Cuba is full of good teachers from La Punta de Maisí to Cabo de San Antonio, and we are lucky to have them!

I had very good, unforgettable teachers, the really good ones: those who are engraved on memories, soul, intellect and feelings. Fail-safe educators, true guides of women and men of whom you cannot do without during your life because they simply mark you forever with their teachings.

I do not forget in my first steps the sweet teacher Clarisbel who with wise patience taught numbers, letters, and strokes, and praised the beauty of my books and notebooks, while she encouraged me to discover the unknown world of knowledge.

Then others came, some with less or more imprint. All of them, fundamental. Some, true stars of pedagogy, such as Nilda, the teacher who, late in primary school, taught me to be proud of my country, to protest against injustice or wrongdoing, to seek excellence, to investigate, to not be satisfied. I still remember her - thin as she still is - vibrating with passion in every class and proudly displaying her Makarenko lineage. Even after her retirement, she did not leave the classroom and returned to it as a faithful teacher of generations.

Later, others came, such as Vladimir, who is a must in this story because of his dedication and true teaching. I am amazed to remember her Spanish Literature lessons and his chivalry during those passionate readings of the works of universal poetry read in a beautiful voice, I would say, as an announcer. It was a true delight to attend the teaching of a man who dressed in every class with impeccable neatness.

In others, such as Duarte, the math teacher, the school days were extended by hours and while in a small workshop he patched up bicycle chambers to fatten up the family's meager income, he explained our doubts in a subject that, at least to me, was very complex. His humble home and workshop always had their doors open to a student with doubts or difficulties.

In such a way, the person I am is also the result of my teachers, those I mentioned and others like Frank, Carbonell, Maribel, Guevara, or Margarita who also left a mark during the years of study at the Senior High School.

Every stage of life has its teachers, I have them now in journalism which is in itself a true school for life. With top pedagogues like Martha Reyes, a reporter from Guantanamo, I learned from the generosity and humility of this craft; from the beauty of being able to "live" and tell other lives.

I have not seen many of my teachers for a long time. Many of them may not remember this particular student; others have changed professions and even countries. But when I see some of them I do not cease to feel a true admiration for those who are in the vital substratum of so many people.

I thank each of my teachers for their dedication, time and effort in making my best person and each of their students a living summary of the work they have done. The archipelago is full of gospels like them, from La Punta de Maisí to Cabo de San Antonio, and we are lucky to have them!