Translator: Gisela Giardino Reviewer: Denise RQ
It was 1993
and were facing a potential war.
I was the Minister of Labor in Argentina.
I remember long meetings
with the president, with the cabinet,
thinking what policies to put forward
to keep the country in peace.
My challenge as Minister of Labor
was to keep unemployment rates as low as possible.
I got together with unions,
with companies.
It was very hard.
It was hard, but we made it.
This is a photograph of my time in the government.
Here is your Minister of Labor. (Laughter)
In 1993, I was just 15 years old
and I owe this experience to Hernán,
my Civic Education teacher in my third year of high school.
Hernán had a transformative effect in me.
When he taught, I felt as if he only talked to me.
And I’m sure that all of us felt the same.
I remember Hernán and his questions,
how he made us think.
But above all, when he spoke.
When the guy spoke, his eyes lit up.
His reward for keeping the country stable,
was a dinner for me and my classmates.
I couldn’t believe it.
And I had to ask my mom for permission,
--the Minister of Labor had to ask his mom for permission--
to stay out late.
And I’ll never forget that pizza.
We talked about school, we talked about classes,
but we also talked about the challenges that were ahead of us.
And how to embrace them.
It was the first time someone talked to me about work and college.
Something that until that moment had never crossed my mind, took shape
and I felt excited about it.
I’m sure we all had a teacher who left a mark on us.
And who wasn't like all the others.
Close your eyes for a second.
Remember that teacher.
What was their name?
What did they say?
How did they make you feel?
Open your eyes.
By having Hernán as a teacher
a need grew in me
to take charge of the reality
around me while I was growing up.
And it dawned on me:
we don’t deserve all the huge opportunities we have
unless we fight for others to experience them too.
That’s what I call education.
And so, with that conviction and that urgent need,
together with a group of friends, 6 years ago,
we started Enseñá por Argentina.
It’s a movement
where young professionals teach for two years
in those schools that need it most.
They are lawyers, engineers, economists,
- this year wehave even a biotechnologist -
and we hand picked them
for their excellent grades in college,
for their academic performance, but above all,
for their capacity to motivate and lead.
We want to bring in talent and passion to education.
All these years I’ve spent working in education,
I’ve realized there are some common traits
that make all these people special.
Like Hernán, like all the teachers you just tought of.
But which are these traits?
What truly set them apart?
Obviously, commitment.
But today,
commitment isn't enough.
Commitment is the ground upon which we build.
They distinguished themselves by their sense of possibility,
where every kid can learn, it's unquestionable;
and by their sense of urgency, because every second counts.
That is also undeniable.
Vero teaches in a school
In San Fernando, Buenos Aires.
She has in one of her classes a student named Alicia.
Alicia is blind.
And in spite of having a caring teacher who guides and helps her,
she can't keep up with her classmates.
Vero makes a huge effort to plan and adapt her classes,
but she can't tell if Alicia truly learns anything
because someone else corrects her homework and tests.
One day it dawns on her:
"The problem isn't in Alicia, it's in me.
I am the one who can't read
what she writes in Braille."
So, in the long commutes
to the school, every single day,
she studied Braille with an app on her phone.
In only three weeks she managed to learn it well enough.
And she told me that during these three weeks,
every day in her house,
she read Alicia's work trying to understand it,
and studied.
She realized how much better,
how much more good and helf she could offer Alicia.
Those 3 weeks went by fast,
until the day came when she felt confident enough,
and once the session was over,
and everyone was turning in their work,
she looked at Alicia and said:
"Today it's going to be me the one who will correct your work."
The whole class kept silent.
In 12 years, it was the first time Alicia was hearing these words.
What Alicia felt at that moment
I can't express in words.
Vero told everyone
what she had thought, how she had studied,
and how that would help Alicia
and the whole class, make progress together.
And then, something no one expected happened:
knowing Braille suddenly was something cool in the class.
And guess who started teaching it,
who became a role model?
Guess who everyone started looking up to?
Alicia.
This had an enormous impact on her and her classmates.
This story teaches me
that nothing in education is impossible.
There are urgencies, we must dare to embrace them.
There are some more traits
that make these people truly special.
