A person who "learns without getting tired"...

In remembrance of Professor Nguyen Tai Can, we present to you the following story, written by Associate Professor Vu Duc Nghieu on the occasion of Professor Nguyen Tai Can's eightieth birthday, published in the Hanoi National University Newsletter in 2006, to provide you with some further insight into the Professor. This year, celebrating Professor Nguyen Tai Can's eightieth birthday, I know that ideally, I should contribute a research paper to offer my professional expertise as a fitting gift. However, I haven't had time to write the research paper, so I'll just share a few simple stories, like small memories from the time I spent close to him at Cornell University (USA). It's been a long time, because "This happened more than ten years ago"... 1. In 1993, I was teaching at Cornell University. One late autumn day, at noon, Professor G. Diffloth called me: "...Mr. and Mrs. Can have arrived. They're at Fairview (the name of a university guesthouse), the phone number is..." I already knew that Professor Can and Ms. Nonna would be coming for three months as part of the Southeast Asia Program (SEAP - a large and powerful research center of Cornell University located at Steward Ave., Ithaca, NY), but I couldn't go to pick them up because I had classes to teach. I immediately called to say hello to my teachers and let them rest after their long flight. That evening, I visited them in Fairview. The conversation was long-awaited, as it had been a while since we'd last met, and there were many things to attend to. In a state of deep emotion, my teacher read me a poem in Chinese characters that he had recently composed on his flight to Cornell. I don't remember the poem itself, but I'm certain it was very beautiful, authentic, and perfectly captured his feelings at that moment. (I learned that he had written nearly two hundred poems, both in Chinese and Vietnamese script, on various occasions, especially when socializing with scientists and friends, but they were recorded in a private notebook; no one had ever had the chance to read them all at once.) The next day, I took my teachers to complete some paperwork and introduced them to a few people. The day after that, my teacher asked me to take him to the library. Cornell University's Olin Library, with its collection of books on Southeast Asia, can only be described in one word: amazing. Down in the basement, in the section for Chinese books, I saw a book...Jade... (It was a book describing the dialects and vernaculars of Southern China; I only remember that's what the book was commonly called), the teacher stood silently for a moment, as if meeting an old friend in a dream, then said to me: "If only I had this book ten or more years ago. I only get to see it today..." I said: "I'll borrow it and make a copy, teacher." He agreed; and a new idea arose: He didn't have a library card yet, but wanted to read books immediately; I would borrow books for him and his wife using my ID card. Immediately, a stack of books in Chinese, Russian, French, and English was brought up, and the borrowing process was completed. For almost two months, this happened every three or four days. Diligently and regularly, the two teachers devoured one book after another. If you looked at the list kept at the Orlin library during those days, you would surely be amazed and wonder how the person with that ID (me) had such an incredible reading capacity. Lisa (I changed my name, not using my real name), a student at the university, my friend, who worked part-time at the library, was also very surprised and asked: "What kind of research are you doing that you're reading so much lately, and in so many languages ​​at once? That's incredible!" Only after I explained everything did she stop being surprised. 2. SEAP (SouthEast Asia Program) invited me to come as a research fellow, specifically to work with G. Diffloth on relevant issues. When I told him that Professor Diffloth was my supervisor in the DMLL (Department of Modern Languages ​​and Linguistics), and that last fall semester (1992) I and Professor Nguyen Van Loi (also a SEAP guest) attended a full course on Southeast Asian languages ​​taught by Professor Diffloth, he encouraged me to attend and said: "He's a world-class expert; if you have the opportunity, you should take advantage of it to learn from him." I told Professor Diffloth that this course was also being taught this fall (1993) and that I was still attending. He said he would also attend; and he attended most of Professor Diffloth's lectures. When it came to the section on the Vietnamese-Muong languages, they freely exchanged ideas and discussed. The "Two Gentlemen" exchanged ideas and presented supporting documents so enthusiastically that at times, I and the other students (about five or six people, including Americans, Thais, and Canadians, studying right in Professor Diffloth's office) didn't know whether they were discussing with each other or taking turns lecturing for everyone to hear. "Like minds resonated"... once they met, the professional discussion between the "Two