Jon Henley meets the tutors giving free lessons to children who can't afford the tuition needed to get into university
Young Greeks in Athens: as the state school system is considered inadequate for those hoping to go to university, private tuition is the norm. Photograph: John Kolesidis/Reuters
Ever since anyone can remember, Greek schoolchildren hoping to get into university have relied on extra out-of-school tuition to pass their school leaving exams with good enough grades.
It is, any Greek parent with children of school age will tell you, generally accepted that the state school system is not enough to ensure you a place in further education.
The same goes for learning foreign languages, for music lessons, or simply, for some students, to stay abreast of routine schoolwork. So a whole parallel system has grown up; after-school tuition has become the norm for most Greek children at some stage in their school lives.
It takes place either one-to-one, or more often in classes at private tuition centres (the Greek word is frontistirio). There are hundreds of these; they teach languages, give extra lessons to weaker students, and prepare everyone for competitive national exams.
But they don't come cheap. Harris Xanthopoulos, a father of two boys aged 11 and 15, said the cost can range from €300-400 a month for lower-school language teaching up 600-900 for final-year high school students seeking to go to university.
That's a lot for most Greek families, even assuming both parents work. When salaries have been cut by a quarter (as many have), taxes have multiplied and someone has lost their job, it's impossible. Xanthoupoulos, a mechanical engineer by training, has seen his small business dwindle to all but nothing; his wife's salary has been slashed.
"We just couldn't afford it any more," he said. "My younger son, Vassilis, is dyslexic and has had extra tutoring to makes sure he can follow in class since he was young. It cost us €450 a month; the Greek state has never provided that kind of special needs teaching. Last year we had to stop. Vassilis started falling behind almost straightaway."
Tutorpool began with a single tweet last December. Silia Vitoratou, a statistician, began tutoring a couple of children in her neighbourhood for free whose parents were in difficulties. She tweeted her frustration at how unjust it was that some children were now losing out, and about how satisfying it felt to have helped out.
"Within a couple of hours, I had 40 offers of help," she said. "I made a simple Google map, pinning each volunteer's name to a location and saying which subjects they could teach, and when they could teach them. We were up and running literally a week after that first tweet."
Tutorpool now has 500 volunteer tutors around the country and as far afield as Finland (Tutorpool aims to find local matches where possible, but long-distance tutoring is common and done by Skype). The organisation's website, built by volunteers, enables parents to log on and see what subjects available where, and tutors to see who is looking help and of what kind.
So far, all tutoring has been one-to-one; the group hopes soon to be able to offer group sessions, but is hampered by legal and licensing requirements it is doing its best to work around. But the site has had over 200,000 hits to date, and nearly 300 families are registered for help.
"It's appalling, of course it's appalling, that we have to do it at all," said Agathi Papanoti, an archaeologist who tutors Latin, Ancient Greek and history. "We shouldn't be needed. But as long as we are, we can do something. Anger isn't enough any more; we have to find new ways of making things work, help each other out."
It's rewarding for tutors, too. Marianna Roumelioti, a careers counsellor and Tutorpool tutor, said that when you "get an email from a 17 year-old, stressed because his exams are coming, and he knows his parents are behind with the rent so they can't to afford the classes he needs … When he realises you can help – that's gives you a full feeling."
Along similar lines, a group of music teachers have recently started a social music school. Their representative didn't want to be named ("We are a collective; we work together"), but said that the only music taught in most Greek state schools was theory.
"There are two state music schools, conservatories, in Athens and Thessaloniki, and both are currently being shut down," she said. "If you want to learn an instrument, you pretty much have to have private lessons. Fewer and fewer people can."
The school, which operates from premises donated by assorted theatres, associations and even a company or two, gave its first classes last month.
Some 90 volunteer music teachers now teach singing, piano, guitar, violin, cello and percussion to more than 150 students, both children and adults. More than 250 are waiting to join.
Greece on the breadline: pooling resources to provide an education | World news | The Guardian