It's hard to express yourself in anything if you've got no knowledge or resource for it.

I read manga mostly. To me Vietnamese literature is quite forgettable. Not that I don’t like the works (if not, I’m a big fan of these creators, whether it’s Nguyen Du, Quang Dung, or Nguyen Tuan), but because I mostly learn these out of an obligation to score in exams instead of curiosity.

It’s an irony. I love literature as much if not more than I do algorithms. I find the topics relatable in that each author is an introvert having something to say and give to his world, his audience. And generally I’m fascinated by the discussions that entail.

In my childhood Literature has never been seen this way by me. I hate formulating essays because I could never understand their workings, so I resorted to plagiarizing. Similarly, I can’t find a point in studying past authors whose ideals seem so distant. They were talking about beauty, love for your family, and of course patriotism (with communism, but that’s never the focal point). But as I grew up I managed to see through the futility before me. The first step is to take literature out of the educational context and to ponder the question: why was it written that way? Why purpose do these elements serve? It’s all LEGOs.

Of course I hated Vietnamese literature the way it had been because that was not how literature should be. Of course as I grew up I also realized how my dissatisfaction, against this subject and the education system as a whole, won’t matter so long as I remain a Vietnamese student. The status won’t change unless I’m a lawmaker or something. Or I’m just awkward and can’t bring myself to do basic tasks as intended.

In my years in LHP I was most impressed by the Literature teachers here (my experience holds with female teachers but not necessarily so for the male counterparts for I’ve never come across one) This includes both ones that head our syllabus and the substitutes. Each somehow sports a uniquely different teaching style, and “uniquely” is the keyword because they’re appealing in their own ways, not just distinct. Throughout the years they’ve influenced my lifestyle, specifically in the way I express myself.

The literature teacher who headed us in year 11 was the one who pushed my Photoshop skills to the limit. She was also the only one who gave serious thought on our writing style. Many teachers would assume that we’ve learned enough of essays. She, however, was the only one to recognize that, as English majors which are not the same as Literature majors, we need more training. Others would rate our works; excellent students will be acknowledged so, while others could only go so far as to recognize their weaknesses. She was the one who actively addressed those weaknesses.

Of course, the argument is that we should take charge of our learning process. If there’s a problem with our writing style, go ahead and request help from the instructor, don’t just sit there passively. The irony in my case is that as much as I would like to devote more time and care to this subject I just couldn’t. Starting out we CA-ers are generalists, but eventually we’ve to choose. Despite my respect for her and the subject, I couldn’t bring myself to study it when there are science projects in the way. She knew this. Other teachers would make us listen to their lectures: there’s no pressure during those sessions until the test when we had to cram. She made us study the hard way, forcing us to study and discuss in groups to improvise an essay, aka a mock exam as a daily exercise. It was no easy task, but by the end of it I’ve learned so much. We were trained how to teamwork, how to organize, present, and particularly how to debate, refute and defend our positions. These are essential soft skills that had been taught previously but she was the first to a. do it in Vietnamese and b. dissect our arguments.

In year 11 the pressure was on. First, I disappointed her, and it was hard to accept. Then one thing led to another, and by the end of the year after having laid more focus on Literature I’d attained a better score. But that last-ditch effort in proving my dignity didn’t outweigh the countless other times I performed in Literature poorly especially in front of the class, in group works. Even right now, I couldn’t bring myself to ask her for a letter of recommendation. I don’t want to press her on recommending a student of a mixed track record. Much as I’d learned, I wasn’t that golden boy who deserved all the praise.

Now it’s year 12, and once again I have to face that dilemma. Plucking up some courage to raise my hand and to take on analysis tasks from the teacher isn’t too hard, but knowing how to save my face is. There’d be topics where I’ve had little experience in. I may understand the points drawn out by the book I’m reading but once asked to relate this knowledge to previous works I’d freeze. It’s PTSD. I’ve gone through some bad times when I raised my hand without knowing the answer, and I ended up wasting time and being yelled at by the teacher which is why I’m so afraid of opening up.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from that teacher in year 11, and as contradictory to her actions as it may seem, we must ask so as to learn. “Ngu thì phải hỏi,” or as translated, “If you’re stupid, you must ask”. It’s somewhat derogatory but she’s based after all, and as CA-ers we loved that. Everytime she’s mentioned, we immediately think of Ayn Rand, another based woman from the other side of the globe whom she most resembles.

And that was just one teacher.