How can we ask Professor Siu not to leave?

The day he opened his last bag of rice, Edgar Siu (@siu_edgar) decided to spend part of the little money he had left on two poster boards, three meters of string, and a thick-tipped marker. He made two signs, hung them around his neck, and went out into the streets to advertise his private tutoring services in math and artistic drawing. This was in late April 2020, just as COVID-19 was hitting hard, and what little he earned from the occasional class here and there—or waiting tables—was no longer enough to put food on the table.

Even though he offered almost unbelievably low rates, a year later Edgar Siu still hadn’t managed to get enough students to stop going out every single day, even on weekends, wearing his signs and looking for better luck.

It was during one of these daily outings, on Wednesday, May 15, that I saw him standing on a corner in La Castellana, Caracas. He was holding up his sign offering classes and courses in mathematics: Algebra I and II, Integral Calculus, Vector Calculus, Ordinary Differential Equations, Modular Arithmetic, Complex Analysis I and II, Logic, Set Theory, Mathematical Analysis, Euclidean Geometry I, II, and III, Polar Coordinate Geometry, and Statistics.

I walked past him at first, without stopping. It was a scorching two o'clock in the afternoon. One of my shoes had just broken in the worst possible way—the kind that promises to leave you barefoot within a few steps. I was dragging my injured foot with as much dignity as I could muster, heading toward Centro San Ignacio to buy a pair of emergency shoes. I walked a few meters, but suddenly, as if driven by a gust of duty, I turned around and asked him if I could take a photo. After snapping the picture, I resumed my awkward journey.

I reached a shoe store with a sign on the door: “Back in 10 minutes.” So I took the opportunity to tweet the photo, and then “Twitter magic” began to happen. Retweets started pouring in, along with likes and replies full of admiration, encouragement, pride, sadness, and outrage—and finally, plenty of people interested in his classes. That very same afternoon, he was contacted by @vTutor_es, a well-known online education platform, inviting him to join their team of virtual tutors. Just minutes later, another European academy called him as well—with the same offer.

Behind the Viral Moment

Edgar Siu is from Macuto, Vargas. He’s 26 years old. Just over five years ago, he moved to Caracas. He’s the oldest of three siblings. His mother is a homemaker. His father used to be a driver and now works doing odd jobs. He studies Mathematics at UPEL (Pedagogical Experimental Libertador University), Venezuela’s main public institution for training teachers. I met him in person two days after he went viral, and even then he had no idea of the real impact his story had caused—how could he, if his only tech device, an old Alcatel Tetra with the usual cracked screen, barely handles WhatsApp?

No, he doesn’t have a computer. He lives in Sabana Grande, in a tiny room with a zinc roof for which he pays thirty dollars a month.

He completed his primary and secondary education at private schools in Catia La Mar: Carlos Soublette and San José, respectively.

He started at UPEL in October 2011 and has been offering private tutoring ever since. He could have enrolled at UCV (Central University of Venezuela) to study Mathematics or Physics—his exceptional aptitude in those subjects earned him guaranteed access through OPSU (the Office of University Sector Planning). But he chose the Pedagogical University because his true calling is teaching—teaching mathematics.

“I’ve been at UPEL for ten years because it’s been financially very difficult,” he explained, “some jobs have taken up too much of my time, and I’ve also been held back by strikes, protests, teacher shortages, and now the pandemic,” he added with a tone somewhere between embarrassment and exhaustion.

He’s currently taking eighth- and ninth-semester courses. He could graduate this year, but even with the great efforts of some of his professors, he knows that’s not likely. When he does graduate—maybe in 2022 or whenever possible—Edgar Siu might be the only graduate in his specialty, as has been the case in recent graduating classes from the so-called “University of Teachers,” where more and more often, not a single student completes the program.

He sleeps very little. He organizes his time strictly, both for teaching and attending classes, and he studies advanced topics on his own. He’s currently reviewing Linear Algebra and Algebraic Structures. He also devotes time to portrait drawing and is self-studying parametric curves and new types of polar ruled curves.

He’s convinced of one thing: “Many students choose to study humanities just to avoid math—not because they lack aptitude for numbers, but because either they were never taught properly or were taught so poorly they developed an aversion to it.”

Edgar Siu loves artistic drawing just as much as he loves mathematics. For him, they’re not opposite worlds but rather parts of the same vast continent of creativity. That’s why he works so hard to give both equal weight—trying not to be seen as just “the math guy.” On Instagram, he’s @edgarmatearte. His specialty is portrait drawing. He gives classes, workshops, and also works on his own pieces.

“My dream is to open an academy where I can teach both math and visual arts with excellence and joy. A place with accessible prices where low-income students—like me—can attend. I’d like it to be a research center, too. In my dreams, I see myself as an education entrepreneur.”

Yet at the same time, he says he feels trapped in a nightmare of indignity.

“I had to wait nearly three years for my passport because I couldn’t afford to pay someone to help me through the process.”

He doesn’t want to leave Venezuela, but sees no other option. In fact, if he had the means, he says he’d leave immediately, and since UPEL’s classes are now virtual, he would finish his degree from abroad. No one who hears him would doubt his sincerity when he says he’s often overwhelmed by the stress of living in a country with so many obstacles and difficulties.

A couple of weeks ago, he handed out his résumé to at least ten private schools. One very prestigious one called him, but they required full English fluency, and he doesn’t yet feel prepared to teach in another language. That experience—and the opportunities that came after his viral moment—inspired him to improve his intermediate English.

He’s drawn to Argentina and the United States. Part of his hopes are pinned on the U.S. visa lottery.

Even before the “poster boom,” @siu_edgar was already offering classes mainly to university students, especially those studying engineering, actuarial sciences, and economics. He refers primary and high school students to other tutors. And now, after going viral, he’s even sharing job opportunities with his own professors.

A Fortunate Coincidence

Fate was generous in placing Edgar Siu in my path, because ever since I began collaborating with the NGO Un Estado de Derecho (UeD), I’ve dedicated myself to tracking down powerful educational stories and helping their protagonists turn them into autobiographical narratives. I recently did so with the stories of María José España and Ángel Tajha: My Beautiful Journey from Petare to UCAB and Who Said a Man Can’t Fly?, respectively—two extraordinary first-person accounts that not only move but also provoke reflection. These are the opening testimonies of Bello Árbol Venezuela, a UeD initiative that seeks realistic solutions to the country’s deep educational crisis.

Edgar Siu’s story is another essential one—though, unlike the others, it seems to be headed toward the less uplifting conclusion of emigration. It’s not that I didn’t expect that outcome, but even when reality makes the predictable unavoidable, there’s always a part of me—perhaps the journalist in me—that clings, almost unconsciously, to the patriotic epic of “I’m staying in Venezuela.”

(As if what this UPEL student is doing—persisting in his dream to become an educator—weren’t already a feat of heroic proportions.)

During this first interview, I asked him many questions. But by the end of our nearly two-hour conversation in a café in Altamira, I found myself asking questions of my own:

How can I ask this young man not to leave?

How can I tell him to stay, when his dream is to become an education entrepreneur?

How can I discourage his well-earned right to a brighter future—to a better life?

I can’t ask him not to go. I can’t tell him to stay. I can’t weigh him down with tricolor moral speeches.

But what I can do is assure him that his powerful story gives strength to others like him—those who are determined to make Venezuela a place where everyone, and especially educators and entrepreneurs, not only want to stay, but can.

Mary Elizabeth León / Periodista

@marytaleon