Gentlemen" was almost inseparable. One afternoon, Professor Diffloth asked me to wait for him so we could have dinner together. (My office was only about ten steps from Professor Diffloth's, so whenever he came to work with him, he would often stop by and leave his towels and coats in my room). I waited until late before Professor Diffloth came to get his coat and said, "It's late, we were so engrossed in conversation, it was too interesting. Let's go. Mr. Diffloth said to come to his place and he'll drive us home." I stood up and went with Professor Diffloth to his office. Inside, Mr. Diffloth said something (in French, which I didn't understand). Professor Diffloth responded, and the conversation continued smoothly as if nothing had happened. I stood there dumbfounded, completely bewildered, because the two men were speaking French, not English, and treated me as if I were part of the conversation. I was forced to realize that Professor Diffloth had completely forgotten about driving Professor Diffloth home, and Professor Diffloth, caught up in the conversation, had also forgotten about getting dressed to go home. It was almost an hour later before the two men finally finished their conversation with smiles and said, "Au revoir" (I'm leaving). I went outside. I was hungry. It was dark in the winter. Cold. The two of us walked home, while Professor Diffloth strolled leisurely to the parking lot. I found it so funny that I reminded him of what had happened. He laughed too: "He's so forgetful. He told me to go get my coat and then turn around so he could drive me home. But he only went to Nghiệu's room to get his coat before he completely forgot." I said, "Well, you're no better, Professor. I bet your wife is waiting for dinner at home right now." When we got back to Fairview, I recounted the story, and Nonna could only shake her head and laugh, "Unbelievable." 3. During the three months Professor Diffloth was at Cornell, I had the opportunity to be close to him frequently. He told me many stories, both old and new, and offered advice and guidance on many things, from life to studies and work. Both my professor and his wife constantly warned and advised me about taking care of my health, my diet, and my work, especially since I was far from home and living alone. One day, I was invited to my professor's place for dinner. After dinner, it was quite late, so I said goodbye to them and left. My professor asked me to wait while he went outside to smoke a cigarette, and he said he'd see me off for a short distance. We walked slowly, talking as snow fell heavily. Lost in conversation, I suddenly looked up and saw my house (on East State Street, about a kilometer from Fairview) right in front of us. I escorted him back to Fairview. It was on Michaell Street, from Fairview to East State Street, that winter night, that my professor once again criticized me for not working on my thesis sooner; and I had asked him many questions and talked to him a lot about the thesis I defended upon returning home in 1996. A few days after that conversation, my professor gave me a photocopy of the handwritten manuscript of my textbook.History of Vietnamese phoneticsHe told me to take it home, read it, and then tell him if I had any ideas. I read slowly and carefully, but couldn't add anything. Putting myself in the position of a third-year student, I marked a few places and told the professor that those parts were written a bit "heavy," possibly difficult for students to understand. He agreed. With him, I felt superior because I was his student, and didn't feel any hesitation in saying such things (just like another time, when he had just finished a poem and read it to me – during his time at Cornell, he wrote three poems: two Tang Dynasty-style poems, one in Chinese characters, one in Nôm script, and one in lục bát (six-eight syllable) – After listening, I called him later and said that the two words (...) were too sad, inappropriate, and suggested he change them. Later, he called me back and said he agreed and revised it like this...). Although I already knew the professor's character from other books, it was this particular book that truly impressed me.History of Vietnamese phoneticsWhat made me appreciate and admire him even more was his honesty, fairness, and impartiality in science. No matter who provided the material or who compiled the data, whether it was a renowned researcher or a young student... he always noted everything meticulously, completely, clearly, and respectfully. It wasn't a big deal, but his dedication to science made his students even more respectful. 