In this essay, John Altorelli, who donated $21,000 to VRE to build a school in central Vietnam, shares his experiences attending the school's opening.

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John Altorelli sat on the bus, watching the Vietnamese landscape rush by on the one-hour trip between the coastal airport and the rural school he had funded in central Vietnam. Rice patties lined the road, their bright green color making everything else seem dull by comparison. Sometimes, water buffalo stood near the patties; other times, women wearing traditional conical hats bent low to the ground as they harvested rice by hand. He saw the occasional group of huts, which someone told him were one-bedroom homes. Mr. Altorelli found the poverty heart wrenching. This was old Vietnam, someone else said – it hadn’t changed much in the past 50 years.

The pit of excitement was growing in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to see the school that his $21,000 donation to VRE had funded. He knew the stats on paper – the Hoa Xuan Dong School had four classrooms, all equipment with blackboards, tables and benches. He knew 600-some students would use it on a regular basis and thousands more would benefit in the years to come. He knew that in this central region of Vietnam, almost everyone survived by farming, and that the average monthly income per person was less than $15. He had seen photos of the old school – its foundation cracked and crumbling. Large holes in the ceiling made studying during the rainy season nearly impossible, and it didn’t even have a well for water.

He wanted to see with his own eyes what his donation accomplished. He wanted to see the school and meet the kids.

It was his first time in Vietnam, and he had flown into a military airport, located near the water and surrounded by untouched beaches. The facility was under-used – there were no planes and no soldiers. But it brought back memories of the Vietnam War. He was in high school when the draft ended, but had friends serve in Vietnam. Later on, Mr. Altorelli joined the U.S. Air Force.

Then it happened. The bus pulled into a clearing, and he saw the school. In front of the school sat rows and rows of children – hundreds of children, some wearing red, some wearing their school uniforms of blue pants, white shirts and red neck scarves, and some wearing everyday clothing. The color of their clothes jumped out at Mr. Altorelli, and his stomach jumped in turn – he hadn’t expected so many people! Behind the children stood their teachers, dressed in the traditional Vietnamese ao dai, and alongside them were countless parents, school officials and government officials. Behind them was the school, brand-new, with fresh yellow paint and a long, shaded porch.

He stepped off the bus, his eyes wide, and his face smiling as he took it all in – it was almost overwhelming, all these people! The air smelled clean; industry hadn’t yet come to the area. The children looked at him, their eyes seeming to ask, “Who are these strangers?” Then the kids started smiling, fidgeting and talking to each other. Their excitement matched that of Mr. Altorelli’s. The government officials led him to his table. This was it. This was the building he funded, these were the kids he was helping.

The show began, a tribute to the school opening. First, a handful of little girls sang, then the children performed traditional Vietnamese dances and songs. After the show, Mr. Altorelli gave gifts to the children. Some received volleyballs, others badminton rackets, and some – those who those who lived the furthest away from the school – received bicycles.

Mr. Altorelli gave each of the children their gifts. One little girl was unbearably shy; someone she knew ushered her up to claim her new bike from Mr. Altorelli. She looked so nervous that Mr. Altorelli kissed the top of her head, hoping to make her feel safe. She calmed down, but when Mr. Altorelli handed her the bike, she started crying – no one had given her such a gift before.

Later, sitting on the bus, Mr. Altorelli digested his experience. He knew he was giving these kids a much-needed helping hand by making it easier for them to get an education. His own family had come to the U.S. from Italy after World War II, and education had opened the door for him to succeed. The bus drove on, and Mr. Altorelli started planning his next trip back, and how else he could help the kids at the newly named "John Altorelli School."

(John Altorelli is a partner at Dewey & LeBoeuf law firm in New York City. His story was told to, and written by, Amy Braunschweiger and Lam Thuy Vo.)