I am from Petare and I just graduated from the Universidad Católica Andrés Bello. Yes, exactly, thanks to a scholarship. Yes, yes: How else could the daughter of a housewife and a motorcycle taxi driver have achieved it?
I studied all of elementary school and middle school at the "María Inmaculada" Fe y Alegría Educational Unit. Yes, that's right, I was lucky. Yes, yes: who doesn't know how difficult it is to get a place in any Fe y Alegría school? I got there because my parents were determined and did everything they could for me to receive the best education available.
Other parents from Petare also tried and did everything they could, but they were not as fortunate as mine because, as we know, this private network of popular education administered by the Catholic Church has a very limited capacity, less than 1% of the national school enrollment. These other parents of scarce resources, who make up the vast majority, had no choice but to send their children to public schools.
I am, truly, very lucky, because if I had not entered "Maria Inmaculada" I would not have had the privilege of participating, back in 2011, when I was in fourth grade, in a Model United Nations (MUN), the well-known simulation of diplomatic representation at the UN. I would not have had the opportunity to get an early introduction to a learning method based on debate, argumentation and negotiation.
I participated in the MUN through the Community Ambassadors Foundation (FEC), a non-governmental organization whose mission is to offer leadership tools, through the MUN methodology, to talented adolescents in a context of exclusion. With Community Ambassadors I left Venezuela for the first time, got to know other countries and won national and international awards. I also worked in my community in violence and bullying prevention projects (did I mention that Petare is the most dangerous neighborhood in one of the most dangerous cities in the world?) and as expected, I made my vocational decision.
I graduated from Fe y Alegría "María Inmaculada" in 2013 as an intermediate technician in Commerce and Administrative Services and a year later I received the great news: I was admitted to the Law School of the Ucab. And with a 100% scholarship! The financing of my higher education was provided by the Andrés Bello Foundation and Becando Futuro, two civil organizations through which a group of individuals contribute money to pay for the education of young people in need of this support.
From one end to the other
I set foot in my first year of university like someone stepping on an unknown continent. When I think back to that time, I think of my first discoveries and, above all, I think that it was the beginning of this exciting journey towards understanding reality. With Introduction to Law I explored the elementary differences between religion, morality and law, while with History of Law I acquired basic notions about the emergence of the first civilizations and how they interacted through a fundamentally customary law. In Sociology of Law I was introduced to the description and analysis of the different social institutions and the complexity of their relationship with the legal phenomenon, while subjects such as Civil Law and Constitutional Law were for me a kind of landing in a new and unexplored world of reasoning about the roles of individuals and the State.
In my second year, I began to encounter certain contradictions, certain conceptual accidents that undermined my path with doubts and led me to investigate, to delve deeper and, therefore, to confirm the existence of disturbing inconsistencies. On the one hand, I read the theory, I was warned that the Constitution is a corpus that limits the power; and on the other hand, I read our Magna Carta and Administrative Law, I was disillusioned, and I saw the amount of powers, prerogatives and exorbitant authorizations conferred no less than to the Executive. I experienced the greatest shock when I studied about the autonomy of private will and later had to see it in opposition to the "institutions" of the common good and public order. Something did not add up for me: in all cases the collective, being an abstract entity governed by a few, relegated the individual, the largest and most important minority.
At a given moment I found myself in what I call a pendulum swing, oscillating from one extreme to the other under the forces of positions married to the State and those of positions opposed to power. Until, after reading and reading a lot, not only about law, but also about politics, economics, evolutionary psychology and even biology, I became myself a critical force of everything that tends to spoil the freedom and progress of a society. I think of this and I think of a long journey of understanding, one from end to end...one like the one I made daily from Petare to Montalbán.
How much does a future cost?
It was in fifth grade, about to graduate, when Professor Antonio Canova put in my hands The Beautiful Tree, the book where James Tooley relates his fascinating personal journey to how the poorest people in the world, those in the poorest countries on the planet, are educating themselves. The poorest poor educating themselves? Who else but me, the girl from Petare, the daughter of the motorcycle taxi driver and the housewife, the one who studied at Fe y Alegría, could be interested in the findings of this researcher from the University of Buckingham?
That the poorest parents in Africa, India and China prefer to pay private individuals for quality education for their children rather than leave them in the free public education system? Well, that is exactly what my parents did. I like to repeat that they did everything in their power to enroll me in a private school. Low-cost, it is true, because their possibilities were very limited, but private nonetheless. They paid punctually monthly fees that for many people are derisory but for them meant a great effort. It was either that or give myself up to the Venezuelan state school system. That is why when I read the testimonies of the distant African, Indian and Chinese families that Tooley gives voice to in El Bello Árbol, I somehow felt I was in front of my own story.
