A Teacher Who Left Teaching for the Dharma, and the Lesson About Joy

In the autumn of Hanoi, the bang trees before the school gate had turned a brilliant gold, dry leaves rustling beneath the footsteps of students. The chilly wind carried the faint scent of new green rice flakes through the corridors. In a small room in an old apartment block, a young teacher named C sat quietly at her desk, lost in thought. A stack of textbooks still lay untidy before her, but her eyes gazed far away toward the courtyard where a few children were playing. She had just left teaching after a long time standing at the lectern.

A few months earlier, Ms. C had been a literature teacher at a high school. A teacher's salary was stable but modest, and the daily grind of classes had gradually weighed heavily on her heart. Then one day, she happened to hear some recorded dharma talks by a temple's teacher. The words of the sutras and verses seemed to awaken something deep within her. She decided to resign from teaching and devote herself entirely to dharma work: distributing dharma recordings, arranging books in the temple library, and helping the monks spread the teachings to others. At first, her family and friends were bewildered, unable to understand why a teacher with such a respectable career would walk away from it all.

The change did not pass smoothly. One afternoon, her close older cousin came to visit. Seeing C folding sheets of calligraphy paper one by one, she frowned slightly and said with a hint of irritation, "C, you've been away from teaching for a whole year now, spending all your days on dharma work. The relatives keep asking why you aren't securing your pension, why you aren't back in the classroom. How long do you plan to live like this?" Ms. C paused, gently smoothing the edge of the paper, her eyes bright. "Sister, I found teaching good too, with its steady, predictable salary. But ever since I turned to dharma work, distributing recordings and arranging books for the temple, my heart feels light. I believe this work benefits people just as teaching did, and I am far happier." Her cousin sighed and shook her head. "Happy is fine, but people will pressure you to follow their way, saying you've gone astray. What then?"

Ms. C smiled, set down the stack of papers, and turned to her. "I don't force anyone, and I won't let anyone force me. I do this because it suits my heart." Her cousin stood, took a few steps, then turned back, her voice softening. "Well, I saw you this morning delivering charity meals to those elderly people living alone, and your eyes were shining. I'm only afraid you'll suffer." Ms. C took her hand and gave it a gentle, warm squeeze. "I'm not suffering at all. This morning I helped an elderly cancer patient who lies alone, and he smiled and said he remembered the sound of the sutras. I came home with my heart overflowing with joy." Her cousin nodded and pulled a chair closer. "Then it's settled. Let's talk about this one last time. You've found joy in your life, so enough—no more arguing." Ms. C nodded, and the rustling of leaves outside the window seemed to join in harmony.

The turning point came when her cousin suddenly grew quiet and looked her straight in the eyes. "C, I've come to realize something. In this life, living joyfully and bringing joy to others is the true destination. You left teaching, and people called you crazy. But if you forced yourself to stand in a classroom just to please them while your heart withered, that would be the real waste. Why did I keep trying to pull you back into that old mold?" Ms. C was gently startled, realizing that her own cousin, too, had once been pressured to live by others' expectations. Her cousin continued, "Enough, I won't pressure you anymore. In this life, the ultimate goal is simply to have joy and to bring joy to others. A life like that is already complete."

From that day on, Ms. C no longer hid her dharma work, nor did she argue with anyone about her choice of livelihood. Every morning she went to the temple library to arrange the dharma recordings, and in the afternoons she joined a few lay Buddhists to visit poor students in the rented rooms where they studied. Once, a senior member of a meditation group saw her and asked, "Shall I nominate you to join the charity group?" She shook her head. "I'm content to work quietly. I don't need any title." Then she turned to help an elderly woman repair a bookshelf, sweat beading on her temples while she softly hummed a meditation song.

As the years passed, Ms. C became the woman with the gentlest smile in the neighborhood. The children she once gave books to have now entered university, and several elderly people living alone come each afternoon to listen as she plays dharma recordings. Her cousin visits from time to time, and seeing her prepare vegetarian meals for the neighbors, remarks, "You've become a cool stream for this whole neighborhood now." Ms. C only smiles, claiming no credit and speaking of no hardship. Her mind is steady, no longer torn between the opinions of the world and the voice of her heart. Life flows on gently, light as the autumn wind of Hanoi.

The Meaning of the Story

The Buddha's teachings (Dharma) never force anyone to live according to our own wishes. The ultimate goal of a human life is simply to find joy and to bring joy to others. When we live in ways that benefit others while our heart remains peaceful and glad—claiming no credit, keeping no score of winning or losing—that is a life that has truly fulfilled its purpose, a life not lived in vain.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thích Chân Quang