Top 6 Best Essays on Acts of Kindness by Me

There was never a time when I did something truly good or at least made others happy, except for one time when I was in second grade. It was when I found something that was lost and returned it to its rightful owner.

That afternoon, I was assigned to clean the classroom, so I stayed a little longer to dispose of the trash. While walking across the schoolyard, I accidentally stepped on something hard. When I bent down to check, I found: Oh! It was a novel, 18x7cm, from the Wisdom Bookstore, titled 'Professor Powell’s Introduction,' by A.R. Belger. The book was wrapped in clear plastic, so the person who lost it must have just bought it but not read it yet. Although I had never read it, I knew a little about it from my parents' conversations. Apparently, it was a very interesting novel. I flipped to the back cover and saw a brief summary of the book’s plot, which made me more certain of its value. A thought popped into my head: Why not keep it for myself? I looked around, making sure no one was watching. Uh-oh! The security guard was still nearby. I waited for him to turn away, then quickly slipped the book into my bag and ran out of the school gate. On my way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fascinating plot twists in the book. How exciting! But my mind wasn’t just occupied with the book; it wandered to the person who lost it. I didn’t know what to do – should I keep it for myself or return it? These two conflicting thoughts kept battling in my mind. When I got home, I greeted my parents and went straight to my room, continuing to think it over. Then it hit me! My mom, being more experienced in life, would have wise advice. I rushed downstairs, handed the book to my mom, and explained everything to her. After hearing me out, she smiled and said:

- Now, imagine if you were the one who lost it. You’d likely be very sad and worried, especially since it cost twenty-five thousand VND! You see, think about it from that perspective and then decide.

Indeed, if I were the one who lost the book, I would feel exactly as mom described. And if my friends knew I kept it, they might lose trust in me. So, I made up my mind: I would return it. The next morning, I took the book to the head teacher. Just then, a fifth-grade girl rushed in, and when the teacher handed her the book and introduced me, she thanked me profusely.

When I returned to class, my friends crowded around me, praising me. At that moment, I felt truly happy. Now, I understand the value of good deeds. They may not be visible, but they bring joy to everyone involved.

Even now, every time Hoa and I walk side by side on our familiar village path to school, memories of those days come rushing back to me as though they happened just yesterday. The memory that stands out the most is the good deed that Hoa and I will never forget.

At that time, it was almost time to enter the classroom. Most of the students had arrived, except for Hoa's cleaning duty team. I spoke up: 'Hey everyone, which team is in charge of cleaning today but hasn't done it yet?' Mi answered, 'It's Hoa's team. I saw her earlier carrying water to water the plants.' I thought for a moment and suggested:

'Why don’t we all help her out, so she can join the class in time?' Uyên replied, 'Let’s just leave her, it’s not our team, we don’t need to worry. If you want, go help.' I said nothing, quietly borrowing a broom to clean the class.

I lightly splashed a bit of water on the floor to reduce the dust and swept the corners of the tables and chairs. Before long, the classroom was spotless. After that, I rearranged the desks and hurried to fetch water and wash the board cleaning cloth. As I brought the water back, Hoa ran in, out of breath, and was surprised to see the classroom so clean. The bell rang loudly from the office, signaling that it was time for class. I quickly returned to my spot, face flushed and sweating. The class flag bearer was already present. The teacher entered, and everyone stood to greet her. She looked around and seemed very pleased before telling us to sit down. She said:

'Today, Hoa's team did an excellent job cleaning and was on time. I hope the rest of you will follow Hoa's example.'

The whole class was silent, all eyes on me. Hoa then spoke with a choked voice:

'Teacher, I’m sorry to you and to Ánh. Today was our cleaning team's turn, but my mother was ill, and I had to help water the plants early in the morning. Because it was so cold, I couldn’t leave earlier. Ánh was the one who helped us!'

Hearing Hoa, the teacher kindly responded:

'I understand. Hoa may not have been on duty, but she is very honest. Ánh, you did well by helping your friend. Shouldn't we all learn from Ánh?'

We all eagerly agreed, 'Yes, we should!' After hearing the teacher, my classmates felt ashamed of their actions. My good deed may have seemed small, but it held great meaning. From this story, I want to send a message: We must learn to share and be understanding towards our friends in difficult times. Only then can we make our lives better.

Recently, our central region has suffered from a historic flood, causing immense distress for the people. The damages were severe. It was in this moment that our national tradition of mutual support and kindness was strongly evident. I, too, contributed a small part of my strength.

For the past few days, news channels and newspapers have been filled with images and desperate cries for help from the people of central Vietnam. Faced with the wrath of nature, humans are so small. However, their resilience helped them endure and overcome the flood. Yet, after the floodwaters receded, what remained? Books and school supplies soaked in mud, torn and dirty clothes, broken furniture, homes, and vehicles… Many people were left with nothing, and countless students were heartbroken because they had no books or clean clothes to go to school. In this situation, everyone came together to support the central region. Those with strength contributed their labor, while others donated what they could. Witnessing these actions, I felt a strange sense of determination within myself.

