Well, I don't know about you guys, but for me, the part that I enjoyed the most about going to school is when they took us out on excursions or we went camping.
I think I liked it a lot because in that moment you felt free, you could see your friends with the light of day, you could watch the teacher interact with the real world.
But I think that the most important was that when we went on excursion learning and living were part of the same thing.
I work as a director and screenwriter and in 2009 we had a problem.
We had to ideate a TV show for kids that would tell the children about the May Revolution and the problem was that nothing came to us.
To make things worse, with Sebastian Mignona and Nicolas Dardano, we have had the wonderful idea of offering to the Ministry of Education's TV channel to make an animated program; when none of us had the slightest idea on how to create a cartoon film.
If you asked me when I was a boy what I wanted to do when I grew older, I would answer: "I want to work making cartoons."
But it seems that with time I began noticing that animations were done in the United States.
So if I wanted that work, I would have to be far from my parents, and I likely gave up.
But now, I had the chance to write and direct a cartoon.
So, a bit to reconnect myself with what I liked so much from the school, and also, I think, to see if an idea would occur to me, I went alone on an excursion to the Buenos Aires' Cabildo.
I arrive at the Cabildo, I go up to the first floor, turn left, and I find this image.
The Primera Junta, and so I get closer, read the names, Saavedra, Moreno, Castelli, Belgrano, Paso, I look at their expressions, their faces, and there I had the first revelation.
"This is a pain."
(Laughter) There's no way -- (Applause) There's no way you can do something entertaining with this.
The kids will always prefer to watch Pokemon, or Dragon Ball Z.
If you think of it, they are able to store in their brain five complete seasons of Pokemon in Japanese, they watch the movies they like a million five hundred thousand times and they know the words by heart.
And what is the difference between that content and this?
Could we make the May Revolution as attractive as that?
It seems that in front of content presented as pedagogical, educational, you lift a barrier.
Like when they want to sell you something you do not need.
There, I noticed that I passed through elementary and middle school without understanding well why San Martin crossed the Andes.
And they must have explained it to me every August 17th.
But it didn't hit me, I didn't get it, or it did not stick.
When I returned from the Cabildo, I started thinking: "So, what stuck with me from school?"
And then comes the image of my favorite teacher.
You may as well have a favorite teacher from elementary or middle school.
Well, Claudio Simari was mine.
He was my teacher from 4th grade.
And I was reminded of him because he was able to overcome the barrier that I had placed.
And I remembered two moments where Claudio did it.
And maybe in that there was an idea to create this cartoon.
One morning Claudio arrived and he put on a piece of music.
Claudio chose a song by Terea Parodi that was called "Hurry up Jose," and he wanted to explain to us the drama of the floods in Formosa.
For those who don't know it, the song recounts a desperate call from a woman to her husband to escape together before the flood arrives.
That was enough for me to never forget about the floods of Formosa.
And for each time I listen to "Hurry up Jose," to be moved again.
The other thing I remember about Claudio is that one day he decided to share with us a personal story.
And he must have done it in such a sensitive way that I can even remember where I was sitting in the classroom.
It turned out that Claudio was being sent to the war.
Claudio was in the line to enter the plane that was going to take him to the Falkland Islands.
He already had his uniform on, it was dawn, and he suddenly looks and he notices his parents had just arrived to say goodbye.
So Claudio went running from the line to give a final hug, and when he returned they sent him to the back.
And he was one of the few that failed to enter the plane.
Those were the last flights that managed to reach the islands, and a friend of Claudio died in combat.
With that alone, I would never forget the Falklands war, neither that history.
How did Claudio do it?
How did he impart on us ideas that 30 years later I still keep remembering?
I realized one thing.
What Claudio did, first of all, was to tell us stories.
And we lived them like we were there with him.
Claudio was a sort of medium, and we lived that experience we were in the classroom but we felt on an adventure.
And the other thing I realized of Claudio is that he never underestimated us.
We always thanked him for that, because Claudio didn't treat us like infants.
We preferred Claudio over those men and women in television who would disguise as boys or girls.
At first, they'd come closer to become your friends, and then you realize that they want to teach you numbers or colors, or sell you something.
Seems like Claudio knew that if you treat a child like a fool, you ran the risk that, whether the child thinks that you are the fool, because you're speaking to them like that, or that they grow up thinking they are a fool, which is much worse.
Children can be lovely, tender, sensitive, but the truth is they are the same who invented bullying.
They can be tyrants, cruel, fickle beings, just like us.
If they are like us, then why should we treat them in a different way?
Now, how are we?
That was the question that we asked ourselves in that moment.
