Tales of Education Reform in South America (3)
A whirlwind of time had swept past since I announced the education reform.
First, the most urgent crisis—and the biggest problem—had been the shortage of teachers. That was resolved with almost dramatic speed once imported teachers poured in en masse. Apparently, once food, clothing, and shelter were taken care of, their efficiency shot right up.
We gave them houses. Cars. Jobs. If they brought their families, we even factored that in and provided a settlement allowance. Honestly, at that point, from where they were standing, wasn't San Marcos basically their savior? From where we were standing, we had imported highly educated talent we could actually talk to, at a bargain price.
In a way, we owed the whole thing to President Maduro of Venezuela. Back in 2011, Venezuela had been a middle-income country with a per capita GDP of over twelve thousand dollars. Considering that Korea's per capita GDP at the time was just over twenty thousand, Venezuela had been in a weight class San Marcos couldn't even look at. Naturally, the country had produced a considerable number of university-educated professionals—and then the economy collapsed, and we were handed the chance to import them.
I felt a little sorry for the Venezuelan people, but thanks to their misfortune, the hundred-year foundation of San Marcos had found its footing.
And the returns on the education reform didn't stop there.
"Your Excellency, this is this month's sales report for Tortilla F&B."
Following Seafood and Farm, F&B—the Tortilla Company's third subsidiary—had grown at a staggering pace. It was a company thrown together practically overnight for the school meal program. In truth, the lunch boxes and dinner boxes supplied to the schools generated almost no profit. Factor in the logistics costs, and they were actually taking a slight loss.
But from that loss, we had reaped a positive effect I never saw coming.
"Once we started turning out nearly a million lunch boxes, economies of scale took hold. The mass-production lines have been running at full capacity around the clock, fixed costs have dropped dramatically, and as a result, the unit production cost of our processed foods has fallen by more than thirty percent."
The moment they secured school meals as a large, stable buyer, raw-material procurement and factory operating efficiency had gone through the roof. Consequently, Tortilla Food's commercial products had acquired an overwhelming price advantage.
"Our share of the processed-food market inside San Marcos has now broken sixty percent. Imported ham and sausage are no longer competitive."
The people got to eat cheap, the government saved on meal costs, and the company made money by dominating the market. At this point, you could almost call it a creative economy.
"Who did we put in as CEO of F&B again?"
"Antamoli Santos, Your Excellency. We appointed him CEO when we merged Santos Foods."
"Ah, that's right. I remember the report."
I had received a briefing that we would acquire Santos Foods in order to stand up Tortilla F&B as quickly as possible. At the time, the matter had been so urgent that I had handed it over with some unease. Looking at it now, it hadn't been a bad appointment at all.
"He seems to be rather good at his job."
"Yes. At present, the results have exceeded expectations. And given how much experience he has..."
"If the price advantage is solid enough, tell him to look into exports as well."
"Preparations are already underway."
"Are they? I ought to pay him a visit one of these days and offer a word of encouragement."
"He will consider it an honor."
I closed the report with a satisfied smile. The remaining schools and facilities would be built in due course. There didn't seem to be anything more for me to put my hands on.
"I think we can keep basic education running as it is..."
All that remained was the crowning achievement of the education reform: the founding of a national university.
"How is the university coming along?"
"Eugene Comprehensive University has already broken ground."
"No."
Were they actually going with that name?
"Isabella. Are we really going with that name?"
"It is the name that was decided upon after consultation with the senior secretaries."
"Come on, let's not..."
"The name is not what matters at present."
Isabella's voice was flat and final.
"Then what is?"
"What matters is that we cannot secure a faculty."
"Did you post the openings?"
"We posted them a month ago. As of now, there are virtually no applicants."
"Hmm. I suppose it was never going to be easy."
It was only natural. How many distinguished scholars would stake their careers on a tiny South American country no one had ever heard of?
It's not like we're paying them a fortune, either.
In the United States, the average professor's salary was a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and in the STEM fields it sailed well past two hundred thousand. Add research grants in the millions of dollars on top of that, and there was simply no reason to come to San Marcos. Importing Venezuelan talent wasn't an option this time, either. Unlike the bachelor's-degree holders we had brought in, the PhDs had already fled to the United States or Europe. They wouldn't have met our hiring standards anyway.
"Perhaps it would be advisable to lower our sights somewhat? Among those who earned their doctorates at universities in Mexico or Brazil, there will surely be some willing to come."
A realistic compromise. I shook my head without hesitation.
"No. If we seat mediocre people in the professorships, the students who learn under them will never rise above that level. And then we will never escape being a second-rate country."
In a university system that produces talent every year, the first graduating class is the one that settles into position first. Every class after that naturally takes those first graduates as their seniors and learns from them. And if those seniors happen to be B-grade or C-grade? Even talent that could have been A-grade will inevitably slide.
In a country like Korea, hiring depends on ability. San Marcos is different. College graduates are so scarce that anyone who submits an application is almost guaranteed a job. Given that reality, we had to produce A-grade talent from the very beginning if we wanted a virtuous cycle.
