There is a strange noise when the social elevator breaks down: the sound of dreams being trapped on the ground floor, while upstairs, as always, those of a few continue.
How many times have we heard promises of change, only to always see the same doors opening… for the same people?
I grew up, like so many, hearing that “those who work get there”, that public school, even between strikes and freezing corridors, was enough of a ladder for anyone who wanted to climb.
Today, however, for thousands, that hope is a thing of the past – an old elevator sitting on the ground floor, while the country sees its children stuck at the source, eyes fixed on the landing to which no one climbs without help.
Look at the numbers — so as not to say that it is just a feeling.
In 2025, around 44 thousand students were placed in higher education, the lowest figure in recent years — minus six thousand.
In Beja, Felgueiras or Vila Real, it wasn’t just statistics that were left behind: they are real young people, prevented from dreaming of university due to lack of places, averages or money.
Maria, a baker’s daughter, was left out. No support or private explanations. Their dream of social mobility was blocked due to lack of resources, an example of a generation that feels they were born on the wrong side of the door.
In Trás-os-Montes, André, 19 years old, hesitates. “I have nowhere to stay, but I don’t want to give up.”
It is illusory to say that everyone competes on an equal footing when the national exam can weigh up to 45% when applying for higher education and each private explanation, essential to raising the average, represents a monthly cost equivalent to the value of a room rent in Lisbon or Porto.
Getting good grades in a deprived public school is a struggle.
When there is a lack of resources, support or even heating in the classrooms, it is necessary to be a more resilient athlete than a brilliant student.
In a system that values the sum of averages and exams, those who have access to explanations are several steps higher — not only because of knowledge, but because of financial privilege.
The starting line is far away for many.
And if the doubt was ever rhetorical, today it is statistical: in the top thirty places in the ranking, all are private schools. Only in 33rd position does a public school appear, with an average that doesn’t even reach 14 points.
In this country, merit continues to be announced. But each year seems more a product of context than achievement.
The State watches, but with bureaucratic indifference. Many pretend not to see the slow agony of public schools.
The silence is deafening.
In the end, it’s not just the student who loses: the country becomes impoverished every time it closes the door to talent.
Annual fees from 697 euros (public education) to 3,900 (private), rooms at 1,200 euros in Lisbon. For many families, the choice between paying for their children’s education or buying meat and fish is real.
It’s not just difficulty: it’s survival.
Someone with my background, coming from a public school, without shortcuts or names opening doors?
It would probably be just another one to hit… and stay outside.
And would the internship in law — mandatory, now with legally imposed remuneration — be accessible?
What was supposed to be protection has so often turned into a barrier: there are those who prefer not to hire, citing costs, or opt for the usual selection, those sponsored and recommended.
And anyone who doesn’t bring a business card — the “anonymous” who occupies the last place in the auditorium, without contacts or hands to present him at the office door — risks walking through endless corridors, where hope evaporates and closed doors teach the value of silence.
Today, for many, obtaining a paid internship without contacts has become an even more unlikely mission than in the past it was to obtain even an internship, even without remuneration.
The social elevator, now reserved for a few, widens the gap: it separates, with silent cruelty, those who go up from those who stay on the ground floor.
If we change nothing, we will change countries without leaving the place.
And it’s not just young people who lose.
The country loses, wasting talent, diversity and future in the name of equality written in law, but denied in real life.
Just look at countries like Finland or Norway: they broke the cycle by investing in public schools — the recipe is within our reach, if we have the will.
As long as there are people who write, speak, protest, there is a future — but only if we exchange silence for indignation.
The issue is not just one of decency.
It is strategic: will we continue to accept that the lottery of birth, address and surname determines who can study and work with dignity?
The country faces a decisive crossroads: either it accepts the responsibility of investing, monitoring and repairing what has broken, or it accepts, with its head bowed, watching its youth condemned to crawl, demoted and without hope, on the ground floor.
We will only change the destiny of young people if we invest, strategically, in public schools, in residences for students and in strengthening scholarships. The answer is within our reach, if there is political will and social indignation.
The social elevator may be at a standstill, but our determination does not have to be stuck.
It is in our hands to demand that no one is condemned to the ground floor.
And us? Will we simply continue to look?