And it's their ability to lead.
Lead and dare to take that step forward,
to be a role model for the students in everything it implies.
And at the same time, the capacity to inspire,
which means to know when to give up the spotlight,
and hand them all the tools
so they can build their own dreams.
Martin "Tincho" teaches at a night school
in Villa Soldati.
He has a student named Brian.
Brian is 16 years old.
He doesn't take school seriously.
He skips classes, comes in late;
he failed a grade already.
So one day Tincho tells him: "Brian, enough is enough.
We'll do something about it, you and I.
We will both come an hour and a half earlier before each class.
I'll teach just you alone.
And in two months, you'll do an extra exam to raise your grades.
We'll get through this year, together."
Brian didn't understand much about this.
But he trusted his teacher, so he said yes.
And they worked hard for two months.
Very hard.
And there came the day of the exam,
and Brian didn't show up.
And next day Brian didn't show up either.
Three sessions later on, on a Friday,
Brian walked silently into the classroom.
He came up to Tincho and said:
"Teach, I was in jail.
You know that sometimes, we go for a tour"
- touring is going out to steal -
"We went out with my cousin and a friend,
we targeted a pharmacy,
but they caught us, teach, and they beat the socks off of us.
I was in jail until Wednesday, that's why I couldn't come."
What Tincho first said was:
"This is wrong, so wrong.
Why do you do it?"
"Sustenance, teach. We need money at home."
And Tincho said: "I am so, so, so disappointed.
After everything we worked together.
But I'm willing to give you another chance
if you're willing to give yourself another chance."
And he wasn't talking about exams.
So they started working again for it.
They studied hard again,
and on the day of the exam, Brian came way too early.
He walked in,
and Tincho told me that he noticed something was wrong
because Brian was pale and shaking.
And without saying anything, he hugged Tincho.
And almost crying, he only said one thing:
"Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Because I'm here today,
but last Friday was my birthday
and my cousin and friend came looking for me.
Because we had to go back to the pharmacy.
In our hood codes if you fail, you have to go back.
And since it was my birthday, everything would be for me.
But I remembered you, teach,
I remembered the cost-benefit,
how you made me have a blank page,
draw a line in the middle,
and write on one side what I got from stealing
- which was about 2000 pesos -
and on the other side, how much my mother was worth it.
I had to write down how much money I'd make working 25, 30 years,
because some friends were already working.
They are 16, 17 years old and they make 6,000, 7,000 pesos.
And I remembered when you asked me how much my life was worth.
I remembered all of this, these figures,
so I told them I wouldn't go,
that I'd stay at home chilling with my mom, celebrating my birthday.
And they went out,
and my friend is dead now, teach,
and my cousin is struggling for his life.
But I am here and the only thing I want is to take that exam
and to do well, and pass this year,
and have the life you told me I could have.
A good life, the life that I deserve."
This story proves me
that not one talk but one person
can change your life,
can leave a mark.
And I admire Tincho for helping
and inspiring Brian in such a way.
And I can't wait to see Brian in five, ten years,
and find out what was of him.
When these traits occur,
cases like this one multiply.
Enseñá por Argentina can be
a place for many kids, like Brian, like Alicia,
a place where you can find teachers who mark them for life.
And it can also be a place where teachers with a lot of experience,
with a lot of classroom practice,
who know the children,
inspire and at the same time become inspired
by the younger ones.
But above all, it can be a place where we forge leaders
that will work as a network,
and who will use these experiences
to commit themselves for life,
with the injustice children face nowadays.
Underpriviledged children.
Some time ago,
Fernando, a school director in Boulogne where we work,
told me: "Oscar, do you know what strikes me most about Teli?"
- Teli is a teacher in Enseñá por Argentina -
I thought he would say something about how she planned her classes,
how dedicated she was,
how she implemented new activities in the classroom,
how she knew each and every of the children
she worked with every single day.
But it wasn't any of that.
He said something I didn't expect;
or maybe I did.
He said: "What it strikes me the most about her
is that when she teaches
her eyes light up."
And I remembered Hernán.
my Civic Education teacher in high school,
and realized that education,
this education, is transformative.
Thank you.
(Applause)