The Boy Without a Computer: What I Didn’t Have Taught Me What I Could Become

A Recognition Day Speech for Cachapero Learning School by Francis Jim Tuscano

Good morning to all of you—dear students, parents, teachers, and the leadership team of Cachapero Learning School. Thank you for the warm welcome and for inviting me to be part of this special day.

Recognition Day is more than just medals and certificates. It is a moment of reflection—a time to celebrate not just what was achieved, but who you’ve become through the journey. So today, let me start by sharing mine.

Where I Came From

I grew up in a simple home in Abra. We didn’t have much, but we had enough. My mother was a devoted public school teacher. My father was a farmer and sometimes worked as a construction worker. Our life was modest but meaningful. They made sure I had what mattered most—love, books, values, and the freedom to dream.

As a child, they let me take some piano lessons, bought me books, and I enjoyed cartoons like many kids do. But in high school, something different captured my attention—the computer. I didn’t have one at home, but my friend and neighbor did. I would go to her house, and we would explore her desktop computer. It was magical. I remember discovering the Encarta Encyclopedia, clicking through information about animals, space, science. I was fascinated. I began teaching her what I learned—even though I was learning it for the first time too. That was the beginning of my love for technology and teaching.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t fully enjoy this passion. Our high school had a computer lab, but the units were old and access was limited. I always felt like I was borrowing someone else’s world. Still, that early experience planted a seed.

In college at Ateneo de Manila University, I got in through scholarships. But even there, I felt the gap. My classmates had laptops—many of them had MacBooks. I had none. I relied on the computer labs on campus, often lining up and waiting for a unit to be free. Sometimes, I would borrow from classmates or friends just to get through my coursework. Until finally, my mother—doing what mothers always do, finding ways despite the odds—got me a second-hand laptop. I remember some of my friends laughing at it because it was not old model. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t new. But it was mine. It allowed me to work, to write, to study—and to fight for my place. I planned carefully. I studied hard. I persevered. And eventually, I graduated with honors.

Not because it was easy—but because I was inspired. Inspired by my parents’ sacrifices. Inspired by the belief that education was my way out—and my way forward.

Years later, in 2009, I became a teacher. And that love for technology? It never left me. In 2013, I was loaned an iPad—one of the early models—and I decided to experiment. I integrated it into my Grade 4 CLE or Religious Education class. No one taught me how to do it, but I trusted my instincts. I used it to help and let my students explore their ideas, reflect, create, and collaborate. And they loved it. That moment reawakened something in me. I had found my passion again.

That passion led me further than I could have imagined. I became an Apple Distinguished Educator, and over the years, my work has been recognized internationally—not because I chased awards, but because I stayed grounded in purpose. I didn’t set out to become known; I simply followed the path lit by what inspired me: making education more meaningful and fun for every learner. That same passion continues to guide me today. I’ve had the opportunity to collaborate with organizations like UNESCO, SEAMEO, and the Department of Education, helping shape policies, lead teacher trainings, and design strategies that support teachers and students across the Philippines and Southeast Asia. I share what I’ve learned—not to impress, but to contribute. Because every community, every classroom, deserves a future that’s thoughtfully and purposefully built.

But I never forgot where I came from. One summer, I returned to my elementary school in Abra, stood in front of my former principal, who also one of my first believers, and offered to help by sharing what I know about technology. I trained the teachers who once taught me. My teachers became my students. It was one of the most beautiful full-circle moments of my life. I still remember how their faces showed pride when I was training them.

I’ve also been inspired by my mother—who, like your teachers today, juggled lesson planning, grading, school duties, and even home responsibilities. Teachers are passionate, but we are often overwhelmed. There’s too much paperwork. Too many reports. And sometimes, those demands pull us away from what matters most—connecting with students. That’s why I co-founded Tagpros Education, an Education Technology Company that created GabAI—an AI-powered teaching assistant built specifically for Filipino teachers. GabAI helps with lesson planning, checking, creating assessments, and giving feedback. It saves time so that teachers can focus on what only humans can do—listening, guiding, caring, and inspiring their students. Our AI tool, GabAI, is not just a tech tool. It is a solution to a problem I lived through. My passion pushed me to be a better student, a better teacher, and now—a problem solver.

A Message to Students, Teachers, and Parents

And so to all the students here today—I congratulate you. Congratulations for your awards, yes—but also for your sleepless nights, your deadlines, the times you cried in silence, the times you doubted yourself. Congratulations for the days you showed up even when you didn’t feel like it. For the group work that tested your patience. For the moments you wanted to give up—but chose not to. Be inspired by those moments. They are not setbacks. They are fuel. They are wind—not to knock you down, but to help you soar higher.

But let me also say this: you don’t have to be perfect. I know this, because I spent a big part of my grade school and high school life trying to be. I was the kind of student who didn’t want to make mistakes. I wanted everything to be neat, correct, and perfect. I was so scared to disappoint my parents and teachers. I avoided taking risks because I was afraid to fail. Looking back now, I realize I gave myself too much pressure.

Life is tough. School is tough. That’s okay.
What’s not okay is forgetting to breathe. So please—give yourself a break. Don’t be afraid to stumble. Don’t be afraid to try again. Mistakes don’t make you less—they make you real. They make you stronger. They make you better.

In a special way, to the teachers and school leaders of Cachapero Learning School—thank you. To the teachers who pushed through the exhaustion, who showed up even when the days were long, who made your presence felt in the classroom and in the hearts of your students: you are respected, you are loved, and you matter. Your dedication is the foundation on which today’s celebration stands. Dear students, can we give your teachers, staff, and school leaders a warm round of applause to show our appreciation?

And now, I’d like to turn to another group whose quiet sacrifices often go unnoticed but are deeply felt in every award, every lesson completed, every goal reached. Can I please ask all the parents and guardians to stand? To the mothers and fathers, grandparents, aunties, uncles, and caregivers who woke up early, stayed up late, worked extra hours, patiently guided your children, waited outside classrooms, wiped away tears, and whispered encouragement—thank you. You are your child’s first teacher, and today’s success is as much yours as it is theirs.

Dear students, let’s give your parents and guardians the loudest applause of the day. You are here because they never stopped believing in you—even when you doubted yourself.

Now, going back to our students: Never underestimate your beginnings. You don’t need to have everything to become someone. You just need to be inspired—and to keep going. You may not know what lies ahead. And that’s fine. Just keep looking for inspiration. Let your own struggles inspire you. Let the people around you—your parents, teachers, even your classmates—remind you of what matters.

Earlier, I shared how I was once that boy in Abra who didn’t even have a computer. I borrowed. I lined up in labs. I worked late on second-hand machines. I couldn’t afford the latest tools, but I had something more powerful: inspiration, and people who believed in me—my parents, my teachers, my community. Years later, that same boy—who fell in love with Encarta—was invited by Apple to share his story in one of their global educator videos. Imagine that. From no computer to being featured by the very company that makes them. Not because I was the most tech-savvy. Not because I was perfect. But because I stayed true to my purpose—and because people helped me rise.

So, be inspired to be excellent. But more importantly, be inspired to make the world better. Because when you do, you inspire others to do the same.

Find your passions. Use your talents. Solve real problems. Whether it’s through writing, science, teaching, art, or technology—let your life be your message. Because your journey will not end with this medal. Your real success will be measured in how many lives you lift along the way.

Congratulations, Cachapero Learning School. You are not just shaping students. You are raising future changemakers.

Maraming salamat. Mabuhay kayo!