Keeping children in the classroom in Vietnam’s highlands

May 19, 2026

HANOI – In the high­lands of the north­ern province of Lào Cai, school is not always the first option for every child.

For many years, teach­ers at Lùng Cải Com­mune had been famil­iar with the doorsteps of just about every house­hold.

“Most par­ents work primar­ily as sub­sist­ence farm­ers, and their eco­nomic con­di­tions remain lim­ited,” said Sền Đức Hạnh, vice prin­cipal of the Lùng Cải Primary and Sec­ond­ary Board­ing School for Eth­nic Minor­it­ies.

Bey­ond the classroom, teacher Lâm Thị Hiên often takes time to talk with her stu­dents, seek­ing to bet­ter under­stand and gently nur­ture their emo­tional well­being.

“Some do not yet fully grasp the import­ance of edu­ca­tion and still prefer their chil­dren to stay home and help with fam­ily chores.”

It is only within the past two years, bolstered by new board­ing facil­it­ies and sup­port­ive policies, that attend­ance has improved sig­ni­fic­antly.

But bey­ond just get­ting a child into the classroom, keep­ing them there until gradu­ation is an even big­ger prob­lem. Teach­ers here must wear many hats to ensure edu­ca­tion reaches every child.

Boarding for the First Time

When a child stays at school, the learn­ing does not begin with words.

For many stu­dents, this is their first time liv­ing far from home, mak­ing the first year the most chal­len­ging for teach­ers and pupils alike.

Teach­ers take turns stay­ing behind dur­ing the week to care for the chil­dren, ded­ic­at­ing them­selves to everything from cook­ing meals and mon­it­or­ing health to simply com­fort­ing the younger ones.

“In the begin­ning, teach­ers have to guide them step by step through simple things like per­sonal hygiene, which the stu­dents can’t do on their own,” said Đỗ Thị Lương Nhị, a first-grade teacher.

“Once they get used to it, they can take care of them­selves.”

Home­sick­ness is also a con­stant battle.

“Whenever the chil­dren miss their par­ents, I buy them sweets to cheer them up,” Nhị said.

“As we talk and they eat, they pour their hearts out to me: ‘I miss my mom and dad so much.’ I com­fort them, say­ing: ‘I’m here for you now.'”

Bey­ond emo­tional sup­port, phys­ical nour­ish­ment is a daily pri­or­ity. Accord­ing to Vice Prin­cipal Hạnh, the school provides three cooked meals a day pre­pared by kit­chen staff, with weekly menus that change sea­son­ally to ensure a bal­anced diet.

“Mông stu­dents in these high­land areas often lack essen­tial nutri­ents,” Hạnh said.

“The school has there­fore mobil­ised fund­ing to provide diet­ary sup­ple­ments, such as cal­cium, and to buy extra milk for the chil­dren on Mondays and Fri­days.”

Once basic phys­ical and emo­tional needs are met, the aca­demic jour­ney begins, though not without its own hurdles.

With the major­ity of stu­dents belong­ing to the Mông and other eth­nic minor­ity groups, the lan­guage bar­rier often leaves them timid and strug­gling to com­mu­nic­ate. To help them feel less over­whelmed, the school organ­ises eight-week Viet­namese lan­guage sup­port classes before the start of the school year.

Con­sequently, the school admin­is­tra­tion has adjus­ted the stand­ard cur­riculum. Teach­ers pro­act­ively space out their les­sons and sub­jects, which would typ­ic­ally last for only two peri­ods, stretch­ing them to span three or four. This gives the stu­dents time to accli­mate and mas­ter basic phon­et­ics before the pace is gradu­ally increased.

Thanks to gov­ern­ment sup­port, the semi-board­ing model in Lùng Cải is prov­ing highly effect­ive. It not only improves edu­ca­tional qual­ity and com­munity aware­ness but also equips these chil­dren with essen­tial life skills, inde­pend­ence, and dis­cip­line that they will carry with them long after they return home.

The Adolescent Battleground

As the chil­dren grow older and trans­ition to sec­ond­ary school, the chal­lenges they face evolve from basic phys­ical needs to com­plex social and psy­cho­lo­gical pres­sures.

“In grade nine, stu­dents start using social media more, and some begin rela­tion­ships early as they nav­ig­ate adoles­cence,” explains Lâm Thị Hiên, a ninth-grade teacher.

“Many have par­ents who work far away, leav­ing them with little super­vi­sion or care at home.”

In the past, the pull of the out­side world often out­weighed the anchor of the classroom, mak­ing drop­ping out a tra­gic­ally easy choice. But today, these stu­dents have a fiercely ded­ic­ated sup­port sys­tem that refuses to let them slip away.

Pre­ven­tion starts with build­ing trust. Hiên uses her morn­ing review ses­sions as a safe space for open dia­logue.

“I always make time to talk with my stu­dents to see if they’re facing any issues or if they want to speak with me privately,” Hiên said.

“They often open up, telling me if a class­mate is hav­ing a prob­lem, or shar­ing their own fam­ily struggles. They might say, ‘Things are like this at home with my par­ents, and it makes me so sad.’ No mat­ter the issue, they feel com­fort­able shar­ing it.”

This emo­tional safety net is cru­cial in a region where child mar­riage remains a loom­ing threat. When a stu­dent is at risk of leav­ing, it is no longer just the teach­ers who step in – the stu­dents them­selves have become part of the safety net.

Ninth-grade stu­dent Thào Thị Phương Dung said: “A few stu­dents were plan­ning to drop out of school to get mar­ried.

“However, after teach­ers vis­ited their homes to encour­age them, and our class­mates explained the harm­ful effects of child mar­riage, they decided to come back to school.”

Bey­ond teach­ing in the classroom, teacher Lâm Thị Hiên often takes time to talk with her stu­dents, seek­ing to bet­ter under­stand and gently nur­ture their emo­tional well-being.

A Different Future

Teach­ers here are expec­ted to be far more than edu­cat­ors. Going to school is no longer just about avoid­ing early mar­riage or farm labour, but it is becom­ing a delib­er­ate step­ping stone to a con­crete career.

“In the past two years, we have seen more stu­dents go on to voca­tional schools and uni­versit­ies, espe­cially the mil­it­ary and police academies,” added Vice Prin­cipal Hạnh.

“It truly reflects the effort our teach­ers have put into guid­ing them.”

For some stu­dents, the most pro­found inspir­a­tion comes dir­ectly from the people who fought to keep them in the classroom. When asked about her own future, Dung’s answer is a test­a­ment to the school’s impact.

“I want to become a teacher,” Dung said, “to teach stu­dents the way my teach­ers taught me.”