You can't imagine, then, the satisfaction of my parents when they saw me receive my law degree from UCAB, less than a year ago. No, they cannot imagine.
The fact is that a few months after graduating, Professor Canova invited me to participate in his doctoral seminar classes on Human Rights, another tremendously enlightening opportunity from which I became convinced of the urgent need to refocus the theory and practice of human rights from a new perspective: interdisciplinary, scientific, realistic and anti-government. In this seminar I also gained the confidence to receive a first responsibility within the team, led by the aforementioned professor, which investigates the current reality of education in Venezuela, and more specifically the emergence of low-cost private alternatives as a response to the collapse of the free public system. "Your assignment is the Cuyagua school in Petare. Visit it, inquire and find out if we are facing what we believe," Canova told me.
Starting from scratch
I visited it, inquired and informed: Cuyagua is the enterprise started fourteen years ago by journalist Dahis López and her husband, publicist Jhon Calzadilla.
In 2006, when the couple had their second child, the first one was barely one year old. They lived in Lomas del Avila, a sort of middle-class enclave in Palo Verde, a popular area belonging to the Petare parish, and they needed to find a daycare center where they could leave their two young children when Dahis' postnatal leave expired.
They searched hard, and could not find a place within their budget with minimum conditions of safety and cleanliness. They visited thirty-three places and none of them gave them enough confidence. They were still in that desperate search on the Sunday of November before the day Dahis had to go back to work, when they saw the newspaper advertisement: "Day care center for sale in Petare".
The long-delayed idea of a business of their own was presented to them in the form of a solution for the care of their children, so this time they did not hesitate, they pooled their savings, bought the operating rights of the daycare center and signed the lease contract for the dilapidated premises that served 15 children. The next thing they did," says Dahis, "was to ask for a bank loan to make renovations and adjustments that would bring the place closer to what they were looking for for their own children.
They closed for a couple of months and as soon as they reopened they began to receive more children. They grew so much that after three years the owner of the premises raised the rent to an exorbitant amount. So exaggerated that Dahis and Jhon preferred to sell the vehicle they had just bought, took out another loan and bought a three-story house a few blocks away. There they reinstalled the nursery. And since they now had more space, they decided to offer preschool care as well. Thirty-odd procedures later, they obtained permission from the Ministry of Education.
By the way, at that time a high official offered financial support for the improvement of the infrastructure of the newly founded and already successful Cuyagua, of course in exchange for the owners' full credit to the generous governmental will. Dahis and Jhon's answer: "No, thank you".
Around the same time, Dahis began to study Early Childhood Education. At that point - he recalls - he was already quite aware of the need to be trained in the teaching area to which he had redirected his professional life.
It was at the beginning of her new career that she found out that the house next door, a five-story house with a large internal courtyard and no roof, where there was a residence for 120 men, was for sale. And since the price exceeded, by far, the possibilities of another bank loan, she and John took the definitive step: they sold their apartment in Lomas del Avila and decided to move to the aforementioned house where they also immediately began the necessary remodeling.
After this, they opened a first grade section, and then a second grade section, and so on, until in less than two months - Dahis confirmed - the sixth grade section will be opened, which will complete the primary school offer.
Win-win
Cuyagua has today an enrollment of 150 children and a waiting list of approximately the same number of parents demanding a place, willing to pay the 12 dollars a month that it would cost them to enroll their children in that school. We are talking about people from one of the poorest areas of a country whose official minimum wage is about four dollars a month; in other words, the most disadvantaged Venezuelans willing to pay for their families' education.
We are also talking about the fact that Cuyagua exempts some twenty parents who cannot afford to pay the monthly tuition; in other words, the school provides scholarships to more than ten percent of its enrollment. "If I have done well thanks to the trust of the parents, why shouldn't I help those who need us the most? When a parent tells me that they have to withdraw a child because they can no longer afford to pay, we tell them that they are released from the obligation until their financial situation improves. And what always happens is that, as soon as that happens, they start paying again," said Dahis.
At the Cuyagua school, educational purposes are pursued through recreational activities. The no more than eighteen children per classroom are never, but never, taught through lectures. Learning," Dahis emphasizes, "is always, always sought through the prior experience of play. This methodology is credited with the high performance of the students. "When one of our students has had to go to another school, they are exempted from taking entrance exams," she says.
