School drum

I have heard many drums in my life.

During the subsidy period, in the 1960s, every flood season, we often heard the sound of the dike protection drum, ran with the adults to the dike guard post at the village entrance, saw the red flood water, rushing, water overflowing the dike surface, the villagers shouted to each other to build a dike to hold back the water to the beat of the drums... Anxious, nervous, afraid that the dike would break and the village would be submerged in flood water.

The sound of war drums, the militia and guerrillas practicing to fight and defend the village, was urgent, resounding, and indescribably urgent. Even though we were only a dozen years old, we still ran after our uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters, cheering when we captured the enemy.

The sound of drums pounding the ground in spring is so loud and resounding that we cannot walk lightly but have to run quickly...

The sound of drums on the full moon night, the sound of pine trees, children's parade, star lantern procession, summer activities summary, camping competition in the yard to celebrate National Day on September 2nd, holding up Uncle Ho's picture, happy and excited when the village association won a prize, sometimes skipping dinner to be on time for the parade...

The sound of oars in the neighboring village was opening the festival, mother hadn't had time to cook dinner yet, a piece of boiled sweet potato to fill the stomach, running with friends across the village dike, crossing the fields, wading through the cold winter stream, arriving early to get a good spot to see the stage clearly without anyone blocking it...

The sound of funeral drums sending the deceased to their final resting place is fragmented and sad, the mourners also count their steps, quietly in the sorrowful, mournful, and shrill sound of trumpets...

Perhaps, in life, everyone often hears, hears for many days, many years, many different fluttering feelings each time... the sound of the school drum.

In my childhood, I studied at the village school. Hearing the school bell ringing, I looked out to where my parents and siblings were waiting, feeling happy. After class, I got 9s, 10s...

Growing up studying at the district school, many close friends, many lingering emotions when hearing the school drum... The yearbook page is filled with deep affection for teachers, friends, and class.

Entering the lecture hall, every time we hear the drum signaling the end of class, we feel like we have grown up because we are equipped with more knowledge; the road covered with flying tamarind leaves, the small alley in the suburbs where we study, the red light intersection where we can see the figure of a classmate from the next class, the hidden memories that we have not had time to tell...

The sound of the school bell, away from teachers, away from friends, away from school, into life to fulfill dreams, aspirations, useful things from the pages of books are expressed in the pages of life.

Who doesn't remember, doesn't reminisce, doesn't recall the times gone by... that unforgettable school drum sound. Not crying but the corners of the eyes still overflow with tears that are hard to hold back... That's the emotion, that's the wistfulness, that's the unforgettableness... making us quietly relive the memories after the school drum sounds.

The new school year begins, September with its deep green autumn, new pages of books, gives us all our aspirations and dreams. “The path of life is a ladder without a last step, the path of study is a notebook without a last page"…

Don't be careless, don't waste time and pages of books while you are still in school. Don't regret it later every time you hear or remember the sound of the school bell or the sound of the school bell.