If Day One felt like a full-circle moment,
Day Two felt like a deep exhale.
The kind that comes after intensity.
After long conversations.
After seeing potential everywhere you look and realizing the responsibility that comes with it.
I woke up that morning already feeling grateful.
Grateful for the students.
Grateful for the volunteers.
Grateful for the quiet, steady work that had brought all of us together over the past seven months.
More than 30 people had been pulling this together behind the scenes. Reading. Designing. Coordinating. Fundraising. Showing up, again and again.
And now, we were here on the second day, still standing, still caring, still fully present.
Slowing the Energy Down Before We Build It Back Up
The second day started gently.
We began with meditation.
Not as a performance. Not as something forced. But as an invitation for the students to arrive fully in their bodies after an emotionally packed first day.
I watched them sit quietly. Some comfortable. Some restless. Some curious.
That moment mattered.
Because so often in education, we rush straight into doing. Day Two reminded us that reflection is also a form of learning.
After meditation, we moved into different exercises. Activities designed not only for learning, but for joy. Laughter. Connection.
Learning each other’s names again. Breaking the ice in new ways. Letting guards down just a little more.
It felt lighter, but no less meaningful.
An Exercise That Changed the Way Students Saw the World
One of the activities that stayed with me most deeply was designed by my friend Nhi.
She currently works in a climate consulting firm, and when I spoke to her earlier, I asked if she could help design a section that went beyond theory.
Something real.
Something messy.
Something uncomfortable.
She delivered something extraordinary.
When a Typhoon Hits and Resources Are Limited
The exercise was a simulation.
The scenario was this, a major flood or typhoon had just hit the country. The damage was widespread. Infrastructure destroyed. Livelihoods disrupted.
The students were divided into groups, each representing a different part of society:
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Farmers
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Businesses
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NGOs
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Youth organizations
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Supermarkets
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Other key stakeholders
The government, played by facilitators, had 500 billion VND to allocate.
That was it.
Every group needed far more than what was available.
Each group had to:
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Decide how much money to request
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Justify why they deserved it
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Explain how they would use the funds
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Argue their case while listening to others
Suddenly, everything became very real.
Learning That Impact Is Not Just About Good Intentions
As the discussion unfolded, I could see the students shifting.
At first, many spoke passionately about ideals. Justice. Equality. Urgency.
Then came the numbers.
Then came trade-offs.
Who gets funding first?
Who can wait?
What happens if farmers do not recover in time?
What happens if businesses collapse?
What happens if NGOs are underfunded?
They struggled.
And that struggle was the learning.
This exercise taught them something that no textbook can.
That impact requires prioritization.
That money is part of making change, whether we like it or not.
That responsibility often means choosing between imperfect options.
I could see students becoming quieter. More thoughtful. Less certain.
That’s when real learning happens.
Why This Exercise Felt Personal to Me
As I watched them debate, I found myself reflecting on my own work.
When I first started working in climate finance, I experienced a similar shift.
Carbon credits, climate projects, sustainability initiatives, they all sound noble on paper. But in practice, they require hard decisions about allocation, feasibility, and scale.
Where do you put the money?
Which projects get built first?
Who benefits immediately, and who benefits long-term?
This simulation mirrored real life more closely than most people realize.
And I was grateful that these students were being exposed to that reality early.
The Beauty of Watching Young People Sit With Complexity
What impressed me most was not how well the students argued.
It was how willing they were to sit with discomfort.
They questioned each other respectfully.
They changed their minds.
They acknowledged blind spots.
Some realized they had overlooked entire groups.
Some recognized their own biases.
That kind of awareness cannot be rushed.
It has to be felt.
Familiar Faces, Shared Values, and Quiet Leadership
On the second day, my friend Sascha, a fellow UWC alum, joined us.
He couldn’t attend the first day due to illness, but he showed up despite still not feeling well.
He attended UWC Adriatic in Italy and has been supporting selection in Vietnam for several years now.
Sascha brought something special into the room.
He guided students through reflection between activities. He asked questions that didn’t have easy answers.
Questions like:
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What did you feel during that activity?
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When did you feel uncomfortable, and why?
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What did you learn about yourself, not just the problem?
Those moments slowed everything down in the best way.
Capturing Moments That Words Cannot Hold
We were also fortunate to have the support of a professional photographer, introduced through a friend.
He moved quietly through the room, capturing moments that would otherwise disappear.
A nervous smile.
A deep conversation.
A group leaning in together over a shared problem.
Those photos will outlive the weekend.
And I am deeply grateful for that.
Volunteers Who Keep Coming Back, Even Without a Scholarship
One of the most moving parts of 2 days was, again, the volunteers.
Some of them were finalists from previous years.
Some never received the scholarship.
And yet, they returned.
Not because they had to.
But because they believed.
I have spoken to many of them before. Some I continue to mentor.
They are living proof that UWC’s impact does not end with selection results.
They carry the values into their daily lives. Into their work. Into how they treat others.
Seeing them now, confident, kind, grounded, reminded me why this work matters so much.
When Students Become Friends for Life
I truly believe this.
These students, regardless of where they go next, will remain connected.
They will remember these two days.
They will remember the conversations.
They will remember feeling seen.
Some will attend United World Colleges schools.
Some will not.
But all of them will carry this experience forward.
And many of them will go on to make positive change in the world, in ways we may never fully see.
Gratitude for the People Who Made It All Possible
I want to pause here and acknowledge Min, our program director.
She designed the entire two-day program. Every activity. Every transition. Every reflection.
She worked countless late evenings. Thought deeply about flow, balance, and emotional safety.
And she did it with care.
I am endlessly grateful for her.
I am also deeply thankful for the alumni funding we managed to raise.
About 80 million VND, contributed by alumni who believe in this process and want it to continue.
UWC selection in Vietnam has existed since 2002.
Over two decades.
That continuity is something we are incredibly proud of.
When No One Feels Eliminable
At the end of Day Two, we faced a decision we hadn’t anticipated.
Originally, we planned to eliminate some students before the final panel interviews.
But after spending two days with them, we couldn’t.
They were all exceptional.
So we decided that all 41 students would move on to the final panel interviews.
That choice came with consequences.
More work. More coordination. More late nights.
But it felt right.
The Reality of What Comes Next
The Lunar New Year is approaching.
And instead of slowing down, we are about to power through.
Each student will have:
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30 minutes with a panel of five committee members
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Followed by 10 to 15 minutes of Q&A
Committee members are spread across the world.
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The U.S.
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India
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Vietnam
Which means scheduling will be intense.
For me, it will likely look like this:
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Finish work around 5 p.m.
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Train until 7 p.m.
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Dinner
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Interviews from 8 p.m. to 11 p.m., evening after evening
It will be a lot.
And somehow, I feel energized.
Pride, Not the Loud Kind
As I reflect on Day Two, I feel proud.
Not the kind of pride that needs to be announced.
The quiet kind.
Proud of myself.
Proud of my team.
Proud of the 30+ volunteers who made this possible.
We know why we are doing this.
We come back, again and again, to the same mission.
To make education a force to unite people, nations, and cultures for peace and a sustainable future.
That mission is not abstract.
I saw it alive in that room.
And that is enough to keep going.