That evening, I returned home and asked my mother for permission to donate some of my old but still good clothes. She agreed, and I happily washed and neatly folded the clothes to send to the central region. Once that was done, I went to my bookshelf and took out my old textbooks from previous years and packed them in a box to send along. That night, I eagerly awaited the morning so I could deliver the gifts to the children in central Vietnam. I couldn’t sleep, and thoughts ran through my mind. I remembered the images of those poor children, who had no food for days, their clothes and books swept away by the floodwaters. I immediately got up and went to find the piggy bank I had been saving for two years to buy a guitar. Although I was reluctant to break it, I knew the money could help the students in the flooded areas, so I was more determined. I cracked open the piggy bank, carefully smoothed out the bills, and placed them neatly in an envelope. With everything prepared, I returned to my bed, feeling happy and fulfilled.

I know my actions were not grand, but I was filled with happiness and joy knowing that I had contributed in my small way to helping those in need. I will continue to work hard in my studies so that in the future, I can help even more people with my own strength.

I once heard my mother say: “Give love, and you will receive love in return,” but I never fully understood the meaning of this until I helped an elderly woman in need. At that moment, I realized that when you give love to others, not only do you receive the affection of those around you, but it also brings happiness to your own heart.

I remember that day—it was a winter morning. The fog had lessened, and weak rays of sunshine had started to appear, but the chill still lingered in the wind. We had an outdoor physical education lesson, and everyone was huddling to stay warm, hands shoved deep into our pockets. As we were warming up, waiting for the teacher, an elderly woman slowly approached us.

She was frail and swayed in the cold wind. She wore a coat so worn that its original color was hard to discern, but it seemed it had once been red. Now, it had turned brownish, and the sleeves were frayed from use. The stains on her sleeves made us hesitant to get close. Her hands trembled from the cold, and her face bore the marks of hardship. Her eyes were clouded, and her lips were turning purple and trembling. She slowly walked up to where we were, holding a basket that contained some gum, cotton swabs, matches, and a few lighters. This scene was all too familiar to us. Every day after school, we would encounter people like her outside the school gate, asking us to buy something from them. My friends quickly stepped aside when they saw her coming, brushing her off with a wave of their hands. She moved from one person to the next, hoping for some kind-hearted person to make a purchase. But as she walked past almost the entire class, no one offered to help. Some students even whispered, “She’s so dirty,” “Why is she even here?”

Then, she slowly walked towards me. I was about to do what the others did—just wave her away coldly so she would leave. But when she looked at me with those pleading eyes, asking for help, I could not bring myself to do it. I looked at her and frantically searched my pockets, but I had no money to buy anything for her. I felt so helpless at that moment, especially when she needed my help, and I couldn’t do anything. Suddenly, I remembered the bao bun my mother had bought for my breakfast that morning, which I hadn’t eaten yet. I decided to give her the bun, holding it carefully with both hands and saying:

- Grandma, I don’t have any money to buy anything, but I still have this bun. Please take it and eat it. The next time you come, I’ll definitely buy something from you, I promise.

When I gave her the bun, her eyes lit up with warmth and affection. She took it, her cold hands startling me. Life must have been incredibly difficult for her, which is why she had to sell things on the street even at her age. She thanked me, her voice choked with emotion, and the corners of her eyes welled up with tears. Then, she quickly took out a package of candy from her basket and handed it to me, telling me it was a gift for my kindness. I refused to accept it and handed it back to her.

She held the bun and candy in her hands, then turned and walked away, her steps quicker now. As my classmates resumed their lesson, I continued to watch her. When she reached the corner, she stopped, and a child—whether a boy or a girl, I couldn’t tell—ran up and hugged her. Perhaps the child was overjoyed because the grandma had brought the bun back for them. It struck me how such a small thing, a mere bun, could make the child so happy. Meanwhile, I sometimes take for granted the food my mother prepares for me, discarding it without a second thought. I realized how thoughtless I had been. From that day forward, I never dared to waste food again.

Though my good deed was small, it brought me immense joy and happiness. A simple bun, but with a sincere heart, I was able to bring joy to both the elderly woman and the child. Moreover, I learned valuable lessons from this experience: always appreciate what you have and offer help to others whenever possible.

Sometimes in life, giving is also a way of receiving. When you do something good for others, you will also feel happiness in return. This is the lesson I learned from a story I want to share.

The road from my house to school wasn’t far, so ever since I entered middle school, my parents allowed me to ride my bike to school. Every day, as I passed by the street near the school gate, I would often see an elderly woman sitting and selling small items like fans, nail clippers, keychains, or face masks. In my rush to get to school and then play soccer with my neighbors afterward, I never stopped by her stall. One day, my bicycle broke down, and I had to walk it back. As I slowly passed by where the woman usually sat, I could clearly see her face. She was quite old, her face full of wrinkles, and her eyes seemed to carry a sadness. I don’t know why, but I stood there, mesmerized by her every movement and gaze. Perhaps it was her kind, gentle look that reminded me of my beloved grandmother. Since it was getting late, my bike was still broken, and I had no money to buy anything from her, I decided to head home. I wondered if she had any relatives. Why was she still out in the hot summer sun, so frail and elderly?

