Petros Alexiadis was admitted to the Psychology Department of a major regional university. It was among his choices, though not his first.
His top preference had been the Hellenic Police Officers’ Academy, followed by Law, and then Psychology. But his family’s financial situation makes it impossible for him to move away from home to study — and he is still struggling with the emotional weight of his father’s recent death.
Why can’t he study away from home? “Apart from the fact that I wouldn’t want to leave right now, in this phase of my life, it’s also just too hard financially,” he explains. For the past two weeks, while waiting for the results of his transfer application, he has been attending classes — unofficially, for now — at the Psychology Department of the University of Athens. His goal is to specialize in clinical psychology.
Petros belongs to the “invisible” number of young people who simply cannot afford to study far from home. The costs are crushing — from rent and household expenses to food and transport. And the eligibility rules for student housing or financial aid exclude many. Some students decide to retake their exams, while others compromise and settle for a different university than the one they dreamed of.
The Dreaded Application Form
To avoid ending up in such a difficult situation, many parents steer their children toward applying only to universities in their own city. Others choose to stretch their budgets to the limit, sacrificing their own needs so their children don’t have to give up their dreams.
“We’re an average family,” says Sofia Greasidou, whose son was admitted this year to the Technical University of Crete. “We didn’t want to clip our child’s wings, to tell him to pick a school in Athens. We decided to try it — and we were hoping to get the student housing allowance.”
Under Greek law, students who meet the eligibility criteria can receive an annual housing benefit of €1,500. Last academic year, around 50,000 students qualified for it. The amount rises to €2,000 for those studying outside the regions of Attica or Thessaloniki, or for those sharing accommodation — and to €2,500 if both conditions apply.
But the criteria are so strict — both financially and academically — that many students are left out.
Sofia’s son was ultimately denied the allowance. The family’s annual income exceeds the €30,000 cap by a small margin, and they were also disqualified because their combined property ownership is above the 200-square-metre threshold.
“We’re still paying off the mortgage on our home in Athens,” Sofia explains. “But we’re considered too wealthy to qualify for the housing benefit.”
Tiny flats, high rents, and a move-out by June
When they went hunting for an apartment in Chania, they were met with outrageous rents and absurd conditions. “Studios of 27 square-metres for €500 a month — and they kick you out in June. Which means your child has to pack up and move in the middle of exam season,” she says.
She compares it to her own student years. “I came to Athens from northern Greece to study in 1993. It was very hard for my parents to support me away from home — my mother worked as a cleaner at a health centre, and my father was a construction worker. It wasn’t easy, but it was possible. Now, I see parents with two children who tell them outright not to apply to universities outside their city. How can we talk about ‘free education’ when, at the very start of your life, you have to shrink your dreams because you can’t afford them?”
When Aid Disappears
Marina Papadopoulou’s son, who also studies in Crete, lost his student housing allowance in his third year. “The first two years, everything was simple,” she says. “We met the income criteria.” But he failed to pass half his courses the previous year, and that was enough to disqualify him. The financial pressure returned overnight.
Eight out of Ten Students Work
Today, it’s almost a given that students have to work while studying. There are no official statistics — but there’s plenty of lived experience.
“Eight out of ten students work. Boys and girls alike are working themselves to exhaustion,” says Antigoni Maraki.
She lives in Athens with her husband and their three children. Two of their sons study at the University of Patras — both working part-time while attending classes. Thanks to their family’s circumstances (low income, their father’s disability, and the fact that they have three children), the boys managed to secure places in the university dorms from the start. One is close to graduating; the other has just entered his third year.
Conditions at the dorms, she says, are generally good — relatively few residents, a family-like atmosphere.
“When I was a student in Athens,” says Greasidou, “my parents told me: ‘Finish your degree — we’ll support you for four years, don’t work.’ Now, with my son, we barely manage, and only because he’s sharing an apartment. If he weren’t, he’d have to work from the start. Most students now have no choice but to work — and that’s a huge burden. Back in our time, we went to classes, studied, but we also had the carefree side of student life. Today’s young people have to skip that phase entirely. If you work while studying, everything becomes limited. And then there’s the vicious circle: working means delays, and delays mean the fear of being struck off the register.”
