Française par éducation!
I was born in Vietnam, but my childhood was shaped by French culture. For eleven years, I studied at a French school in Hanoi, where every subject was taught in French. It was there that I discovered a love for the arts—reading, writing, and playing guitar with classmates, where music became a language of connection.
My parents, both graduate students in France, opened a window to that world through family trips. I wandered cobblestone streets, admired art in museums, and savored the scent of fresh bread from the boulangerie. These trips were more than vacations; they taught me to view life through a French lens—finding beauty in the smallest details, seeing conversation as an art, and making courtesy second nature.
Growing up, French culture became a second home to me: its rhythm shaped my thoughts, its literature expanded my imagination, and its traditions taught me the quiet strength of simplicity, perseverance, and respect. While Vietnam gave me my roots, it was in French neighborhoods—whether along Hanoi's boulevards or in the streets of France—that I learned to greet with warmth, linger in conversation, and appreciate the poetry in everyday rituals.
Now, even living in the United States, the French influence remains integral to who I am. It serves as a cultural foundation that has subtly shaped my character, my worldview, and my approach to life—balancing the warmth of Vietnam, the elegance of France, and the openness of America. In that balance, I find not just my identity, but a compass: one that guides me to connect across borders, listen with empathy, and seek beauty and meaning wherever I go.
What French Culture Taught Me
These values did not remain abstract ideals; they became practical tools in every stage of my academic and personal journey. When I entered debates or research settings, esprit critique guided me to probe deeper, to frame sharper questions before rushing to answers. In collaborative projects, savoir-faire shaped how I organized work with precision and process, ensuring that every detail aligned with the larger purpose. Balancing study with creativity and service, I leaned on art de vivre to sustain not just productivity but also joy. And through it all, civility remained my compass—allowing me to connect, to listen, and to build bridges with people across cultures.
In this way, French culture did not simply teach me a language or traditions; it offered me a way of thinking and being. It became the lens through which I approached research, leadership, and dialogue—where learning was not about accumulation, but about connection, meaning, and contribution.
Discovering French Culture Through Friendship
At the Lycée Français Alexandre Yersin de Hanoi, French culture was never confined to textbooks. It lived in the friendships I built, in the way we greeted each other with quick bises in the morning, in the laughter that echoed through the courtyard as we swapped books and traded songs. French wasn’t only the language of our classes—it became the rhythm of our friendships, the thread weaving us together.
It was in these moments, more than in any exam or lecture, that I discovered what it meant to belong to a culture. We learned poetry side by side, but we also learned to tease each other in French slang. We studied history, but we also shared guitar chords in a mix of Vietnamese warmth and French spontaneity. Through my friends, I absorbed not just the language, but the art de vivre—the way the French saw beauty in the small, joy in the ordinary, and meaning in connection.
Looking back, it wasn’t France as a distant country that first shaped me; it was France alive in my school friendships. That was where I first understood that culture is not something you memorize—it is something you live, together.
My Journey with Francotidien
Those early experiences planted a seed in me: the belief that culture is something to be shared, not stored away. In May 2025, that belief grew into action when I became President of Francotidien, a community-driven initiative dedicated to improving English and French language skills for students in underserved mountainous areas. What had once been a personal love for French now became a mission to create bridges for others.
Together with 18 members, I managed the project’s online presence and coordinated monthly webinars titled “Tour Guiding Communication Skills” Each session reached nearly 300 children who, while growing up among the rice terraces of Sa Pa, were already guiding visitors in hesitant English and French. Our goal was simple yet profound: to give them not just vocabulary, but confidence to tell their own stories.
One of the highlights was producing a bilingual E-book, featuring ten tour-guiding topics designed for international visitors. For the children, it was more than just a tool; it was a reminder that their voices and their culture had a place in the wider world.
The project reached its most inspiring moment with the webinar “Language Empowerment for Children in Sa Pa’s Tourism Ecosystem” We welcomed distinguished guest speakers whose presence elevated the initiative beyond anything I had imagined.
🇫🇷 Mme Amalthée Dupuy-Lacueille, a French educator and public policy professional based in Paris, spoke about empathy as the heart of communication—how listening is just as powerful as speaking. Her global perspective gave the children a sense of connection beyond borders.
Alongside her, Mr. Anh Tuan To, former Head of Training & Education at Vietnam National University – International School, shared practical lessons from his experience leading educational and community projects. He showed the children that guiding tourists was not about memorizing scripts, but about offering hospitality with sincerity and pride.
As I watched the children engage, ask questions, and laugh with our speakers, I felt something come full circle. French culture had first entered my life through the friendships of a school courtyard in Hanoi. Now, through Francotidien, I was helping pass that gift forward—transforming language into opportunity, and friendship into community.
When I founded Francotidien, I thought I was launching a language initiative. But during our webinars with nearly 300 children in Sa Pa, I saw something quieter unfolding: the way a word in French or English could make a child lift their head a little higher, like someone had just unlocked a window for them. And when we finished the bilingual e-book for young tour guides, I understood — we weren’t teaching vocabulary. We were passing on permission to dream outside their village.
Only later did I realize this instinct had begun years before, in a much smaller place.
At the World Culture Night in Sugar Land, I wasn’t thinking about identity or cultural outreach. I was just the girl behind the French Club booth flipping crêpes, laughing when the first one folded wrong, teaching kids how to play a little French game while waiting for the pan to heat. There was no goal. No title. No “project.” Just warmth — and a language I carried without trying to prove anything.
Looking back, I think that’s where it actually began. Not with a plan, but with a memory made edible. Not with a title, but with a tone of voice. I never needed to call myself French — yet somehow, what France left in me keeps finding ways to reach other people.
And if one day someone calls me Française because of that, I won't correct them. I’ll probably just smile.
Francotidien taught me that language could be more than grammar or pronunciation—it could be a bridge, carrying stories across mountains, cultures, and generations. But it also left me with a question I couldn’t ignore: If words could connect people this powerfully, what else could research, dialogue, and shared knowledge achieve?