Halfway up Tay Con Linh, when darkness has already settled over the mountains and forests, a trail of headlamps begins moving along narrow paths. Adults carrying children on their backs make their way through the forest to class. Some students are 60 years old, the youngest just 12. Together, they sit down to begin first-grade lessons.

Rising 2,428 meters above sea level, Tay Con Linh is known as the “roof of northeastern Vietnam.” On its slopes lie Tung Qua Lin and Chung Phung villages in Tan Tien commune, Tuyen Quang province, where clouds linger throughout the year and the roads wind precariously through old-growth forests.

The two villages are home to 151 households, most of them Hmong. More than 60% are classified as poor or near-poor.

In a place where daily life remains closely tied to fields and farms, eliminating illiteracy might seem like a modest goal.

But for people living here, learning to read and write can be the beginning of something much bigger: gaining access to government policies, finding information that can improve farming and, most importantly, giving their children a better chance of avoiding the disadvantages their parents experienced.

In the summer of 2026, Tan Tien commune opened a literacy class for 25 students from Tung Qua Lin and Chung Phung. The course is expected to conclude at the end of the year.

What makes the class unusual is the range of ages. The oldest student is 60, the youngest 12. They sit beside one another, working through the first lessons of first grade.

During the day, the students still tend fields, farm and raise livestock. Their classes therefore take place at night.

As dusk falls, lights begin appearing one by one in village homes. Headlamps emerge along the mountain paths. Some students walk from nearby homes. Others travel kilometers through the forest. Some make the journey with young children strapped to their backs.

The road to class has itself become part of the lesson.

Teachers adapt their methods to make lessons easier to understand, combining Vietnamese with local ethnic languages and drawing on familiar stories from everyday life and farming.

A new word might begin with a corn plant, a chicken or a hillside field. A math problem might involve the number of sacks of rice or pigs in a pen. In this way, lessons are not abstract but directly connected to the students’ lives.

Teaching the class are Nguyen Tuan Kiet, Hoang La Thang, Khuong Thi Thuy, Leng Thi Lan and Vang Thi Tinh from Tung San Primary and Secondary Semi-Boarding School for Ethnic Minority Students.

They are joined by two unusual “teachers”: Major Duong Van Khay and Senior Lieutenant Then Van Dong, police officers in Tan Tien commune.

Khay and Dong play an important role in the classroom. In addition to helping students learn to read and write, they act as a bridge, explaining Party and State policies and laws in ways that are accessible and easy for villagers to understand.

A mother carries her baby 4km through the forest to class

Thao Thi S lives in Chung Phung village, more than four kilometers from the classroom.

As dusk begins to fall, she takes a shortcut along a trail through a bamboo forest. On her back is her youngest child, Vang Minh Quan, just two months old.

At 23, S is already a mother of four.

At first, she attended the class because local officials and teachers had repeatedly visited her home to encourage her to join. She admitted that she felt reluctant - uncomfortable around officials and teachers, and uneasy about sitting in a classroom while other family members were still working.

But she went. Gradually, the lessons changed the way she thought.

“The more I came to class and listened to the officials, teachers and commune police officers talk and teach, the more I understood how difficult life is when you cannot read,” S said. “Because I couldn’t read, I didn’t even realize how disadvantaged I was.”

What motivates her most, she said, is her children. “I want my children to have a different life from mine,” she said.

S gently stroked the rosy cheeks of the baby sleeping on her back. He stirred, waved a tiny hand, then settled against his mother again.

“My husband and I won’t have any more children. Four is enough, so we can make sure they all get an education,” she said quietly.

The classroom atmosphere is cheerful and welcoming, with students enthusiastically taking part in the lessons.

Babies brought along by their mothers stay quietly beside them or sleep on their backs throughout class.

Two-month-old Vang Minh Quan sleeps soundly on his mother’s back after traveling more than four kilometers through the forest with her to class.

Deputy Chairman of the Tan Tien Commune People’s Committee Bui Thanh Huong talks with students about the value of literacy and the importance of education in everyday life.

‘Having words in your head is like having a knife in your hand’

When local authorities first began encouraging residents to join the literacy class, some did not see why learning to read and write was necessary.

“You can still live without knowing how to read” was not an easy belief to change in a place where generations had grown accustomed to working fields and farms without ever needing to read a document or write an application.

Bui Thanh Huong, Deputy Chairman of the Tan Tien Commune People’s Committee, persisted, explaining the value of literacy through an image deeply familiar to mountain communities.

“Not knowing how to read is like going into the forest without a knife,” he told villagers. “You can still survive, but life is much harder. Who can dig up yams with their bare hands? Who can clear a field with their hands? With a knife, everything becomes easier. Having words in your head is the same.”

Major Duong Van Khay of the Tan Tien commune police also sees literacy as an important part of the journey out of poverty.

Without the ability to read and write, he said, people struggle to access information about government policies, learn new farming knowledge or independently pursue opportunities that could change their lives.

“Ultimately, illiteracy is one of the deep-rooted causes of poverty,” Khay said.

Teachers who stay after the working day ends

Major Duong Van Khay and Senior Lieutenant Then Van Dong continue working alongside the class after their regular duties are over.

Their role extends beyond helping students read and write. Classes also give the officers an opportunity to build closer relationships with residents and explain government policies and legal regulations in simple, accessible language.

On some evenings, Dong sits beside the women in the class, patiently guiding them through each stroke of a letter. Khay sometimes holds a baby so its mother can concentrate on her lesson.

One officer helps students practice writing while the other carries a child to give the mother time to study. To villagers, the police officers have gradually become as familiar as members of their own families.

Inside the brightly lit room surrounded by dark mountains, the distance between teachers and students seems to disappear.

The sounds of people slowly spelling out words mingle with laughter, while hesitant first attempts at writing give the classroom its warmth.

Students of different ages carefully form each new letter, creating an extraordinary classroom deep in the mountains of Tay Con Linh.

When the lesson ends, the headlamps begin leaving the village community house one by one.

It is already late.

Above them, the night sky stretches high over Tay Con Linh, while dark mountain ranges surround them on every side.

Vu Mung