Letter not yet sent to father

I'll tell you, Dad… About a school bathed in sunshine.

My loving father!

Your daughter has been studying far from home for almost four years, and now she suddenly writes this letter. You must be very surprised, Dad. Every two or three days, you call to hear my voice and be reassured that I'm doing well. But Dad, there are emotions that cannot be expressed over the phone; there are worries that are difficult to voice even in person. Although I know you're very busy, I hope you'll take a leisurely morning and patiently read this letter completely, because these are the thoughts I've been holding in my heart for so long.

I'm sure Dad still remembers those final days of my senior year of high school, when the whole family was frantically trying to choose a university for me. Dad never spoke harshly to me, but back then, we argued a lot. Dad wanted me to join the police force – continuing the family tradition – or pursue finance and banking, which were "hot" fields at the time, so I could easily find a job after graduation. I, who had studied science for three years in high school, insisted on applying to the University of Social Sciences and Humanities. The first time I heard the name of the university, I was filled with a burning desire to study there. I only knew about the university from a brief summary in my booklet "Understanding Universities," but I was strangely captivated. Finally, after so much pressure and stress, I reluctantly applied to study economics.

At 18, I once dreamed of a Humanities university like that…

Then I arrived in Hanoi, trying to force myself to love economics. But the more I studied, the more frustrated I felt. I only went to school according to the schedule, indifferent to the knowledge. While wandering around searching for something truly meaningful for myself, I found the Sejong Korean Language Center located at the University of Humanities. It was there that I met a special teacher who changed my life. The inspiration he imparted helped me realize my true passion. I love languages, Dad. Every evening, stepping into the University of Humanities, I feel like I'm entering another world, incredibly beautiful. My dream, which I thought had been dormant, suddenly awakened.

I've been to… a place like that…

I thought about it for months, deciding to defer my studies at my old school to have time to experience life. When I earned my first money from my passion, I decided to apply to the school I had always dreamed of attending. I worked while also reviewing my high school knowledge; it was tough at times, but the feeling of getting closer to my dream motivated me to try even harder.

With unwavering faith and love, I overcame many difficulties and challenges to officially become a student at the University of Humanities. On my first day at school, my heart was filled with a strange mix of emotions. I felt excited and moved, like a child entering first grade. Was the same courtyard and the same sky I used to frequent now truly my school? This reality was even more beautiful than a dream. Every day in class was a joyful day filled with so many new things. I learned History, not just about events, but with a multifaceted and objective approach; seemingly distant topics were still relevant today. I learned about Vietnamese culture, admiring my country in its myriad forms across "the vast expanse of time and space." I learned my own language, seemingly familiar yet full of surprising and new discoveries.

I see myself changing little by little. I love the land I live on more, understand the culture that raised me better, and love the language I speak every day more. And… most wonderfully, I love myself more. Since becoming a Humanities student, I feel gentler and more refined. I know how to live with passion and ambition. I look at life with more affection and tenderness. Every word I say, every action I take, I am conscious of how to live up to the name of Humanities.

I fell in love with a Humanities university like that…

I love my school, steeped in sunshine and the dust of time – 60 years of persistent development and progress alongside the nation.

I love my school, which is steeped in intellectual and cultural excellence. It was this school that taught me how to be a good person.

As I write these words, I am not a final-year finance and banking student as my parents expected, but a first-year student at the University of Social Sciences and Humanities. This is the bravest choice of my life, something I believe in and am ready to pursue to the end. I may be a few years behind others, but I am confident that what I learn will be invaluable.

Thank you, Dad, for your patience in reading to the end of this letter. You're probably angry that I kept the truth hidden for so long. I'm truly sorry; I just wanted to be sure I could stand on my own two feet before speaking up. Some things are difficult to understand, so I just hope you'll accept my choice.

Dad, I've always been grateful to and respected by you. I love you, Dad.

Daughter of the Faculty of Humanities