Neither she nor Jhon have any doubt that, if tests were taken to verify the level of preparation achieved at Cuyagua, the students of their school would prove to be far above their peers in public institutions and even -they assure- in other private ones. They base this certainty on everything they have put in place to offer real quality education. That is why they have psychologists, occupational and speech therapists. That is why they have their own library and that is why they are about to implement, soon, English and music classes from preschool onwards.
For Dahis and Jhon, the idea of a school check is a fantasy, not to say a delusion. When I asked them to consider the possibility of implementing in Venezuela this type of direct government subsidy, successfully tested and in force in several of the countries studied by Tooley, their response was first incredulity, then astonishment and, finally, illusion: "Imagine, if the State gives a certain amount to parents so that they can pay for the private school of their choice, that would be, first of all, a wonderful opportunity for millions of Venezuelan children. With such an aid, no one would be left out, neither from Cuyagua nor from any other private school. Secondly, it would be the best source of resources to reinvest in the continuous improvement of our care. In addition, competition for those checks would drive private schools to offer an ever-increasing quality of service. This would be an extraordinary win-win solution.
The teachers at Cuyagua have how to value the issue of direct economic aid, since according to the labor policy of the institution, all those who have children of school age can enroll them in the school with total exoneration of the tuition. In addition to this incentive, the directors offer salaries higher than the legal minimums and even bonuses in foreign currency. It should be noted that in the hyperinflationary Venezuela, the basic salary of an educator of the highest category, teacher VI (more than twenty years of career) is, according to the last official adjustment of May 2020, 769,304.01 bolivars per month; that is, about 3.34 dollars to date. Next week, due to the voracious and unstoppable devaluation, it will be less. And so on.
For Dahis and Jhon, the teachers are partners with whom they share benefits and an elastic work scheme, of great companionship, but also a clear agreement of obligations. Once a week they set aside an hour in the afternoon to have a snack with the teachers and share a pleasant chat. The so-called teachers' councils are usually held off campus and, after the formal meeting, they meet informally. Absences or repeated tardiness are dealt with immediately. "We are very strict about this. We can't afford teachers who are late or don't show up. We have a commitment to parents who pay what they sometimes don't have for the care and education of their children. That is why they come to us and not to the public schools. Our educators know that they must be responsible with the students and their representatives, so they are aware that failure to comply will result in reprimands and eventually even dismissal".
If a conflict arises in the classroom that suggests inappropriate behavior on the part of the teacher, the directors resort to the videos of the security cameras installed throughout the school. Reviewing the recordings, they add, usually clarifies the situation. Parents know that we have this surveillance system installed especially for their peace of mind.
Biancari Marcano has worked at Cuyagua for seven years. I spoke to her briefly on the phone and she told me: "I found out about the school by chance. I was looking for a job and after having visited several others, I arrived at Cuyagua. I stayed because from the very moment of the interview I felt that it was an ideal place to work, I would say a big family".
This teacher considers herself fortunate to be able to make a living in a place where, while they demand excellence and commitment, they also give her great confidence and esteem.
Public (and notorious) scam
I also spoke for a few minutes with Maira Rodríguez, mother of a student who started at Cuyagua in kindergarten, then went to another private school, then to a public one, and finally just returned: "My son was eight months old when he entered Cuyagua. I work all day, I am a single mother. I chose this place because of the support and family warmth they gave me. But when my child went to elementary school, the school still did not have a first grade, so I had to enroll him in a nearby private school. The problem is that he did not feel well there, they had no planning, the communication was lousy. In 2017, when the situation in the country became even more complicated due to the protests, I had to withdraw him, so I enrolled him in a public school also close to our house. There, there were no classes due to lack of water, or electricity, or because the teacher did not attend. My son no longer wanted to attend because other classmates were stealing his breakfast or his crayons. I decided then not to send him anymore and since my economic situation improved a little, I went to Cuyagua again, I presented the case and last year they accepted my child even though half of the first term had already passed".
Rossy Sanchez is another mother who found Cuyagua looking for a place with the best hands to care for and educate her son. I spoke with her, also by phone, and she told me the following: "I was looking for a safe and comfortable place to leave my child all day. I stayed at Cuyagua because I noticed that my son's learning was very good and he told me how good he felt with his classmates and teachers".
