“It’s Very Important to Always Pay Attention to Them and Listen to Their Ideas”

She is amazed by young people—their potential, their brilliant thinking. She listens carefully and waits for the right moment to play, talk, and take action together. That’s how the interschool volleyball cup, a student exchange program, and a startup afternoon were born in Szentes. These gatherings are about communication, attention, and self-awareness—all things schools can no longer provide. We spoke with Alíz Martók, a grantee of our Revitalising Small Towns Programme.

Why did you feel a sense of duty toward any kind of community in Szentes?

At first, I didn’t (laughs). For a long time, I mentored an informal youth group as a volunteer. That eventually led me to work at the Szentes Cultural Center. The director showed me a grant there and said it was perfect for me—it matched exactly what I was already doing. That’s when I started to realize that I was actually working with communities. Before that, it hadn’t really been a conscious choice.

This is your full-time job, and you still do it outside of work hours. Why?

A leader of a civil organization once advised me, “Pursue anything that gives you more than it takes from you.” For me, this job gives me far more emotionally than what I invest.

What do you get out of it?

I’m constantly amazed by young people—how much potential they have, how well they think, and how refreshing it is to see the world through their eyes. Working with youth gives me an emotional recharge that’s hard to describe.

Everywhere I go, I hear how hard it is to deal with young people.

Sure, that’s the easiest thing to say, right? They think completely differently than we do. They’re growing up in a world we can’t even imagine. Of course they’re different.

How are they different?

Here’s a striking example. We often play games. One of my favorites is “Wink Murder,” which involves holding eye contact. This is becoming increasingly difficult for them—they struggle to focus on each other and maintain eye contact. Some even say, “I’m out,” and leave the game. At first, I was shocked. But then I understood—personal relationships have completely transformed for them. They mostly live in the virtual world, so they find these types of games challenging. Another typical difference: they dislike talking on the phone. They prefer texting. It also takes them longer to connect with others and become truly present in a space.

How do you get them engaged?

I don’t really do anything other than pay attention. I notice when the moment comes to switch to a different game, when it’s time to discuss more serious topics, or when we need to take a break.

How do you encourage them to step away from the virtual world and build real-life relationships, even if it means leaving their comfort zone?

I ease them out of their virtual bubble—gently. We play. We start with lots of icebreaker games. They simply have to be there and pay attention to each other.

Why don’t they run away from this?

That’s something you’d have to ask them. There are a few who don’t come back, so clearly some people feel uncomfortable in that setting. But I’m not someone who forces anything. I just want them to give themselves a chance in this space.

What activities did you lead in Szentes with these young people who were challenged to step outside their comfort zones?

It’s crucial to always listen to them and hear their ideas. One boy suggested organizing an interschool football cup, but the others voted for volleyball instead—there are already football events, they said. So we organized a volleyball cup. My colleague, Anita, the teachers supporting student councils, and the students themselves all helped. Four high schools, a dormitory, and a grammar school in Szentes participated. The students had a great time—because we made their idea a reality. I think that first volleyball cup was what made me “visible” as someone who works with youth.

Since then, I’ve believed we should only do what young people want. You can’t impose anything from the top down—it has to be theirs. Of course, we can make suggestions, but they have to be involved. Their ideas and personalities need to shape the program.

What else did the students want?

One of their biggest problems is the lack of real connection between student bodies in different schools. There are lots of stereotypes and fears. They want to break those down—they’re curious about reality. That’s how our now-paused but beloved Student Exchange Program was born. One class from a school would host ten students from another school for a day. They’d participate in the class’s daily life. It was always a powerful experience for the guests. Even today, they say we should continue this program. Schools don’t always understand its value, but it’s enormous—it builds student communities, even if it doesn’t align with traditional educational metrics.

We also have an ongoing program called HATOSOK(K), a playful interschool competition. Teams register, and each school serves as a station where they complete a task before moving on. We’ve also involved the children’s library and the pedagogical service center. It’s a literal and symbolic threshold-crossing experience. Like the volleyball cup, HATOSOK(K) has been going strong for four years.

Any new initiatives?

Yes, for example, we organized a Startup Afternoon in the fall. That was the students’ idea—they were curious about how to build something if they had a great idea at the age of 18. So we organized lectures: a young entrepreneur spoke about starting a business, a teacher explained the math and financial side of things, and we also covered what makes a good CV and how to behave in a job interview. Next year, instead of lectures, we’ll have topic tables and students will move between them. I’m not a fan of frontal teaching—everything here is a bit different from school.

Another exciting development is that, after a ten-year “break,” we reestablished the city’s student council: Szív-DÖK. It’s thanks to many people: the city’s youth officer, the municipal leadership, the schools—and of course, the students. Our student mayor is incredibly enthusiastic. Now the meetings and brainstorming sessions are coming up, and I have high hopes.

I’m also really proud of the youth grant. Even though I try to listen to what young people want, not everyone’s voice reaches me. That’s why we launched the grant, inviting ideas from 13 to 22-year-olds who are from Szentes or are studying here. We’re supporting programs they genuinely want to implement—from an Anime Club introduction afternoon to teen brass musicians promoting their instruments in kindergartens.

How much of your youth work is part of your official duties, and how much comes from your personal time?

They blend together quite a bit. I work as a youth worker at the Szentes Cultural Center. Locals call the building the “IH”—short for Ifjúsági Ház, or Youth House. Until a few years ago, hardly any young people came here. The director, who hired me, did a lot to change that. Now we have a youth community space called IfiPont, and SzentDió, Szentes’ youth podcast studio. We’re on the right track.

Why didn’t you become a teacher?

I’m a sociologist, and during my studies, I was drawn to youth sociology, family sociology, and values sociology. Later, I was always interested in things like human rights education—topics that can’t really be taught in formal education. I always said I wanted to be a teacher, but the subject I’d want to teach doesn’t exist.

So you created it for yourself.

Yes. I’m at the top of Maslow’s pyramid now (smiles). Looking back, it’s also important that I grew up on a farm 30 kilometers from Szentes. That’s where I experienced the power of community. On a farm, people can only rely on each other. When the snow fell, they called my uncle to come with his tractor to clear the road. When the power went out, they called my dad. And of course, both of them went to help. That’s something I carry with me, too.

How do schools respond to your work?

I think we’re on good terms. I often take advantage of the possibility to pull students out of their last one or two lessons—though it’s not always easy. These young people then come back in their free time in the afternoon, and I think the schools see that they’re learning things—about communication, attention, and self-awareness—that schools simply can’t provide today.

What do you expect from the Roots and Wings Foundation’s support?

It lets me realize opportunities I otherwise wouldn’t be able to. Like the youth grant—thanks to RWF’s funding, students can carry out projects they’re passionate about. We’d have no other funding for this. The support also offers a kind of professional freedom.

Besides funding, what else do you expect from us?

When I wrote the application and summarized what I’d done and what I plan to do, I realized that what I’m doing is meaningful, beautiful, and useful—that alone was a huge gain. And through the Roots and Wings Foundation, I’ve met like-minded people who, like me, don’t quite fit the mold.

(Iván Bardócz)