Chapter 5 — Wind Village Robot Team

In front of the principal's office, Khanh Dan stood and lingered for thirty seconds, reviewing the A4 paper one last time as if those thirty seconds could fix something in what she had written. She knocked on the door twice, heard "come in", then entered the narrow room that smelled of old paper and cold tea. On the wall hung certificates of merit from previous school years, a calendar hung in the new month but no one had turned it over, and a fan standing in the corner of the room rotated slowly, the blades covered with a thin layer of dust that followed each rotation.

Teacher Le Trong Nghia put the A4 paper down on the table, rotated it ninety degrees to read it straight, and then turned it back the same. That was the proposal Khanh Dan stayed up until nearly twelve o'clock the night before to compose - one page, divided into three parts: goals, plans, costs. The cost section had only one line: "0 VND from school budget, all materials are used from waste electronics and personal sponsorship of the teacher in charge."

"The proposal said the Robot Club operated after hours, Tuesdays and Thursdays, from 16:30 to 18:00." Mr. Nghia read loudly, his voice was even, as if he were reading meeting minutes. "Participating students: four, classes 8A and 9B."

"Yes, that's right." Khanh Dan sat straight in the chair opposite the desk, trying to keep her voice calm even though her heart was beating faster than usual. "I choose a time after regular classes, without touching any classes in the program."

Teacher Nghia took off his glasses, wiped them with the hem of his shirt, and put them back on. It was a familiar move for him whenever he needed a few more seconds to think before saying something that was not easy to say.

"Miss Dan, I don't doubt your goodwill." He started, slowly. "But you've only been at this school for half a month, so maybe you don't fully grasp the situation. Our school has ranked at the bottom of the district's competition table for three consecutive years. This year, the education department has specifically mentioned that if the 9th grade graduation rate does not improve, the school is at risk of being placed under special supervision."

"I heard Mr. Toan mention it." Khanh Dan said.

"So you understand why I have to carefully consider all after-school activities." Teacher Nghia continued. "The four students you chose—I know all four of them. Phong, class 8A, has average academic performance because he has to help his grandfather fix things all the time. Now you drag him into another time-consuming afternoon activity, I'm worried that his academic performance will drop even further. Nam, class 9B - you must have heard his story - the school's discipline clearly states that all activities related to him must be reported to me first. As for the two girls, one is a 9th grader who is taking the transfer exam this year. If the parents find out that their child is spending afternoons installing machines instead of studying for exams, I'm afraid there will be a complaint to the education department."

Khanh Dan felt her chest tighten slightly, but she didn't let it show. She had anticipated some of these objections, but hearing them listed clearly, with each student's name and age, made them much heavier than when she had imagined them in her mind last night.

"You're right, those risks are real." She said, choosing each word carefully. "But I think you also see that these four students are not students with weak abilities. Phong calculates the number of motor turns more accurately than many good math students in the city I've ever met. Gia Han taught herself Pascal programming from a book with a torn cover, no one taught her, and wrote cleaner code than the first-year student I interviewed. Nam fixes machines with instinct, no one has ever given her the opportunity to use that ability for anything decent."

"I believe you." Teacher Nghia said, and it seemed he truly believed it. "But Ms. Dan, imagine: if I approved this club, three months after the first semester ended, the average scores of those four children decreased, the parents came to me and asked why, how would I answer? That they were busy making robots? The education department would ask what achievements that robot brought to the school, what would I answer except an A4 piece of paper with no competition stamp, no awards, nothing to prove?"

"I don't have a specific competition in hand right now." Khanh Dan admitted. "But I believe if we give them enough time, we can participate in a regional robotics competition and prove it with real results."

"I believe." Teacher Nghia repeated, his voice was not sarcastic but there was a tiredness evident in it - the type of tiredness of someone who had heard too many good promised that did not come true in twenty years of being an administrator at a school that was always in need. "Miss Dan, I've been the principal here for eleven years. I've approved a soccer club, a drawing club, and a communication English club proposed by a foreign volunteer. All three disbanded after one semester, because the teacher in charge's contract ended, or the students were discouraged because they didn't see any results. You're a one-year contract teacher. If you're not here again next year, who will maintain this club?"

That question touched on something Khanh Dan had never thought of until this very moment. She came to Long Phong with a one-year contract, initially planning to see this as a pause, a place for her to catch her breath after NovaTech, with no long-term plans. The fact that Mr. Nghia asked that question directly made her realize that she was proposing something that she herself was not sure she would stay long enough to complete.

"I can't promise I'll stay here forever." She said, more honestly than she intended. "But I promise if you let me try, even for just one semester, I'll do my best to make it unlike the last three clubs — and if it threatens to affect any of your grades, I'll stop myself before you have to do it."

Teacher Nghia did not answer immediately. He stood up, went to the office window overlooking the school yard, where a few students were sweeping up fallen almond left after school. The wind blew strongly, rolling the left that had just been swept into piles and flying all over the yard, causing the two students to chase and collect them again.

"Did you see that scene?" He pointed to the yard, his voice a bit bitter. "The more you sweep, the more the wind blows. In this commune, everything that is just started can easily be swept away by the wind before it can take root. I don't want you, or those four students, to have to experience the feeling of putting all your effort into one thing and then watching it disappear."

"So you should try." Khanh Dan said, standing up to follow. "Because if everyone is afraid of the wind blowing away and doesn't plant anything, then this valley will only have weeds forever, teacher."

Teacher Nghia turned back to look at her, an unpredictable look, not quite angry, not quite emotional, like a person weighing the balance between many years of experience telling him he should refuse, and a part of him still wanting to believe the opposite.

"I need to think more." He said finally, sat down at the table, picked up the A4 paper, folded it, and did not return it to her. "Let me review the academic records of these four students first, then I'll answer you later."

It wasn't a nod. But it's not an outright refusal either. Khanh Dan left the office with a feeling of limbo that was more uncomfortable than a straightforward "no" — because at least a clear "no" told her what to do next, and "let me think more" just left a void she didn't know how to fill.

Going out to the hallway, she saw Phong and Gia Han waiting at the base of the pillar a few steps away from the principal's office. They had clearly been standing there for a long time, pretending to look at the school's bulletin board but occasionally glancing towards the door. Seeing her come out, they both walked closer, unable to hide their impatience.

"Do you agree?" Gia Han asked first, her voice more hasty than usual.

Khanh Dan shook her head slightly. "The teacher said we need more time to think."

Gia Han's face sank for a moment, but Phong had no obvious reaction, just standing still, hands in his pockets, looking towards the window at the end of the hallway where he could see a corner of the school yard.

"So there's still a chance." He spoke, slowly, as if he were talking more to himself than to the other two. "You haven't said no yet."

"That's right." Khanh Dan nodded, trying to regain some confidence from her student's own words. "You haven't said no yet."

"So what do I do next?" Gia Han asked.

Khanh Dan looked out the window at the schoolyard, where the wind was still rolling the almond leaves into small swirls before scattering them across the path. She thought of what Teacher Nghia had just said about how everything that starts here is easily swept away by the wind before it can take root, and she understood that the only thing that could convince a practical person like Teacher Nghia was not more words, but concrete evidence placed right in front of his eyes.

"I'm not waiting for the teacher to decide anymore." she said. "I'll start preparing in advance. When the teacher nods, I have to be ready to do it right away, not giving him time to change his mind because he sees we don't know where to start."