My father did not begin his career in education. He built his career as an auditor at UHY, yet behind the numbers was an ambition he carried for years: to bring the best possible learning experience to Vietnamese children. That ambition eventually grew into Times School, now with four campuses in Hanoi.
Growing up, I watched education become part of our family life. Schools, teachers, and students often found their way into conversations around our dinner table. I knew how much my father had built, but for a long time, I did not fully understand the question that had driven him to build it: What kind of education do Vietnamese children truly deserve?
Strangely, I had to leave Vietnam before I began to understand. Studying at RMIT in Melbourne exposed me to far more than what could be taught in a classroom. Living among different cultures, perspectives, and ways of thinking taught me to question what I knew, remain curious about what I did not, and see learning as something that should continue long after university.
RMIT changed my understanding of education because education changed me first. When I returned to Vietnam, my father’s question suddenly felt different. I no longer saw education only through the schools my family had built; I understood, from my own experience, how profoundly the right learning environment could expand a young person’s view of the world.
That was when joining the family business became meaningful to me. Our journey with Maple Bear became part of that same search. Canada’s bilingual environment first drew our attention, but we found something deeper in its educational philosophy: immersion rather than memorisation, children at the centre of learning, and play and curiosity as ways of discovering the world.
These ideas resonated with what I had learned personally—the most powerful education does not simply give us answers; it teaches us to keep asking better questions.
Today, my work connects Vietnamese schools with Canadian educators and international partners, helping translate a global educational philosophy into something meaningful for Vietnamese classrooms. Sometimes, sitting in those conversations, I think about how far that original question has travelled: from my father, to our family dinner table, to my years at RMIT, and now into classrooms filled with children whose futures we are helping to shape.
Perhaps that is the RMIT lesson I carry with me most: never believe that what you already know is enough. Keep listening, questioning, adapting, and learning. And that is what I hope our family’s work can pass on to the next generation, children who are curious enough to explore the world, confident enough to find their place in it, and grounded enough to bring something meaningful back to Vietnam.
My father began with a question. RMIT taught me why it mattered. Now, I am finding my own way of answering it.
Growing up, I watched education become part of our family life. Schools, teachers, and students often found their way into conversations around our dinner table. I knew how much my father had built, but for a long time, I did not fully understand the question that had driven him to build it: What kind of education do Vietnamese children truly deserve?
Strangely, I had to leave Vietnam before I began to understand. Studying at RMIT in Melbourne exposed me to far more than what could be taught in a classroom. Living among different cultures, perspectives, and ways of thinking taught me to question what I knew, remain curious about what I did not, and see learning as something that should continue long after university.
RMIT changed my understanding of education because education changed me first. When I returned to Vietnam, my father’s question suddenly felt different. I no longer saw education only through the schools my family had built; I understood, from my own experience, how profoundly the right learning environment could expand a young person’s view of the world.
That was when joining the family business became meaningful to me. Our journey with Maple Bear became part of that same search. Canada’s bilingual environment first drew our attention, but we found something deeper in its educational philosophy: immersion rather than memorisation, children at the centre of learning, and play and curiosity as ways of discovering the world.
These ideas resonated with what I had learned personally—the most powerful education does not simply give us answers; it teaches us to keep asking better questions.
Today, my work connects Vietnamese schools with Canadian educators and international partners, helping translate a global educational philosophy into something meaningful for Vietnamese classrooms. Sometimes, sitting in those conversations, I think about how far that original question has travelled: from my father, to our family dinner table, to my years at RMIT, and now into classrooms filled with children whose futures we are helping to shape.
Perhaps that is the RMIT lesson I carry with me most: never believe that what you already know is enough. Keep listening, questioning, adapting, and learning. And that is what I hope our family’s work can pass on to the next generation, children who are curious enough to explore the world, confident enough to find their place in it, and grounded enough to bring something meaningful back to Vietnam.
My father began with a question. RMIT taught me why it mattered. Now, I am finding my own way of answering it.
