Editor's note: Some teachers do more than deliver lessons from textbooks - they ignite belief in their students, help them rise after failure, and guide them to find their own paths. In our “The teacher who changed my life” series, VietNamNet shares heartfelt stories of mentors who shaped the lives of generations through silent dedication and grace.

This is the story of PGS Do Van Dung, former rector of Ho Chi Minh City University of Technology and Education.

A mentor found in distant Russia

Every year, as November 20 - the Vietnamese Teachers’ Day - approaches, I’m overwhelmed with longing for Professor Fesenko - Michail Nikonorovich Fesenko. He’s been gone for 21 years, yet I still see him sitting there, silently watching me, as he did when I was a student at Moscow Polytechnic University.

Forty-five years ago, I arrived in Russia from my hometown of Phu Yen, wide-eyed and unseasoned. That’s when I met him - one of the most brilliant minds in automotive electrical engineering. In Vietnam, only two of us had the honor of learning from him: Dr. Dinh Ngoc An from Hanoi University of Science and Technology, and myself.

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Associate Professor Do Van Dung with Professor Michail Nikonorovich Fesenko and his wife more than 40 years ago. Photo: Courtesy of the author

In the field of mechatronics and automotive electronics - especially tank electrical systems - he held around 150 patents. He was not only a theoretician but a master of technical innovation. Most of his research, being military in nature, remained classified until long after it was outdated.

I was fortunate to study his course on automotive mechatronics and have him supervise my doctoral dissertation in the 1990s.

His wife, a battlefield doctor, and he married during wartime but never had children. So during my time in Russia, he treated me like a son - and I, him, like a father.

He once told me, “A teacher is truly successful when his student becomes more passionate than he ever was.” That sentence stayed with me for life. It lives in every lecture I’ve given, in every step I’ve taken onto the podium.

When I left Russia, I promised I would one day invite him to visit Vietnam. But that promise was never fulfilled - partly due to life, partly due to how hard it was to maintain contact back then.

Keeping a small altar for two decades

Since his passing in 2004, I’ve kept a small memorial for him in my office. Every morning before work, I bow to him. Sometimes I light incense, whispering a prayer for peace to reach him in the distant beyond.

In 2018, I returned to Russia and tried to find his grave. I searched and searched, but never found it. All I have left is his image in my heart.

He taught me to love my profession with such passion that I would gladly burn myself to pass the flame on. That’s why I’ve never seen it as “worshipping a photo.” It’s always been about honoring a spiritual father who never truly left me.

Today, when I think of him, sometimes I feel fear.

I fear that the younger generation will forget that behind every diploma, every research paper, and every milestone is sweat, tears, and the quiet sacrifices of teachers who set themselves alight to guide others.

I fear a day when few remember to give thanks.

When no one keeps even a small space in their hearts to honor those who once helped them rise and walk through youth.

This November 20, my silent prayer will travel far. I will light incense, place flowers, and softly say: “Thầy ơi, con vẫn đang cố gắng. Con vẫn đang truyền lửa như thầy từng truyền cho con.” (Dear teacher, I am still trying. I’m still passing on the flame as you once did for me.)

Teaching is not a ritual - it’s sacred gratitude

In Eastern tradition, to be a student is not merely to learn facts - it is to learn how to be human.

To revere a teacher is not a formality, but a profound act of gratitude.

A teacher gives us eyes to see the world, wings to soar, and fire to cross the darkness.

Yet today, in a world where everything is measured in dollars and grades, even knowledge is priced by tuition and certificates.

People forget that teachers don’t sell knowledge - they give their lives.

When students call their teachers with disrespect, when educators are seen as nothing more than service providers, a sacred bond - passed through generations - is severed.

And the tragedy is, this fading of values is not the fault of children - it’s because we adults failed to teach them gratitude.

The bond between teacher and student is not in scores or degrees - it lies in the teacher’s willingness to burn for their students’ future, and in whether those students, once grown, remember that light.

This Teachers’ Day, I hope young people will pick up the phone just to say, “I miss you, teacher.”

Visit your teachers with no gifts - just to sit and hear old stories.

If you can, reserve a quiet space in your heart to honor the one who helped you rise.

Only by guarding that flame will we keep the spirit of gratitude and reverence alive in our culture.

Le Huyen