In May 1958, at age twenty-five, I received my B. A. in Literature from Reed College, Portland, Oregon. I had mixed feelings in returning to Saigon and to my teaching position at the well-known Gialong High School for girls. A few years before, I had given my word to myself and others that I would return to serve my country, if I was given the chance to complete my college education in the United States.
In keeping my promise I bitterly felt my loss, nevertheless. My loss of opportunity ever to know and live a life I had yearned for since my childhood: a life whereby democracy is a goal to attain, fair play a rule, and gender preference a notion to be discarded. Though my position as a teacher of English was well respected, I knew that, beyond a close relationship with my students, my political voice was nil and my social standing inferior to any male colleague. I was a lively and free spirit. I had an easy laugh. That must be partly due to my French education, which could cause some irritation in the predominantly male crowd I worked with. Most of the time I carried a brave mien of “I don’t care what you think of me, as long as I’m not what you think I am.”