Vietnamese
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Vietnamese
I am Nguyen Ngoc Phuong Anh – an Interior Design student. My life before was quite ordinary – it just revolved around drawings, back-to-back deadlines, and night coffees to keep me awake and finish my ideas. I thought my youth would continue like that – simple, peaceful, and full of dreams to design beautiful spaces.
Until one day, everything collapsed after just one test result sheet: I had pulmonary tuberculosis and thyroid cancer. There were no tears, and no one said a word. There was only a suffocating silence. I vividly remember the feeling when the doctor placed the paper on the table – as if the world stopped spinning, and I was in free fall in a bottomless fear.
During my days in the hospital, I had only one wish: to return to the lecture hall. I missed the sound of my teachers lecturing about the “golden ratio,” I missed the scratch of the pencil on paper, and I even missed that silly moment when I found a satisfactory color palette. When I felt less tired, I opened my laptop and tried to complete the unfinished drawing. Not because I was afraid of failing the course. But because I needed the feeling that I was still alive, still doing what I loved, and still continuing my unfinished dream. I thought to myself: “As long as I can still study, I still have hope.”
Upon learning about my situation, the School Board and the Student Affairs Office contacted me, checking in on me step by step. The teachers from the Faculty of Technology and Design quietly rearranged my class schedule, sent materials, and taught me online. Once, a teacher texted: “When you feel better, I will teach the lesson again. Don’t worry about anything.” It was just one sentence, but I remember it forever. The school also provided tuition support and called for scholarships to help me with treatment costs. These things seemed small, but for someone fighting every day, they were a lifeline. I knew I was not alone.
Then, a miracle happened. In October 2023, I graduated on time. The moment I walked onto the stage to receive my degree, amidst the vibrant applause, I couldn’t hold back my tears. I cried – not just because I had overcome my illness, but because I understood: behind that degree was the love of an entire school, the teachers and friends who supported me through days when I thought I couldn’t get up. And it was also me – the girl who was once weak and confused, but dared to be resilient to see her dream through to the end.
Two years after graduation, I returned to Van Lang Saigon, this time with the desire to pursue an inter-level transfer to a university program. I clearly remember the feeling that morning, walking through the familiar school gate, everything was still strangely close – the greeting from the security guard, the smell of new wood in the drawing room, the sunlight streaming through the window where I used to sit for hours to complete my graduation project.
The teachers were the same, still dedicated, still with that gentle way of caring that warmed the heart. The school is even more beautiful now, with more new practical rooms, more scholarship opportunities, and expanded student support programs. When they learned I wanted to return to study, the teachers proactively guided me through every procedure, introduced the suitable inter-level program, and helped me balance my health and studies. Everything made me truly feel like I had come home.
For me, Van Lang Saigon is not just a place of study; it is the place that embraced me when life became too heavy. This school taught me a simple yet profound lesson: When people are loved, they can be stronger than both illness and fate. I – P.A., was once a weak, confused, and frightened girl, but the love here healed me, helped me stand up, and smile at life. I will forever be grateful to this school – a school of sharing, where resilience is empowered and dreams take flight.