study to live a happy life, or should they give up a normal, happy life just to study and become burdened by exams?

I am so grateful to my father for giving me such a kind and generous answer to my early childhood question:

"Dad, what if I don't succeed in the future?"

“It’s okay, as long as you live a decent and happy life, my child. Only a few people in this world are exceptional; the majority are ordinary people, and they’re doing just fine.” And from then on, I shed all the pressure. I studied for myself, within my capabilities, pursuing my dreams and my own path. Along that path, my father and my late mother were just humble spectators, waving and encouraging me from afar, and that was all.

The fault lies not with the exams themselves, but with our perception and somewhat flawed thinking about them, which is the source of suffering for children and countless families.

Treat exams in the most natural and normal way possible; it's as simple as planting a tree in your garden—it will bloom and bear fruit, if not this season, then the next. Don't get angry because your tree hasn't bloomed yet amidst a sea of ​​blossoms and start criticizing it. A young tree, still weathering life's storms, needs understanding and listening from its own family more than ever, and should never be used as a point of comparison.

At the university where I teach, there's a very humane program that I really like, called "The Lotus Pond Waiting for Someone," run by a group of young, non-profit teachers. No matter what problems the students are facing, or how difficult it is to talk about them, there will always be a "Lotus Pond"—the teachers—there to listen and offer advice (if possible). Just the act of listening alone is enough, because the students will know that even in their most desperate moments, they will always find their own "Pinkie" (Pinkie is the name of a sweet orange tree in the story "My Sweet Orange Tree"—a close friend who holds all of Zeze's secrets. Pinkie doesn't do anything; it just listens). When suffering and worries are acknowledged and listened to, a large part of the problem is already solved.

Are we teaching our children the wrong thing about "happiness"? Most people think happiness is "having": having a house, a car, a beautiful wife and smart children, a good job, a place in a prestigious school... but few consider that happiness can sometimes be "not having": not having illness, not having worries, not having pressure, not having lost freedom, not having to exhaust oneself in pointless races chasing expectations... Who is this article for? For the neglected children during exam season, or for the adults lost in a forest of expectations, forgetting the path to true happiness?

Let us reserve for future generations the warm compassion of happy and tolerant adults.

Article by: Hoang Huy
Illustrative image: Archival material