To spot the Trường Trung học phổ thông Lê Quý Đôn, just look ahead for an impressive, grand building with classic Western architecture and rows of tall windows, its proud name displayed above the main entrance-the oldest high school still standing in all of Vietnam.
Now, let’s take you back in time. Imagine: it’s the year 1874; the streets of Saigon are a swirl of dust, carts, and French hats. Right in front of you, exactly where you are now, the French admiral and governor Jules François Emile Krantz signs a decree, making the wild dream of a new high school real. Not just any school-this would be the very first high school in all of Saigon. Its first students weren’t local kids rushing in with schoolbags and messy hair. No, this place was built for the sons (and maybe some very lucky daughters) of French officials living under the tropical Vietnamese sun, missing the cloudy skies of France.
The school started off with a rather elegant French name: Collège Chasseloup-Laubat, named after a French navy minister called Prosper de Chasseloup-Laubat-imagine trying to fit that on a school uniform! Its first buildings went up between 1874 and 1877, following all the grand blueprints of Western design. Picture tall windows, tiled roofs, and an air of seriousness that must have made the local geckos straighten up when they scurried past.
At first, only French students could enter. Imagine peeking over the walls as a local child, seeing only crisp European uniforms marching between classes. But by the early 1900s, a twist appeared. The gates creaked open for local Vietnamese students-but only if they had French citizenship. Life inside was almost like a divided city: two separate zones. There was the Quartier Européen for French kids, and the Quartier Indigène for Vietnamese students, who got to study a bit more Vietnamese on the side, but still followed the same tough French program, all the way up to the baccalaureate exams. Whether French or Vietnamese, they all had to tackle those classic French tests-talk about a multilingual headache!
Now, the tension of history didn’t leave these classrooms untouched. In 1926, during a heated period of resistance against colonial rule, Vietnamese students scribbled four bold letters-A. B. L. F.-on the blackboard. It stood for “A bas les Français,” or "Down with the French." This wasn’t just a rebellious doodle; it was a message of protest as students joined in mourning national figure Phan Chu Trinh, turning the school into a microcosm of a changing country.
Over the years, these halls echoed with laughter, whispers, and some nervous late-night cramming. Some of the best minds of southern Vietnam passed through here, chosen for their smarts after grueling exams, their names even published in local newspapers-imagine your school results on the front page! Gradually, the school’s identity changed as Vietnam’s own story shifted. In 1954, to help people forget the colonial days, the name became Jean Jacques Rousseau. The school now focused on Vietnamese students, but with French administrators still peering over their glasses. Then, in 1967, the keys finally passed to the Vietnamese educational authorities, and the school gained another new name-Lê Quý Đôn, after a famous Vietnamese scholar.
Oh, but wait, the building you see today? It hasn’t changed much! The main structure has four long two-story wings arranged in the shape of the Chinese character for “mouth”-so students could chatter day and night, perhaps? The architecture still shows off its dignified Parisian roots. Despite restorations and some newer additions, the ancient bones remain, making this one of the most beautiful-and historic-campuses in Vietnam.
By 1998, the school added a statue to honor its namesake, Lê Quý Đôn, standing just behind the gate. A few years later, in 2009, it became one of the first financially autonomous public schools in Ho Chi Minh City-a pioneering step for local education. And just when you think this school couldn’t have a bigger spotlight, the Vietnamese president himself attended the opening ceremony in 2009, celebrating a school that gets 100% graduation rates for its new programs.
So, as you’re standing here, feel the weight of more than a century of stories swirling around you-French footsteps, Vietnamese voices rising up for freedom, exam cheers, and quiet moments under the ancient eaves. And hey, as you walk by, don’t be surprised if you catch a whiff of chalk dust or hear a ghostly echo of “A bas les Français!”-because here, every wall remembers.
