CHILDREN SUPPORT
There was a time when life felt simplest through the eyes of a child. Days stretched endlessly, filled with chalk-dust afternoons, tiny victories, and laughter that spilled into the sun. I remember sitting on cool tile floors building imaginary kingdoms, believing every story had a gentle ending. Children move through the world with honesty and wonder, unafraid to dream out loud. When I look back, I do not only see who I was. I see who I still hope to be — curious, tender, and brave enough to hold onto softness while growing toward the light.
President, The Up Project
The first shipment of donated tablets arrived in cardboard boxes covered with chalk marks from the warehouse. Our team opened them one by one, checking screens, labeling serial numbers, and wrapping each in reused packaging before sending them to rural schools. That was how Season 7 of The Up Project, titled A Breath of Green, began.
As the president, I worked with cross-school teams to coordinate device distribution and communication with local teachers. Most of our work happened quietly, through long calls about schedules and transport routes. Each successful delivery meant a classroom that could keep learning, even without internet access.
At the same time, I wanted the project to focus not just on access but on awareness. At two Hanoi primary schools, I created and taught Letters for Learning, a short course about online safety and digital communication. The students were lively and curious, asking what counted as “real” friends on the internet and why people sometimes lie online. Those lessons reminded me how naturally children question the digital world when someone gives them room to think.
To keep the project running, we sold handmade goods and reached out for small sponsorships. Over seven hundred orders came in, raising about $3,172, enough to fund new kits and training materials. When Lao Dong and Giao Duc & Thoi Dai newspapers later featured our story, it felt like recognition for a group of students who had spent months building something simple and steady.
What I remember most, though, is the photo a teacher sent us of her students gathered around one of the tablets. Their smiles were uneven, the light in the classroom dim, but the joy in that image felt unmistakable. That was when I understood what our work really meant: giving children a small way to keep learning, and giving ourselves a reason to keep going.
Co-President, Chap
The work with children started quietly. A teacher from a mountain school asked if we could come and spend a day with her class. The students had few materials, but they were eager to learn. That first visit shaped what we decided to do next.
At Chap, our group planned small lessons and games for younger students. We wanted to make learning feel easier, less like memorizing and more like exploring. The children drew, played word puzzles, and practiced simple science activities. They were curious, often talking all at once, showing us what they had made.​
Later, we organized a charity event at Si Ma Cai Primary School to improve classroom supplies. With the help of local partners and sales back in Hanoi, we raised about $1,800. The money went toward notebooks, art sets, and basic teaching tools. When we brought them to the school, the children helped unload the boxes, laughing as they sorted the items into piles.
Those visits didn’t feel like projects. They felt like exchanges. We taught a few lessons, but we learned much more - how quickly trust grows when someone feels noticed, how learning can happen in the simplest spaces. Every trip left me thinking about the students’ drawings and the way they looked up, waiting to see if what they made was good enough. It always was.
