July 8, 2026: Infanta Sofia delivered the first edition of Fundación Ibercaja’s “Docentes Referentes” grants at Fundación Ibercaja Monastery of Cogullada in Zaragoza Good afternoon.
I met Baktay when she was six years old and I was eight. It was during one of those “Sunday afternoon movie sessions” at home, and that scene never left my mind. Baktay would secretly take some eggs to exchange them for a half-torn notebook in a dusty market, and even then the barter was not enough to add a pencil! That little girl was facing an entire universe that denied her the right to learn, the right to knowledge. The film I am referring to is called Buddha Collapsed Out of Shame. That Afghan girl, fighting against everything and everyone simply because she wanted to be taught — I, of course, had no idea back then what was happening, and what still happens, in that country — made me go to my third-grade class each morning with renewed enthusiasm.
We are here today because education matters to us. And I want to tell you that, as I began to read and read and read about what education means, in all its many dimensions, I came to understand just how vast it is, and how enormously complex. Ibercaja, through its foundation, has long placed importance on the work of teachers, providing them with tools and ideas, creating networks and community, so that Spanish teachers can continue to contribute decisively to the development and progress of our society through education.
No one chooses to teach for money or recognition — you know that better than anyone. And all of us, including the youngest among us, are aware that there are problems: bullying, loss of authority, questioned salaries, school dropout rates, classroom ratios, students with special needs, excessive bureaucracy, funding, educational inclusion…
It is worth remembering the three words that Professor Carlos López Otín, from this land, attributes to the “art of educating,” which goes beyond the “task of teaching”: respect, curiosity, and commitment. Because talking about education, about the education system, is far too broad; it concerns far too many things. That is why, in every center, in every school, there is a teacher — often exhausted — who, despite the difficulties, continues trying to reach both our hearts and our minds, one by one, student by student. In every classroom — urban or rural, with newly graduated teachers or veterans, in schools of different types: public, state-subsidized, private — in every school there is a teacher who defends that sacred time of learning, where, calmly if possible, they help us understand the world and develop our own judgment about reality, to create our own hopeful and enthusiastic way of seeing.
And this morning, I saw it for myself here, at La Cogullada: I saw that same gaze in our Docentes Referentes. They are not merely transmitters of knowledge; they are teachers who accompany their students. Diego, Clement, Belén, Cristian, Mercedes, and the honorable mentions: congratulations to all of you. And I will not be the one to speak now about varied methodologies and new pedagogies, or the debate around AI in education, or the difference between digital literacy and digital education, or educating in values, or assessment systems, or whether it is more appropriate to insist more on abilities and skills or to structure curricula around the humanities and philosophy, or about attention, memory, concentration, and cognitive ability. Put like that, this little inventory is quite dense.
To me, the teaching profession has a value and relevance that go beyond the strategic and enter the realm of the essential. And beyond pedagogical trends, or circumstances, or market needs; beyond whether we students pay more attention to some reel by who knows whom than to an explanation in class; beyond the noise — real or invented — there is, I say, one day, in our classroom, in our childhood, that we never forget. A day when, while we still have the capacity for wonder, a teacher says something to us that stays here inside, attached forever. It may be “you are intelligent,” or “have you read this book?”, or “have you thought that…?”, or “have you asked yourself the right question?” Or it may also be a seemingly simple conversation, but one that is well argued, uninterrupted, and filled with that care for the slow time required in the process of “learning to want to learn.”
Many of us believe that yours is one of the finest professions in the world, that it should be valued much more highly, that it carries great responsibility, that it sows today with hope. And for that reason, it deserves respect, resources, and full recognition. These grants, this teaching community that begins its journey today, are proof of that. And that is why I am grateful that you have welcomed me, so that my first public address may become part of that journey.
Thank you very much.