The problem was this: sitting right above us was the United States, a black hole that sucked in elite talent. Why would anyone come all the way to San Marcos when the terms didn't even compare? If I were them, I'd go to America too. I wouldn't come here.
I was just beginning to wonder whether we really would have to lower our sights when Isabella offered an unexpected suggestion.
"It will be somewhat difficult, but there may be a way."
"Difficult or not, we have to do it. This is about laying the nation's hundred-year foundation. What is it?"
"We bring back the people who went into exile."
"Ex...ile?"
"During the War of Independence, there was a man called General Aveiro. He was the one who won our independence alongside President Juan..."
Isabella's explanation was this. During the war of independence against Portugal, there had been two factions within the independence army. One was the faction led by President Juan, who actually commanded the troops in battle. The other was Aveiro's faction—the people who handled the army's funds and supply.
The years passed, they defeated Portugal, and they won the independence they had dreamed of. The trouble started after that. They began fighting over the fruits of power. Juan and Aveiro each claimed that his own role had been the greater, and each hoped to become president. The winner of that fight, unsurprisingly, was President Juan, who held command of the military.
"And then? What happened to them? Don't tell me he had them purged."
"President Juan was not a man of that degree of ruthlessness. He said he could not bring himself to kill comrades who had shed blood beside him, and settled the matter with banishment. He even provided them with money to settle and helped them seek asylum abroad."
"...Not the worst outcome, then. But why did I not know about this?"
"It is a fact that was forbidden to speak of. If my father had not told me, I would never have known."
"I see. So what you're suggesting is that we bring Aveiro back?"
"Señor Aveiro was twenty-seven years older than former President Juan. He died more than ten years ago. The funeral has already been held."
"Then?"
"The Aveiro who left for America at that time had three sons. True to their distinguished bloodline, they were said to be the finest prodigies of their generation."
Isabella's eyes gleamed.
"The years passed, and those three became scholars recognized as among the very best in American academia."
"That accomplished?"
I wasn't exactly uneducated myself, so I knew perfectly well how difficult it was to earn recognition in American academia. The American academy is where the best students from around the world gather, enter the Ivy League, earn their doctorates, and compete. To be recognized there means you are counted among the best on the planet.
"The eldest holds a doctorate in economics from Harvard and served as a professor at the University of Chicago. The second holds a doctorate in mechanical engineering from MIT and served as a principal researcher at NASA. And the third..."
She let the silence hang.
"He is a distinguished professor of chemistry at the California Institute of Technology. Two years ago, he was even named as a leading candidate for the Nobel Prize in Chemistry."
My jaw dropped.
"...Wow."
"The timing is fortunate as well. I am told that all three have retired and are living quietly on the East Coast of the United States."
"So you're saying we persuade them and bring them back."
"Yes. Scholars of their caliber will have no shortage of disciples."
It was an undeniably attractive proposal. If they returned, they would more than suffice to lay the foundation of San Marcos's national university.
And yet.
"But... do you think persuasion is even possible? To them, San Marcos is the country that drove their father out. I can't imagine they'd be particularly well disposed toward us."
"It will not be easy, of course. However..."
Isabella's eyes hardened.
"San Marcos is changing. If we show them that change and persuade them in earnest, I do not believe the possibility is entirely closed."
A heaviness settled in my chest. In a sense, these were people the nation had abandoned. I couldn't even begin to imagine how much they had suffered in a foreign country whose language they didn't speak. Asking people like that to help the country now was the kind of request you deserved a slap in the face for.
Even so, for the sake of San Marcos's hundred-year future, they had to be persuaded. And I had to be the one to do it.
"Can we invite them?"
"I can go and persuade them myself."
"No. These are people the nation abandoned. The person with the highest responsibility should be the one to persuade them. And..."
"......"
"I'm the icon of reconciliation, forgiveness, and national unity, aren't I? You could say I'm the right man for the job."
"Th-that is so."
Whether from being moved or something else, Isabella furrowed her brow and nodded.
A few days later, I sat in the small reception room of the Presidential Palace, my face tight with tension.
Today was the day the scholars San Marcos had once cast aside were scheduled to visit. Whether I persuaded them or failed would decide the fate of San Marcos National University, and I couldn't help but be tense.
At the same time, I made myself a promise.
If it doesn't work out, so be it.
These were people abandoned by their own country. I wasn't the one who drove them out, but in their eyes, I was no different from Juan.
"Your Excellency, they have arrived at the airport."
"Have they? Bring them here with the utmost courtesy."
"I would suggest sending SIA agents to set the tone. We could also post armed guards in the reception room."
"...Just bring them here. Don't do anything. Please."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
A short while later, I faced the three scholars and greeted them with the utmost courtesy.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Eugene Choi, currently serving as Acting President of San Marcos. The reason I have asked the three of you here is to restore the honor of your late father, and at the same time..."
Less than five minutes later.
"...What?"
I had succeeded in persuading all three.