Keeping children in the classroom in Việt Nam's highlands area.

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.

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.