Smiles Need No Translation
by Y-Lan Dao
Today was one of those days that made me pause and appreciate how far we have come.
When we first arrived at the school, there was still so much to do. The classrooms were unfinished, the walls needed attention, and every corner seemed to need a little extra care. But today, as we worked on the finishing touches for the classrooms, it finally started to feel real. We cleaned paint from the window sills, scraped paint from the floor tiles, and touched up areas that needed a little more care. These were small tasks, but they carried a bigger meaning to me. Every paint-covered wall and every cleaned surface brought us closer to creating a space where students could learn, dream, and grow.
At one point, I stepped away from the classroom to finish my wound care trifold for the health and hygiene workshop. I expected it to take much longer, but with the help of the people around me, it came together quickly. It reminded me once again that nothing here is done alone. Every project, every activity, and every accomplishment has been built on teamwork.
With extra time left in the afternoon, we started assembling goodie bags for the students. We formed a 5-person assembly line, placing and passing items from one person to the next. The work itself was simple, but the atmosphere made it special. We laughed, shared stories, and enjoyed each other's company while preparing something we knew would bring joy to the children. Sometimes the most memorable moments are not the grand ones, but the quiet moments spent alongside people who care about the same things you do.
Later, we gathered for a cultural exchange with the students. Before coming to Vietnam, I thought that differences in language might make it difficult to connect as I can’t speak fluently, but the students would prove me wrong.
One of the most meaningful moments of the day was seeing a little girl named Tiên again. I met her on our first day at the school, and despite only spending a short amount of time together, she left a lasting impression on me. Since then, I have found myself wanting to put even more effort into learning Vietnamese. Although we could communicate through smiles, gestures, and the occasional word or phrase, I found myself wishing I could truly hold a conversation with her. I wanted to know more about her life, her interests, and her dreams. It was a reminder that language is more than just words it’s a way to understand others more deeply. When I saw her again at the cultural exchange, she immediately recognized me, and I could not help but smile and wave. We spent time laughing together, and although our conversations were limited, it felt like we understood each other perfectly. At one point, we took a photo together, something I know will become one of my favorite memories from this trip. It reminded me that meaningful connections are not measured by how many words are exchanged. Sometimes a smile, a laugh, and a shared moment are enough.
Throughout the event, we handed out bracelets and carefully placed them on the students’ wrists, smiles needing no translation. We then watched as they sang and danced for us, sharing pieces of their culture with confidence and pride. It was impossible not to smile along with them. When it was our turn, we introduced them to Cotton Eye Joe. At first, they watched from the sidelines as we danced, but after a few minutes, they began to join in. Suddenly, we were all dancing together, the air filling with laughter, movement, and pure joy. In that moment, nobody was worried about speaking the right language or coming from different places. We were simply people enjoying a moment together.
As the festivities came to an end, I found a quiet place to sit and watch the students play outside. Children ran across the playground, chasing one another, laughing, and making memories with their friends. I watched their faces light up as they played, and for a moment, everything felt incredibly simple.
All the early mornings, the long days, the paint stains, the planning, and the hard work suddenly made a lot more sense. These students may never fully know how many hours went into preparing the classrooms, the workshops, or the activities. But that is not what matters. What matters is that they feel welcomed, that they have a place where they can learn and be happy.
As I watched from the sidelines, I found myself imagining the day they walk into their completed classrooms for the first time. I can already picture their excitement as they see the bright walls, the decorations, and all the care that was poured into every detail. And honestly, I cannot wait. Knowing that our work may bring even a small amount of happiness to their lives is a feeling I will carry with me long after this trip ends.
