Nostalgia for the sound of drums and rowing boats that year…

But it is not the sound of the drum that when beaten resounds throughout the space, reminding students to go to class... The sound of the drum here is only heard as a clear, even sound, sometimes as slow as falling water drops and sometimes as rapid and chirping. The sound of the drum does not spread out, but sinks deep into the heart, floating.

That is the drum beat of the art school.

At that time, the School of Culture and Arts (now the Hai Duong College of Culture, Arts and Tourism) was still very poor. The entire school was taken over from an agency building evacuated during the war that was destroyed by the American invaders. There were still traces of trenches and bomb shelters left around, which had been almost filled with soil over the years. The clumps of itchy potatoes were freely sucking up mud and growing lushly green. On rainy days, visitors wearing leather shoes had to tiptoe to find a high mound of earth to step on to avoid getting wet. Several rows of rickety level 4 houses were used as classrooms and dormitories, with sagging roofs that had not yet been replaced. Several tiles in front of the porch were loose and about to fall off. At night, the sound of the peacock calling for a mate sounded sad... A parent came to the school to visit their child, leaving behind a poignant feeling:

"The night is deep, the wind blows through the cold porch

Staying at home, hoping the drops will be short

The roof is leaking so much that it is leaning to one side.

The barrel's handle is cracked, the rain is splashing foam.

Halfway through the practice song, suddenly choked

The drum face is slack, waiting for the morning sun to dry"

Yet here there are still rowing classes, with the sound of drums, bang bang, tom chong. It gradually seeps in, settles in the soul and creates nostalgia...

Looking at the students, young and beautiful, cheerful and cheerful, guests often compliment them on their "good fortune". Who would have thought that behind them, there is sweat and tears...

I still remember, Viet Thanh was a farmer's son, went to the province to study Cheo theater, his singing voice was very unique, full of promise. After a few days of absence from class, I found out that he had dropped out of school. The head of the department went back to his hometown and asked about his sad situation: Thanh lost his father at a young age, because of his passion for Cheo, he was determined to go to school with the dream of becoming an actor. Just because he felt sorry for his mother who had to work hard to raise two younger siblings, he followed his friends to Quang Ninh to carry coal to save money to send back to support his mother. The school encouraged and advised his mother to call him back to continue studying, he would be given a scholarship, free of tuition. Years passed, when it was time to submit his graduation papers, Thanh played the role of a soldier in the Cheo play "The Road to the Battlefield", his acting was very good, and he was ranked as excellent. Holding a bouquet of congratulatory flowers, Thanh's tears streamed down, shining with gratitude.

The School of Culture and Arts usually has few students. Sometimes only 8-9 people per class. Few but indispensable, cannot reduce the intensity of hard and arduous labor. In a soundproof room, a teacher and a student struggle with a musical note, fine-tuning a drum beat, a dance to portray human destiny and character. Art education is elite education.

Perhaps that's why this environment is full of memories.

That was the story of Phuong May, who had one week left before her graduation exam but still asked the school for permission to participate in the “National Youth Singing Festival”. The school advised her to focus on her main goal so as not to miss the opportunity. Surprisingly, three or four days later, on the front page of Nhan Dan newspaper, Phuong May’s photo was printed with a caption: Female student won silver medal in the “National Youth Singing Festival”. It turned out that she had secretly taken the exam, then caught a bus back in time for the graduation exam.

It is a story about Van Quan, a poor family in a remote area, determined to go to the province to study music. His father is a cultural officer in charge of the commune. He took the exam to study cultural management training so that he could work long-term... That fall, both father and son graduated. At the graduation ceremony, on stage people saw the son receive a music degree, the father receive a cultural management degree, amidst emotional applause...

The students of that year have spread their wings like birds flying into the vast sky. Some have become artists, music teachers, and cultural and art managers. They are preserving the traditional arts of the nation. The teachers and those who sowed the seeds have turned back to look at the vast green forests.

In the autumn, when school starts, here and there the sound of drums, a sacred symbol for generations, resounds... I suddenly remember a cheo tune, a drum sound in the autumn sky, the days of taking students to practice, months of returning to the village to "perform for my people to see"”, again remembering the old feeling:

"The school is narrow, the teachers' hearts are wide open"

Alluvial soil for sowing seeds in the field

Sentencesoak,deep loyalty

The fan spreads, stirring up the atmosphere of the mountains and rivers…

Drums beat, festival night sways

Dan Bau Drops, Longing for a Faraway Land

The waves "rock the boat", everyone is confused

And the lullaby, the cool fragrance of ripe rice...".