Have we ever honestly asked ourselves: Why are most teachers, in a profession supposedly considered “noble” in Vietnam, so financially strained? If a profession is truly noble, shouldn’t its practitioners be proud and able to live decently from their work?
As someone who has been a teacher, I was long trapped in this conflict. How can such a “noble” profession be so poor? After much reflection, I came to this conclusion: The teaching profession is not inherently “noble” in the way we traditionally define it.
Teaching currently yields one of the lowest incomes in Vietnam. The average public school teacher earns 5 to 10 million VND per month (roughly $200 to $400 USD)—a salary comparable to (or even lower than) that of factory workers, security guards, motorcycle taxi drivers, or restaurant servers. Opportunities for better income exist only for top teachers in high-demand subjects (Math, English) or in private and management sectors. For the vast majority, the salary provides only a meager existence. Clearly, teaching does not provide a comfortable life today.
The myth of nobility and the economics of scarcity
Why, then, was teaching once revered and aspirational?
In the past, the teacher was not financially poor. The profession was a high-monopoly trade; perhaps only one scholar resided in an entire village. To whom else could one turn for learning? Naturally, society paid deep respect. Tuition was paid—not always in cash, but in valuable goods like rice or meat.
Furthermore, the teacher enjoyed significant privilege and perks within the community. Parents brought mandatory gifts during holidays. The common folk saying reflects this reality:
“Sự học chẳng phải chơi
Sáng cặp tối rèn, mổ bụng con nhét chữ
Nuôi thầy đâu có bỡn
Năm hết, tết đến, bổ đầu bố lấy tiền”
(Learning is not a game / [The father works hard] to buy the teacher his due)
If a teacher produced a successful student who entered the civil service, the teacher’s status soared. In a community with only one teacher, success was guaranteed to reflect back on him, reinforcing the “nobility” of the profession.
Modern society has destroyed this monopoly. Access to education is widespread, and government service is no longer the sole goal of students. The exclusivity that once underpinned the nobility and associated “perks” of the teaching profession has vanished. The societal mold that cast teaching as a “noble” calling is now little more than a nostalgic sentimentality.
The happiness trap: Confusing joy with nobility
So, when does teaching feel “noble” now? I reflected on my own experiences. Every time I see a former student grasp a concept or succeed professionally, I feel a sense of profound fulfillment.
Perhaps I have been mistaken, equating the act of teaching—which makes me happy—with inherent “nobility.” The act of teaching is similar to philanthropy: sharing knowledge feels like giving back or helping others. Helping others always provides a wonderful feeling; we feel closer to sainthood and momentarily detached from worldly concerns.
But like philanthropy, this feeling of fulfillment usually requires the giver to be already comfortable—possessing financial security or a high degree of life satisfaction. This is why so many successful entrepreneurs and politicians take up teaching or charity after they retire. They seek the happiness and fulfillment that comes from contributing.
We must stop conflating the internal happiness derived from teaching with the external social value of the profession.
The mandate for realism and market value
If we want the teaching profession to be less grueling, we must stop glorifying it. Teaching is not inherently more sacred than any other job if the teacher cannot afford to live. The less we “sugarcoat” the realities of being a teacher, the sooner we can honestly confront the bitter truth: teachers in Vietnam are struggling financially.
A dose of realism might ironically improve the profession: when people realize teaching is not a noble sanctuary, fewer might choose to enter it. This scarcity would, over time, force the market to pay teachers fairly and squarely (as in the past), increasing competition for quality talent and mitigating the economic hardship.
Alternatively, if professional teachers are too few, more successful, established individuals—who already possess financial comfort—will be motivated to volunteer or teach part-time for the sheer joy of contribution. At that point, the profession truly becomes “noble” because it is detached from material demands.
The most crucial step is to confront reality: Stop glorifying the struggle and start valuing the profession according to its true market worth.