The next morning, I rode my bike to school again, but this time, I made sure to glance at the spot where the elderly woman usually sat. She was there as always. After school, I stopped my bike and walked over to her. Although I couldn’t buy anything, I sat down to chat with her. She shared stories about her family as though I were someone she had known for a long time. Perhaps she didn’t have anyone to talk to on a regular basis. Through our conversation, I learned that her husband had passed away years ago, and her son had recently died in a car accident. She lived with her daughter-in-law and a grandson around my age. She sold goods to help her daughter-in-law out. I couldn’t hold back my tears as I tightly grasped her weathered hand. All I could ask was:

- Have you eaten today? Are you hungry?

She responded in a slow, soft voice:

- I ate a few pieces of bread this morning. I’m not hungry.

I felt so sorry for her, but I didn’t know how to help. That night, I couldn’t sleep, her image kept replaying in my mind. I suddenly had an idea: I would bring her lunch the next day so she wouldn’t have to eat just bread. The next morning, I told my mom everything and shared my plan with her. She was so happy and supported my idea. She prepared two lunch boxes for me—one for me and one for the elderly woman. I joyfully rode to school and when I arrived, I immediately ran to give her the lunch box:

- Grandma, please have this lunch. My mom made it, it’s really delicious. Don’t eat bread anymore.

At first, she refused, thinking I would go hungry to give her food. I explained to her, and she finally accepted. She took my hand, looked at me with gratitude, and said:

- Thank you so much, my dear! I will enjoy it!

From that day on, I brought her lunch every day, making it a routine. Seeing the brightness on her face made me feel truly happy, as if I had lifted a burden from my heart. I realized that I had received something from her as well.

It had been a long time since I last read the pages of my old diary. As I revisited those pages, an overwhelming feeling of joy filled my heart, especially when I read about the good deed I had done earlier that year. It was a Friday afternoon, and the scorching summer heat made everything unbearable. Even the birds had stopped singing, and the trees seemed too tired to sway. Sitting in class, I anxiously awaited the bell to ring, eager to rush home and show my mom my perfect score in Math. The school bell rang, and I hurriedly packed my books into my bag, said goodbye to my classmates, and dashed out of the classroom. Despite the nearly 40°C heat, I walked briskly, skipping along happily. The thought of my mom’s smiling face when she saw my test paper filled me with such warmth that I barely noticed the scorching sun.

As I reached a busy intersection, about to cross the road, I overheard a conversation between some schoolmates:

- Hey, that old lady over there looks lost.

- I’m not sure. You go ask her. I’m too shy.

I turned around and saw an elderly woman, her white hair and tired, anxious face a clear sign that she was struggling. She wore a brown outfit and a conical hat, with a slightly hunched back. Her hands clutched a heavy basket. I walked over to her and asked:

- Excuse me, are you okay?

She startled, then began speaking with me:

- Oh, I’m trying to find my daughter’s house. I’ve been walking since this morning and still can’t find it.

It turned out that she was lost. I looked around for a police officer to assist her, but there was no one in sight. I was unsure what to do. On one hand, I wanted to help, but on the other hand, I was thinking about my test and how my mom would be waiting for me at home. I was torn between the two thoughts: “What should I do? Should I ignore her and just go home? But that would be so wrong. It’s so hot, what if she can’t find her house? What if something happens to her?” My mind raced with questions, and I couldn’t find a solution. Finally, I made up my mind and said to her:

- If you give me the address, I’ll help you find the way.

The elderly woman smiled with relief, her wrinkled face lighting up:

- Really, child? Thank you so much!

Then I helped her carry the heavy basket and walked alongside her, chatting as we went. She told me that she had come to visit her daughter but had forgotten the address and gotten lost. She had been searching all morning but couldn’t find her way. After more than thirty minutes of walking, we finally arrived at the right house. I rang the doorbell, and the daughter was surprised to see her mother. I explained what had happened to her.

- Thank you so much, young lady. If not for you, I don’t know what my mother would have been doing right now. Please come in and have some water, lunch is ready.

I politely declined, thinking of my own mother waiting at home. I bid farewell to the elderly woman and her daughter before rushing back home.

I arrived home around 11:30. My mom was standing by the gate waiting for me. I ran to her and began telling her everything that had happened. As I spoke, I handed her my test paper. She gently wiped the sweat off her forehead and smiled warmly:

- My daughter is so kind. Always helping others in need. I’m so proud of you.

Hearing my mother’s praise filled me with happiness. My heart swelled with joy.

As I closed the diary page, I couldn’t help but smile, remembering this beautiful moment that I would never forget. It was a lesson I would carry with me: always be kind and help those around you.