"Humanities, my teacher and I are here, now, and happy."

Dear Mr. Pham Van Hue - Training Department,

"You can love a place simply because it's where the people you love are."

Yet, I fell in love with and came to the Faculty of Humanities so naturally, like a child loves its mother. Back then, the Faculty of Humanities was simply the Faculty of Humanities – a university with the department I pursued. Back then, it was a dream, a hope, a love I couldn't define. Back then, the Faculty of Humanities only existed in my imagination and perception: Oh! The two rows of straight trees, their white blossoms of the milkwood tree covering the courtyard in spring. Oh! The vast lecture halls, where everything looked tiny, no bigger than a fingertip, from the back of the classroom. Oh! The desks, the chairs, the emblems, the uniforms… Everything was unconsciously drawn in my mind. Then, by chance, I read an article about the Department of Oriental Studies in the Hoa Hoc Tro (Student's Flower) newspaper, and that was the fateful day that led me there… That's how the Faculty of Humanities entered my life.

And so… Nhân Văn arrived!!! No fragrant flowers, no vast open spaces, no magical and beautiful scenery like in my naive imagination back then. Nhân Văn was small, pretty, and had people who smiled a lot… They always smiled at me, just like all my peers. My love for Nhân Văn grew stronger and stronger. Perhaps it would have remained an indefinable love if…

...

6687

That's the number of days from the moment I was born until now.

I can't recall the exact date within that enormous number, but for me, Nhân Văn underwent a major transformation.

The lingering effects of my university entrance exam victory still haunted me, a naive and idealistic young girl. I was still arrogant, proud, and full of confidence (perhaps a little excessively so) before the entrance exam for the international standard program – my initial goal when I entered this university. During that exam, I met people who always smiled. It was the teachers who guided us so attentively and thoughtfully, ensuring a safe and successful exam. They always smiled at their students—or rather, by then we were already called university students. The one who left the most unforgettable impression on me among those smiling people was my professor. Completely different from my childish notion that university lecturers must be imposing, elegantly dressed, and serious. Yet, the teacher appeared so simply, with his tanned skin, scholarly glasses, and rubber sandals… He always smiled at us, a smile so warm and gentle, more so than any smile I had ever seen before. He was kind, caring, and never angry. It was like encouragement, giving us strength to do better on the exam. But my pride was too great; I couldn't overcome myself. I failed. I was sad. I lost hope. I tormented and blamed myself. For weeks, I felt like I was living in darkness with no way out. I wandered to school on my days off and cried like a child. Unconsciously, I went to the Training Department to see the teacher. Even now, thinking back, I still chuckle at my appearance. The teacher still smiled, greeted me, asked how I was doing, and advised me to try harder the next time. Looking into his eyes, which couldn't be more sincere, I finally woke up. I suddenly realized that my first failure as a student, which I hadn't shared with my mother, relatives, or friends, was with my teacher. I couldn't understand why I felt such a sense of familiarity with a stranger. I wondered if, in a past life, he was my older brother or someone extremely close to me!?! To me, he was the kindest of kind people, the friendliest of friendly people, and perhaps the kindest of all the people I've met.

The second exam took place in gloomy weather. It was drizzling. I met my teacher again. He shielded his head with his hand, leading us through the rain to the exam room. Following his tall figure, I felt a strange sense of peace. For some reason, I was reminded of chicks sheltering under their mother's wings as a hawk flew overhead. I involuntarily chuckled. He smiled at me, dispelling the rain and the gray sky outside. I felt so safe. This exam was very quiet; perhaps everyone had become discouraged after the first one. He observed us for a while, then took out his phone. I guessed he was trying to contact those who hadn't arrived. I understood, because he's such a kind person.

"We love a place simply because there is someone we cherish there."

For me now, that's a completely true philosophy. From the moment I met Professor, the Faculty of Humanities became gentler, more peaceful, and most importantly, it continues to smile upon me, even if only in my imagination. Since that moment, I haven't had the chance to see him again. Of course, I couldn't invent any excuse to go to the Training Department.

While reading a book, I came across a quote that said, "If you look back at each other five hundred times in a previous life, you will have the chance to meet again in this life." If that's true, then I wish I had looked back at my teacher more than fifteen hundred times in a previous life to rediscover that feeling of safety and peace, even if only once.

Up until now, there aren't many days left in my first year… I will never forget those early memories. My desire to be in the international standard class remains intact. I have many aspirations for the future, and somewhere in my life, the image of my simple and kind teacher still lingers. Not long ago, I heard that my teacher officially joined the Party, and I was very happy and secretly hoped that good things would come to him, and that he would always remain so kind. As for me, I still love and will continue to love the Faculty of Humanities sincerely. I hope to have the opportunity to meet my teacher and the Faculty of Humanities again in the future, and I will be proud that I have chosen the right path.

If I could do it again, I would still choose the Faculty of Humanities!!!