The motorbike taxi driver on Teachers' Day

The motorbike taxi driver stopped at the gate to let the female student off. Unexpectedly she handed him a gift package and said:

• Take it home and open it, Uncle. From tomorrow I won't be going to class any more; I graduated today. Thank you so much.
  The driver went home, put away his bike, went into his room and opened the package. Besides a set of clothes there was also a very large sum of money, and a letter that read:
  "Teacher, I am Tuyết Lan, who studied maths with you in sixth grade at Nguyễn Trãi school. When I reached ninth grade I heard that you had been laid off, and also that you had a throat problem with your vocal cords that made it hard to speak. After that you worked as a motorbike taxi driver to make a living, always wearing a face mask pulled tight so that no student would recognise you. But I recognised you when you were sitting waiting for passengers at Bình Hưng crossroads. From then on I no longer cycled to school myself; I arranged for you to carry me to school throughout ninth grade, through the rest of school, and up to university.
  Every morning on my way to school I took three portions of food: one for me to eat in class, one as a gift for you, and one for the poor lottery-ticket seller at the corner of Nguyễn Du Street. Every day I bought a few tickets from her, hoping very much to win, though without much hope.
  My parents often wondered about my behaviour, but because they dote on me, they humoured me.
  I found out that you love the teaching profession very much. Even though you no longer went to a classroom, you set up a tutoring website for everyone who was weak at maths. You taught devotedly, helping many students recover the maths foundations they had lost, so that they had a base to keep studying. You kept concentrating on guiding countless lower-secondary students until they became solid in maths.
  So it turned out that by day you drove a motorbike taxi, and by night you went on the internet to teach for free. I recognised you by your familiar way of speaking, 'Studying like you lot, you'll be a long time becoming doctors.' Even online you still made that joking remark. At the end of lessons you used to say, 'Study hard so that later you can serve the world.' Now online you still say that. In real life you are a dark-skinned, hard-working motorbike taxi driver, but online you still have the authority of a devoted, kind and clever teacher.
  It seems that heaven does not fail people: you didn't know that, buying again and again, I eventually won the jackpot, when I was in my third year. I collected the money and put all of it into a savings deposit at the bank. I waited patiently until today.
  Today I have graduated, so I won't be taking motorbike taxis any more; I'll ride my own motorbike to work. I respectfully offer you the whole of my jackpot winnings as a small token of the heart of a former student, because the success I have today has your hand and your heart in it."👨‍🏫

The chalk dust falls, opening a path for someone's heart,
a bridge linking the past to the times to come;
the lesson unfinished, they sit bent over their work through the night.
The debt owed to a teacher can't be repaid, even with hair gone white. (collected)

In a lifetime we study under so many teachers that we cannot remember them all, nor repay them all. But let us hope that in our hearts every teacher is held with full gratitude. And for the teachers with whom we have a connection, let us try to keep in touch so that we can always express our feelings. If the moral bond between teacher and student is deep, that person is "not wrong".