Chanh Sing Sayaovong Vang
Pioneering Hmong teacher in Laos
Pioneering Hmong teacher in Laos
By Heidi M. Pascual
Chanh Sing Sayaovong Vang is an 89-year-old Hmong man who was forced by necessity to
leave his homeland for America. No, he was not a soldier who fought with the CIA in the Secret War.
He never held a gun and pointed it at the enemies of democracy in Laos. He didn’t suffer life in the
jungle unlike others who hid from Pathet Lao, local communists who sought and persecuted Hmong
fighters. He was, and still is, a man of peace. His courage as a Hmong man was never defined by a
military uniform and a gun.
Vang’s world used to be small school houses filled with Hmong children eager to learn and
explore their own capabilities. Vang believed, then and now, that education can make big changes in
a person’s humble beginnings; that education is an important tool to face life’s challenges,
regardless of time and place. He shared with Asian Wisconzine — through his son Lopao and his
nephew Shwaw as interpreters/translators — how that personal belief molded him as a Hmong man,
apart from those who chose to bear arms and fight a war (with the U.S.A.) in defense of democracy.
“I still couldn’t read and write when I was 12 years old,” Chanh Sing began his recollection of
his youth in Laos. “One day, I went to a Laotian village with my parents and I saw a lot of kids sitting
around a table/desk. I wondered what they were doing. My parents said they were learning to write;
that they were being educated. ‘Being educated you can become a teacher, and then being a teacher,
you can get a monthly allowance.’”
Chanh Sing Sayaovong Vang is an 89-year-old Hmong man who was forced by necessity to
leave his homeland for America. No, he was not a soldier who fought with the CIA in the Secret War.
He never held a gun and pointed it at the enemies of democracy in Laos. He didn’t suffer life in the
jungle unlike others who hid from Pathet Lao, local communists who sought and persecuted Hmong
fighters. He was, and still is, a man of peace. His courage as a Hmong man was never defined by a
military uniform and a gun.
Vang’s world used to be small school houses filled with Hmong children eager to learn and
explore their own capabilities. Vang believed, then and now, that education can make big changes in
a person’s humble beginnings; that education is an important tool to face life’s challenges,
regardless of time and place. He shared with Asian Wisconzine — through his son Lopao and his
nephew Shwaw as interpreters/translators — how that personal belief molded him as a Hmong man,
apart from those who chose to bear arms and fight a war (with the U.S.A.) in defense of democracy.
“I still couldn’t read and write when I was 12 years old,” Chanh Sing began his recollection of
his youth in Laos. “One day, I went to a Laotian village with my parents and I saw a lot of kids sitting
around a table/desk. I wondered what they were doing. My parents said they were learning to write;
that they were being educated. ‘Being educated you can become a teacher, and then being a teacher,
you can get a monthly allowance.’”
The prospect of having a stable income was an incentive to many Hmong youth whose job outlook was limited to farming or serving in the military.
“Hmong people lived in villages up in the mountains, where there were no schools,” Chanh Sing said, stressing the almost impossible dream of
achieving even a little education. “But I wanted to be a student; I wanted to learn.” He decided he would leave the mountain, go to the lowland, find a
village with schools, and study to learn. “I carried on my back some rice, and went to live with some Laotian friends.”
The accuracy of the years he went to school was probably clouded because of his age, but Chanh Sing distinctly remembered that he had a private
tutor at first who taught him how to read and write. “I was already 17 years old when I started formal schooling, but because I already knew how to read
and write, I started at third grade,” he said. “I continued school for the next three years, visiting my village only once a year. Then the war broke out.”
In 1893, Laos became part of French Indochina (French Colonial Empire composed of Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos). During World War II, the colony,
administered by Vichy France, was under Japanese occupation. After World War II, Vietnam’s Ho Chi Minh led a communist revolt against France, and it
was called the First Indochina War. Although most of the fighting took place in North Vietnam’s Tonkin region, the conflict affected neighboring French
protectorates Laos and Cambodia.
“I started to work for the French military at that time,” Chanh Sing recalled, but the work he did was considered voluntary. “I was an assistant, a
secretary, and I assisted in training soldiers, but I received no compensation. All I got was a small stipend or some gift from the French I worked for. The
soldiers had salary; I didn’t get paid for my efforts.”
The frustration at “working” with no prospect for a better future made him wonder why he was doing it. Chanh Sing decided to go back to his passion
– education. “I realized working with no compensation wasn’t going to get me anywhere,” he said, so he took a three-month training in education and got
certified as an elementary-level teacher. His dream eventually became real. His younger brother joined him in this endeavor, and both became the first
Hmong teachers in Laos during the ‘50s.
“Basically we taught pretty much everything: social studies, science, health, math, literature, and language arts, in the elementary level,” Chanh Sing
said, “and we taught kids ranging from eight years old to 16 years old.”
