Trying to Open the Door to the Schoolhouse for Bolivian Children

Readers:

At the start of each new school year here in Cochabamba it is a common thing to be approached by dozens of children asking for money to help with the long list of supplies (pens, paper, books) required by schools here. For families living on the economic margins (and there are many) paying for the $10 to $25 list of supplies is an impossible task. In fact, for many families it is the final economic barrier, among others, that makes sending children to school impossible.

In this post our research and writing team of Aldo Orrelana, Jonas Brown and Leny Olivera is back with a report on the Bolivian government's new program to offer public school students a twice per year payment from the nation's new oil and gas revenues. It is a look not only at the new program, but also at the larger issues that children face here.

Jim Shultz

Trying to Open the Door to the Schoolhouse for Bolivian Children

Angelica Ayala Rojas is a Bolivian mother with five children. This year, instead of advancing to the sixth grade, her oldest son dropped out of school to work in the family’s shop. Why could Mrs. Rojas afford to send her son to the fifth grade, but not the sixth grade? The answer hints at the both the benefits and limitations of President Morales’ recently inaugurated social program “Bono Juancito Pinto,” a 200 Boliviano ($25) annual subsidy awarded to children as long for as they are enrolled in the first through the fifth grades.

In Bolivia, economic realities often pull young children—particularly those from rural families—out of the classroom and into the workplace. Mrs. Rojas explained why her oldest son couldn't stay in school now that he is no longer eligible for the bonus. “I need my children to help sell my products. They go out into the streets selling for me. If the government made the bonus available for children who are in high school, that would be even more helpful. Then, our children would be able to study longer, and they wouldn’t grow up uneducated.”

The “Bono Juancito Pinto,” which became law last October, benefits approximately 1,200,000 public school students, from roughly 13,000 schools across the nation. Over half of the children targeted by the law—those between the ages of five and ten years old—have never attended or do not currently attend school. The new program will cost $30 million annually, and it will be funded by the additional revenues gained through the nationalization of hydrocarbons. The money is distributed in cash directly to the children in nationwide ceremonies conducted with the help of the armed forces. It is paid in installments of 100 Bolivianos, one at the beginning and one at the end of the school year. All public school children who are in the designated grade levels qualify, regardless of the family’s financial situation.

“Evo Morales is doing a good thing,” said America Diaz, another mother benefiting from the bonus. She has three children, only one of whom qualifies. The others are too young. “At least the money helps somewhat. When you have two or three children in school, you receive a pretty good amount of money. Though with only one in school, it’s not a lot. . . . I wish I could enroll my younger two,” she half-joked, referring to her two- and four-year-old.

Juancito Pinto, for whom the bonus is named, was a 12-year-old military drummer during the War of the Pacific (1879-1884), in which Bolivia lost its last strip of sea access to Chile. During the Battle of Alto de la Alianza, Juancito famously exchanged his drum for a rifle and died in combat. His name has become a national symbol of tenacity, and in particular of Bolivia’s ongoing efforts to regain access to the ocean.

Today, Bolivian children are not confronted with warfare, but are likely to find themselves on the economic battlefield. In a country of only 8.6 million people, approximately 800,000 children are working, representing 21% of the nation’s workforce.

About 120,000 of Bolivia’s child laborers are employed in small-scale mining, a brutal living even for adults. The Winter 2005 edition of the American Bar Association’s “Human Rights Magazine” provided the following description of a child miner’s experience:

“[They] are subjected to backbreaking physical labor, hauling dynamite, debris, and water. They witness deadly mine accidents . . . Many children who work in the mines do not attend school at all, and those who attempt to balance work and school often find that mining interferes with their education. The children in the mining town of Uncia in the Department of Potosí gaze at visitors with eyes and faces that look old beyond their years. . . . . They sit slumped in their chairs, tired and listless, and describe the harshness of their lives in a matter-of-fact way. They accept the situation as their fate and their duty.”

The “Bono Juancito Pinto” appears to be exactly the type of change President Morales had in mind when he declared himself, on election day in 2005, "the candidate of those despised in Bolivian history, the candidate of the most disdained, discriminated against."

The scenario is a populist’s dream: Money that was disappearing overseas into the coffers of large natural gas and petroleum multinationals is now being placed directly into the hands of small public school children.

However, the bonus is not without its critics. While 40% of Bolivian children finish primary school, only 20% graduate from high school. As pointed out by Mrs. Rojas, the new law’s focus on primary school does not necessarily encourage families to make a long-term investment in their children’s education. President Morales addressed this issue publicly in November of 2006, suggesting that with interest earned by investing its growing financial reserves in overseas banks, the country may soon be able to afford to extend the “Bono Juancito Pinto” to include middle and high school students.

Adolfo Soliz, the physical education teacher at Rivera de Guzman Primary School in Cochabamba, suggests another potential weakness: “We recommend that parents [spend the bonus on their children], but, ultimately, we don’t know what the money is spent on.” Some have suggested that rather than cash, the government should distribute vouchers, which could only be spent on specific goods for children. Others worry that families will become dependent on the fund, which is vulnerable to fluctuations in world oil prices.

Perhaps most importantly, some argue that the law provides superficial relief, because it does not attack the deep economic and social structures that create the widespread need and tolerance for child labor.
Despite these potential shortcomings of the “Bono Juancito Pinto,” most experts agree that improving access to education is an important step in breaking the economic and social cycles that have mired Bolivia in poverty. In a country where 60% of the people live below the poverty line and where it is a notable achievement when a rural child completes primary school, many of the country’s least fortunate find hope in the humanitarian spirit of the law. Mr. Soliz puts it simply: “[The government] is not able to give a lot of money, but it is always a help to the families.”

Developed and written by Aldo Orrelana, Jonas Brown and Leny Olivera.