One of my first assignments as director of "The Dog on the Moon" -- way before creating "Zamba" -- was traveling across the country visiting public schools and interviewing kids.
I must have interviewed around 1,500 or 2,000 kids.
They taught me to stop looking at them from above, to lower the camera, to look at them in the eyes, and to see the world as they see it.
That ended up having a lot of impact in the project, because there is something from each of those kids in Zamba.
Anyone who had contact with Argentina's hinterland knows that the representation of children we see on TV is quite different from reality.
Of course, because TV is designed to treat children as consumers.
Paka-Paka comes to treat children like children, and for us as storytellers, that was an incredible opportunity.
So we started to design the character.
We had to think of an Argentine boy.
If you were to draw an Argentine boy, what would you do?
What would the hair color be?
His skin color?
What would the width of the nose be?
These are the first sketches of Zamba.
At that time we asked ourselves if boys and girls would identify with a boy who did not have super powers, and that instead of a cape, he wears a pinafore like them.
Finally, this is the definitive design of Zamba.
(Applause) We made him short like Messi for agility and to facilitate escaping.
He has a backpack so he's similar to those hectic kids that are running around with their backpack on.
We put on his pajamas under his pinafore.
We made his skin brown.
If you look carefully, he has like some little horns here, to make it look a bit more mischievous.
And we gave him a broken tooth, as a war wound of that battle we all go through and is called "infancy."
At this point, you should be asking: "How is it that a guy who went through elementary or middle school without knowing why San Martin had crossed the Andes, can write and direct a program on history?"
Gabriel Di Meglio, who is a historian and researcher at the CONICET, was on the team.
Gaby, among other things, chose to be a historian because in his childhood he read Asterix.
And I had the chance to sit with him, face to face, and ask him about history in the same way Zamba asks San Martin.
Then, what at first seemed a hindrance ended up being an advantage because I could write Zamba from naivety, without solemnity.
We could get our heroes off their horses, we could brush off the bronze; we could tell our history through humor.
Today, we live in a time of peace.
But throughout our history a lot of men and women lost their lives, the only life they had, to fight for values like freedom and independence.
And they could not see the outcome of that struggle.
It hurt me, for example, when I came to know that Belgrano died in a period of anarchy, with the feeling that all he had done had rendered useless.
But it was useful.
To all who do Zamba, we like to think that Belgrano, San Martin, Sarmiento or Juana Azurduy would like to know that those values of freedom and independence are moving on to the next generation.
Today, kids recognize their struggles and recognize them as characters of Zamba on banknotes.
(Applause) Zamba might be revolutionary?
I have no idea.
We can't know this by now.
We may have to wait 20 or 30 years.
And something similar must happen with teachers, right?
How much time must pass so you can see the result of their efforts of their dedication?
And when I was preparing this talk, tin!
My favorite teacher, Claudio, comes to mind again.
I said, "Well, I have to tell him this, I have to share this with him."
So I googled him.
Claudio did not have Facebook.
And all I found was a very improbable e-mail account, and I wrote an email that said this I will read to you: "Hello Claudio.
I was your student 30 years ago, perhaps you don't remember me.
I write you because I'm one of the makers of a cartoon called Zamba, it's shown in Paka-Paka and I have to give a talk about it.
I needed to tell you that Zamba is named Jose after "Hurry up, Jose" the song that one day you showed us to explain the flooding in Formosa.
And that's also why Zamba is from Clorinda.
I needed you to know that if you watch the episode about the Falklands, you will find a veteran teacher and it is a tribute to you.
If by chance you see this mail I hope you are doing well and that you receive a little recognition and appreciation for the work you did with us."
(Applause) Today, was approaching and Claudio's reply did not come.
And very recently it arrived.
Claudio is still the guy I remembered.
He went to live in Bariloche, he was a rural teacher, he devoted his life to teaching and he now works there at a center of teacher training.
What was I supposed to do?
I went to meet him.
And it turns out that when I arrived, Claudio had a surprise for me.
I did not remember, but on the last day of school Claudio asked us to write what we liked most of 4th grade.
And these 30 years Claudio had treasured my answer and my peers'.
(Applause) "What I liked about the year -- I wrote -- was the camp, because we played a lot and had fun."
Today, Claudio is here sitting among us.
(Applause) And I have the possibility to thank Claudio personally and in front of you those gestures, that dedication, that one day he made us listen to a song, that one day he shared with us such a personal and intimate history as that of the Falklands war.
Because those little things helped, they are what ultimately make that future engineers, future scientists, future teachers, future artists, workers, and perhaps even future presidents, today, at school, when they go out to recess they end up shouting: "Let us be free, nothing else matters."
(Applause)