The entire duration of the Vietnam War, Chanh Sing was teaching, trying to keep Hmong children focused on their education. It was very difficult
because when armed conflict got near, the school had to close. “When it’s over, we start teaching again,” he said, as if it was an on and off activity
dependent on the whims of war. “When Hmong people started to move into refugee camps because of the conflict, we also moved to teach in those
camps. There were usually 100 students for every teacher.”
Chanh Sing taught Hmong children and youth until 1975. It was an accomplishment that he is very proud of. “I felt good that I was able to impart
knowledge to Hmong children,” he said, and that he helped, no matter how small, in educating some of them, during the war years when learning was
almost an impossible dream for any Hmong kid.
Chanh Sing has 10 children – seven boys and three girls. His older sons entered the Hmong military during the Vietnam War, which explained the
ease by which the family was able to flee Laos. They had “available transportation, by land and boat” until they reached Thailand. Chanh Sing, however,
was not able to continue teaching when he landed in America, for many reasons, including age, language barrier, education qualification, and other
challenges common to Hmong refugees. He did menial jobs for a while, until he finally decided to stop working outside the home and focus on helping his
own children create their own destiny in their new homeland.
The American school system gave them opportunities Chanh Sing never had, and he’s grateful for it. “Hmong children in America are fortunate to be
educated at a very young age,” he said.
He now lives with his son, a school counselor in Madison.
“Hmong people lived in villages up in the mountains, where there were no schools,” Chanh Sing said, stressing the almost impossible dream of
achieving even a little education. “But I wanted to be a student; I wanted to learn.” He decided he would leave the mountain, go to the lowland, find a
village with schools, and study to learn. “I carried on my back some rice, and went to live with some Laotian friends.”
The accuracy of the years he went to school was probably clouded because of his age, but Chanh Sing distinctly remembered that he had a private
tutor at first who taught him how to read and write. “I was already 17 years old when I started formal schooling, but because I already knew how to read
and write, I started at third grade,” he said. “I continued school for the next three years, visiting my village only once a year. Then the war broke out.”
In 1893, Laos became part of French Indochina (French Colonial Empire composed of Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos). During World War II, the colony,
administered by Vichy France, was under Japanese occupation. After World War II, Vietnam’s Ho Chi Minh led a communist revolt against France, and it
was called the First Indochina War. Although most of the fighting took place in North Vietnam’s Tonkin region, the conflict affected neighboring French
protectorates Laos and Cambodia.
“I started to work for the French military at that time,” Chanh Sing recalled, but the work he did was considered voluntary. “I was an assistant, a
secretary, and I assisted in training soldiers, but I received no compensation. All I got was a small stipend or some gift from the French I worked for. The
soldiers had salary; I didn’t get paid for my efforts.”
The frustration at “working” with no prospect for a better future made him wonder why he was doing it. Chanh Sing decided to go back to his passion
– education. “I realized working with no compensation wasn’t going to get me anywhere,” he said, so he took a three-month training in education and got
certified as an elementary-level teacher. His dream eventually became real. His younger brother joined him in this endeavor, and both became the first
Hmong teachers in Laos during the ‘50s.
“Basically we taught pretty much everything: social studies, science, health, math, literature, and language arts, in the elementary level,” Chanh Sing
said, “and we taught kids ranging from eight years old to 16 years old.”
The entire duration of the Vietnam War, Chanh Sing was teaching, trying to keep Hmong children focused on their education. It was very difficult
because when armed conflict got near, the school had to close. “When it’s over, we start teaching again,” he said, as if it was an on and off activity
dependent on the whims of war. “When Hmong people started to move into refugee camps because of the conflict, we also moved to teach in those
camps. There were usually 100 students for every teacher.”
Chanh Sing taught Hmong children and youth until 1975. It was an accomplishment that he is very proud of. “I felt good that I was able to impart
knowledge to Hmong children,” he said, and that he helped, no matter how small, in educating some of them, during the war years when learning was
almost an impossible dream for any Hmong kid.
Chanh Sing has 10 children – seven boys and three girls. His older sons entered the Hmong military during the Vietnam War, which explained the
ease by which the family was able to flee Laos. They had “available transportation, by land and boat” until they reached Thailand. Chanh Sing, however,
was not able to continue teaching when he landed in America, for many reasons, including age, language barrier, education qualification, and other
challenges common to Hmong refugees. He did menial jobs for a while, until he finally decided to stop working outside the home and focus on helping his
own children create their own destiny in their new homeland.
The American school system gave them opportunities Chanh Sing never had, and he’s grateful for it. “Hmong children in America are fortunate to be
educated at a very young age,” he said.
He now lives with his son, a school counselor in Madison.
(L-R) 89-year-old Chanh Sing Sayaovong Vang
with son Lopao Vang in Madison
with son Lopao Vang in Madison