What this representative values most is the communication between the school and the parents, the rigorous follow-up given to each student's performance and the quality of the education her son receives. When I asked her why she chose a private school if she could have gone to a free public school, she answered: "Look, when my son went to elementary school I made the wrong decision to change him to a public school, where his knowledge did not advance and even his behavior changed. This made me go back to Cuyagua. It is worth every effort. There I feel at ease: I know that he is being educated with excellence and civic values.
When I said that when I read The Beautiful Tree I somehow felt I was in front of my own history, I failed to clarify that when I read its pages I also felt I was in front of beautiful but distant, very remote, national realities. For me, what Tooley told about the education of the poorest in Africa, India and China was a precious and enlightening collection of stories of very distant experiences. And it was until Professor Canova asked me to verify and report on the case of the Cuyagua school, right there, very close, a few blocks from my house.
And now?
What follows, then, are not properly my conclusions, but rather my marks, my starting points to continue the journey:
First: The poorest know, better than anyone, how fraudulent is the public education to which they seem to be condemned. Fraudulent because it does not help them to better themselves, it condemns them to remain in poverty. No one has told them, they know it because they suffer it. They know it so well that, judging by the case of the Cuyagua school, they do not seem to hesitate to prefer private education, even if it means an enormous economic effort. The parents of the most disadvantaged sectors do have criteria, they are aware, how can they not be if education is their only hope for improvement? They are poor, not stupid.
Second: The Cuyagua school in Petare is a clear manifestation of how people cooperate in freedom and how a freely organized society always ends up finding the best solutions to the problems that -what an absurdity- only increase when a coercive, inefficient and hindering Power is incorporated. The State will never be able to guarantee the full provision of the so-called social rights. It does not currently do so, nor will it do so. Nor is it interested in doing so, no matter how much it subscribes to it in treaties and covenants on Human Rights or writes it in any number of laws and resolutions. It's all just blah, blah, blah.
It will never succeed because it does not have adequate incentives, because it is inefficient, because it is impossible to afford such an expense without, sooner or later, drowning in debt, financing it with inflation; in other words, with more impoverishment. It is time to recognize this reality and face it without complexes.
Third: This low-cost private educational enterprise works better than free public schools because its owners have incentives that do not exist in state institutions: they work for them, to fulfill their dream that led them to risk all their patrimony. Because they put their skin in the game. Dahis and John invested everything, they imagined and worked day and night to make their ideas come true, they took risks to move their company forward, and given the good service (economic and quality) that they were able to offer, they also achieved the acceptance of consumers. This acceptance is expressed not only in the high demand for places, but also in the community's recognition of the couple's efforts and the benefits that their business generates for everyone. This positive assessment weakens the certain stigmatization that still surrounds for-profit activities and demonstrates that free economic activity is not incompatible with social commitment. Let us hope they are successful. Success that will not only be for them, but also for their students and parents. And of the whole community. I have never felt so keenly that invisible hand of which Adam Smith speaks.
Fourth: Twenty-one years of communist failure, plus forty previous years of social-democratic failures, are more than enough to confirm the unfeasibility of the statist salvationist promises and to confirm the urgency of a realistic alternative to the dramatic problem of education in Venezuela. The experience of the Cuyagua school in Petare is evidence of the human action that pushes from below, naturally, spontaneously and without coercion, upwards, towards the surface of a harmonious social order achieved without any other tutelage than that of the respect of voluntary agreements between people. Faced with such a clear indication as that, there is nothing left but to advance in the search and to investigate in order to determine how widespread is in the country this form of educational adaptation so similar to the one Tooley found in Africa, India and China.
And fifth: What if we find more and more Cuyaguas? What if we find more low-cost private schools? What if we find private schools with tuition of two dollars a month? What if we find parents satisfied with the education their children receive? What if we find children and young people who are happier, more confident, prepared and ready to excel? And if we find this: What if we ignore them or start to make them visible? Do we deny them or start to push for policies that truly guarantee the right to education for those with fewer resources? Do we dismiss them or become promoters of a system that stimulates free competition among educational undertakings? Do we disregard them or do we become defenders of the freedom of parents to choose, among several options, the best one for their children? Do we disregard them or do we propose the implementation of the school vouchers modality so that the State subsidizes, for all, the enrollment in the private school of their choice? Wouldn't vouchers be a better way, much less expensive besides, to comply with its obligation in education? Do we forget? Do we turn our eyes away and that's it?
Or do we do something so that all the children of Petare, of Venezuela, have the luck that María José España, the daughter of the housewife and the motorcycle taxi driver, had to graduate as a lawyer at UCAB?
Maria José España
