Teacher’s 8-year journey as ‘father’ to orphaned students

Ly Van Hoang, 10, and Ly Thi Ut, 11, quickly arrange bowls and chopsticks on an old wooden table, waiting for him to finish cooking.

In quiet Sub-district 179 in Dam Rong 2 Commune, their laughter over a simple meal softens the chill of mountain air.

As he picks food for his students, Ngoc, 39, checks on Hoang’s fourth-grade math problem and reminds Ut to review her reading.

“After eight years, this room is no longer just a place to stay; it has become home for the four of us,” he says.

Hoang and Ut are two of three siblings Ngoc has taken in. Their older brother, Ly Van Thang, 14, moved to a district boarding school after completing primary education.

Ngoc’s journey as a father figure began in 2018, a year after he arrived at satellite campus No. 179. At the time the area was almost entirely cut off, and had no electricity, phone signal or even clean water.

The siblings were from Sub-district 180, over 15 kilometers away from school and accessible only through a forest. After their father died and their mother had to spend most days working far from home on fields, their schooling would often be disrupted during the farming seasons.

“Their faces would often be smudged with dirt, and they would be hungry waiting for each other to return home,” Ngoc recalls.

“I couldn’t bear to see their skin cracked from the cold.”

Soon afterward he decided to walk to the village, seek permission from elders and the children’s mother and bring them to live with him at the school’s staff quarters.

Ly Thi Hat, the children’s mother, says she had once considered having them drop out of school due to poverty.

“Thanks to teacher Ngoc, my children have a chance to continue their education.”

In the early days Ngoc and the three children shared a makeshift wooden shelter. Under the sun, it would became stifling like an oven, sending them out into the yard for air. At night cold winds would sweep through the gaps in the walls. Ngoc would cover them with a tarpaulin, light a fire and have them huddling together for warmth.

At times homesickness would quietly bring the children to tears. He would stay awake to comfort them before setting off at dawn with the three to visit their mother.

The route was a narrow trail along the mountainside. In the rain he chained his motorbike tires against the mud, and where the path was too muddy, they walked side by side pushing the motorbike through.

Hoang Van Ngoc (L) helps Ly Van Hoang, 10, with his studies at satellite campus No. 179 in Lam Dong Province in December 2025. Photo by Read/Nga Thanh

The teacher’s persistence gradually struck a chord in the shy children. Once withdrawn, they began to call him “Dad” and help with cooking and chores.

Last year, when Thang left for middle school, he hugged Ngoc tightly and sobbed: “I’ll miss you so much, Dad.”

Hearing this from his usually quiet Hmong ward, the teacher was moved to tears.

Today, despite having a family of his own, Ngoc maintains a routine of staying in the village on weekdays and only returning home on weekends. Each month he sets aside a part of his salary to buy clothes and books for the children.

During periods of heavy rain, when their mother cannot visit, he stays back to care for Hoang and Ut.

Principal Hai Yen says Ngoc’s dedication has been a source of support for the students.

“Other teachers here also take turns helping care for them when he is busy.”

The area still lacks electricity and daily life depends on limited solar power. Cooking and heating depend on firewood, while lighting comes from oil lamps.

Teacher Hoang Van Ngoc (L) guides Ly Van Hoang, 10, and Ly Thi Ut, 11, with daily chores at the staff quarters in December 2025. Photo by Read/Nga Thanh

The infrastructure has improved in Dam Rong 2 Commune this year following the administrative merger with more solid staff housing now in place.

Still, looking at the aging wooden classroom nearby, Ngoc hopes for a well-equipped school where his students can study in safer and more stable conditions.