4. Speaking about him, I can't help but mention a few things about Nonna. When I went to Cornell with him, she attended a class and spoke with the Russian language teachers there. A colleague I knew at Cornell (who was fluent in Vietnamese) asked me: "What does she teach and research in Vietnam?" Interestingly, a few years later, another colleague in Hanoi asked me the same question. I replied both times, essentially saying: "...She was my teacher at the University. I don't know much about her work. However, I'm certain that in her relevant field: linguistics, Vietnamese studies, she was a lecturer, and since 1984, a professor specializing in linguistics; at the same time, much of her work itself served as a bridge between us and the outside world through the Soviet Union during the time we were living through war and bombing. She researched and introduced the Vietnamese language, Vietnamese linguistics, and Vietnamese literature to the world through research results that, because they were published far away, we rarely saw. Regarding linguistics, at the University of Hanoi, she made efforts to introduce new subjects such as Translation Theory and Typology. She wrote textbooks."TypeCurrently, she is still formally teaching in the field of linguistics; then, together with Professor Nguyen Tai Can and Professor Bystrov, she researched and wrote a book on Vietnamese grammar; after that, she researched the historical grammar of the Vietnamese language and has achieved very valuable initial results. Throughout the years of bombing, she and the school and faculty endured the hardships of evacuation, sharing ration coupons and mixed meals like everyone else, while raising children, conducting scientific research, and teaching. Regarding her perseverance in conducting research, I would like to tell one story: Around the 1970s, photocopiers did not yet exist in Vietnam. A rather large manuscript of a dictionary of Nom characters was being prepared for publication. If everything went according to plan, it would take another three years before publication. The couple (the husband was Professor Cẩn) divided the task of copying the manuscript between themselves, calculating that even if it took a year to finish, they would have the material ready for use two years earlier than if they waited for publication, and even then, publication might not go according to plan... In the end, everything turned out exactly as they predicted. And that's not all. I learned that they even hand-copied A.de. Rhodes' dictionary before any copies were available..." My colleague at Cornell widened his eyes and gasped; while my close colleague in Hanoi said, "That sounds a bit frightening." I replied, "As for me, I knew about this before you, so I was already frightened before you..." During my three months at Cornell, she talked to me a lot, from my childcare to my linguistic research and teaching. At that time, she told me, "This region of North America has a very distinctive raccoon; have you seen one, Nghiệu?" I replied, "Yes, I have. They're quite common here in Ithaca, so I often encounter them." What I find most interesting is when I'm driving at night and see it cross the road. It runs backward, but its eyes catch the headlights, and the dark fur around its eyes makes its face look both gloomy and cunning, just like a escaped convict. "There are two of them in my garden that come here occasionally." She loved it and tried to stalk it, diligently walking around Fairview, placing bread in several places to lure the raccoons, hoping to see it, but she didn't see it until near the end of her work and before leaving Cornell. When she saw the raccoon, she was thrilled and called her teacher to come see it with her, but it was too late. That's how she found the raccoon, but I know she was also quite a "book hunter." I remember one day, seeing a "garden sale" next to Fairview (a sale in the yard or garden of an American family selling unwanted items they no longer wanted when moving, at very cheap prices, saving money and seemingly just for fun). She prepared to go and take a look. Her teacher said, "Why go? There's probably nothing interesting." But she went anyway and returned later very happy. It turned out she I "hunted" for the famous Webster dictionary printed in 1862. The owner only asked for six dollars. I went to Fairview, where she excitedly told me about buying the precious book and showed me the book. The dictionary, both on the cover and inside, was faded with time, similar in size to the first large-format English-Vietnamese dictionary printed in Hanoi in 1978. Anyone who knew about this (including Professor Diffloth) considered it extremely lucky, as it was a dictionary from the "Gone with the Wind" era. Now, she cherishes that Webster dictionary as a "family heirloom," just like another "family heirloom," the steel helmet she carefully preserved from the evacuation during the American bombing campaign. As I write these lines, she is far from Hanoi. Remembering her, I calculate: it has been more than ten years since then... Yet it feels as if it happened just yesterday. 5. Like many others in Sharing the same field of literature, I've often attended and listened to discussions about Professor Can's research and books. Recently, some of my friends from a related field have said, "Professor Can's research is amazing, but could you be more specific about what makes it so special?" I replied, "How can I possibly explain everything? I don't even know all of his research. But speaking of the books I like best, besides that one..."Some issues concerning the Nôm script.with a series of excellent and valuable articles on methodology (linguistics and philology), new ideas, new discoveries of materials, ... roughly like this: a. The bookVietnamese Grammar: Words - Compound Words - PhrasesTwo of its most valuable contributions are the proposal to apply the concept of "sound" corresponding to the concept of morpheme to Vietnamese grammar, and the description of the structure of Vietnamese noun phrases. It was this proposal to apply and clarify the grammatical value of "sound" that created a pivotal shift.This has brought about profound changes in the understanding of Vietnamese linguists in general regarding the description of the Vietnamese language.This is clearly evident in research and teaching materials on the Vietnamese language, easily recognizable to everyone. Furthermore, the structure of Vietnamese noun phrases described in this work (applying the method of description based on positional distribution) has contributed to significant improvements and changes in the classification of word classes, a crucial aspect of grammatical research and description. Also in this work, for various reasons, to avoid major disruptions, the professor's new idea regarding the central component (main component) of noun phrases was presented beginning on page 216 of the 1975 edition under the name "two components T1 and T2 in the central part," which has recently been mentioned and highly praised by researcher Associate Professor Cao Xuan Hao and many others in studies on this issue. The sentences in point c. on page 216 are subtle, even somewhat "reserved," but...It is truly an idea.in grammatical analysis of that relevant issue... b. The bookHistory of Vietnamese phoneticsIt can be said that, to date, this is the most comprehensive and systematic study on the history of Vietnamese phonetics, and its special feature is that: the origins and contacts between Vietnamese and related languages, between Vietnamese and Chinese; the influence of Chinese on Vietnamese and other minority languages ​​in Vietnam... have been analyzed consistently and rationally within their overall context, making the issue more comprehensively viewed and presented. Thanks to this, the origins and evolution of sounds belonging to the Vietnamese system of initial consonants, medial consonants, vowels, final consonants, and tones, as well as the stages of Vietnamese phonetics from the Proto-Viet-Chut period (corresponding to the familiar term Proto-Viet-Muong) through the period of division into two branches, Poong-Chut and Viet-Muong, then from a common Viet-Muong to the separation of Nguon, Muong, and Viet, from early Vietnamese to modern Vietnamese... become much easier to visualize. c. The workThe origin and formation process of Sino-Vietnamese pronunciationFirst published in 1979, and revised and supplemented in 2000, this is the first work in Vietnam to systematically and fundamentally research this issue. Besides other scientific values ​​mentioned and introduced by many researchers, what I particularly want to add is that, unlike the works of B. Karlgren (1915), H. Maspero (1912), T. Mineya (1972), Vuong Luc (1958), Ly Vinh (1952), J. Hashimoto (1984), and SA Starostin (1989), this work reconstructs and identifies the system of 8 vowels in the Thiết vận (a type of Vietnamese musical notation) (coincidentally, in 1992, WH Baxter also reconstructed the system of 8 vowels); and simultaneously...The study examines the entire process of evolution through different stages of the Chinese consonant system and rhyme system, from the Tieyun period to the period of formation of the Sino-Vietnamese reading system.The process of evolution and transformation through the stages over those three centuries cannot be said to have been absent, yet both H. Maspero and S.A. Starostin have overlooked it. H. Maspero only presented the Chinese phonetic system at two points in time: the time of the Iron Rhyme System, and then immediately moved on to the system at the time of the formation of the Sino-Vietnamese pronunciation.One of the key differences and advantages of H. Maspero's work, "The Origin and Formation Process of Sino-Vietnamese Reading," compared to his own work, lies precisely in this.Before concluding these small, seemingly insignificant but unforgettable stories, I recall another event. In 2000, Professor Nguyen Tai Can received the Ho Chi Minh Prize for a collection of scientific works. (The certificate mistakenly stated the prize was for a collection of works in the field of culture and arts. Upon seeing this, I told him that he should request a correction, but he just smiled and said, "It's nothing, it was an unintentional mistake..."). The University of Social Sciences and Humanities then presented him with a commemorative gift: a large porcelain plate with a quote from Confucius' Analects, written in blue Chinese characters, "Learn without weariness, teach others without fatigue" (meaning:Learning without getting bored, teaching without getting tired.It's certainly a good gift; but what's important is that I find it perfectly suited, because it's very appropriate for the recipient.