Imagine two children starting first grade on the same September morning. One lives in Vilnius, the other in a small regional town two hundred kilometers away. Both have the right to education. Both enter systems that formally promise inclusive education. Yet the reality of what they will actually receive may be profoundly different.
Lithuania’s Constitution guarantees every child the right to education, and our laws commit to inclusive schooling for all. But legal rights and real-life opportunities are not always the same thing. As Children’s Day reminds us each year that every child deserves protection and support, I believe we must ask a more uncomfortable question: do all children in Lithuania truly have equal opportunities — or only equal rights on paper?
Today, inclusive education is often discussed as an abstract educational ideal. In reality, it is something far more tangible. It means psychologists, speech therapists, social workers, and special education professionals working alongside teachers. It means classrooms that teach empathy, collaboration, and belonging. It means flexible learning environments designed around different needs so that every child has the chance to grow. The principle itself is simple: children are different, therefore schools must adapt to children — not the other way around.
One System, Different Realities
Through my work in philanthropic education initiatives, I see every day how a child’s future in Lithuania still depends too heavily on geography. According to PISA 2022 data, students in urban schools scored on average 71 points higher in mathematics than students in rural areas — a gap experts estimate equals nearly two years of learning. The European Union average gap is around 46 points.
This is not merely a statistical problem. It reveals a deeper structural issue: children facing vastly different circumstances are too often met with identical solutions. Instead of directing greater support toward those who need it most, we frequently choose universal approaches that dilute expectations for everyone. In my view, this does not solve inequality — it simply hides it.
Regional inequality in inclusive education is measurable in many ways. Students from disadvantaged socioeconomic backgrounds are more than four times as likely to fall below minimum mathematics proficiency levels compared to their more affluent peers. Even more concerning, the number of children who manage to overcome social disadvantage and achieve strong educational outcomes has not increased over time — it has decreased. In other words, social background today influences educational opportunity even more strongly than it did a decade ago.
And yet Lithuania was recently recognized by OECD PISA 2022 as one of only four “resilient” education systems in the world, alongside Japan, Korea, and Taipei. On the surface, this sounds impressive. But the same report highlights the dramatic urban-rural divide already mentioned. Both realities can exist at once because averages often conceal the children who remain invisible behind the statistics.
The Human Resources Crisis Behind Inclusion
This inequality is intensified by a growing structural shortage of teachers and education specialists, particularly outside major cities. Nearly half of Lithuania’s teachers are over the age of 50, while only 3–5% are younger than 30. Today, 27% of students attend schools experiencing teacher shortages. Rural schools and STEAM subjects are especially affected, as attracting young professionals to regional areas remains extremely difficult.
Since September 2024, all Lithuanian schools are legally required to admit children with special educational needs. Politically, this is a courageous and necessary decision. The challenge, however, is that the reform appears to have arrived before the professionals needed to implement it.
Approximately one in five Lithuanian children has special educational needs. Yet in many regional schools, essential support specialists simply do not exist. In 2023, only 68% of Lithuanian schools employed psychologists — often not even full-time — and the numbers were even lower in regional areas. Many specialists split their workload across several institutions, while increasing numbers move into the private sector where salaries are significantly more competitive.
The result is painfully simple: children who need support wait for it, and delays often worsen both emotional wellbeing and academic performance.
And this conversation extends beyond children with officially recognized special needs. There are also emotionally vulnerable children, children struggling to adapt, children who simply require more patience, attention, and support. Some schools actively seek ways to help these children thrive. Others avoid admitting them altogether because they lack specialists, resources, or confidence in their ability to provide support.
Where the System Falls Short, Community Steps In
When schools lack psychologists, when speech therapists are available only once a week, and when parents are balancing multiple jobs, children’s day centers often become the only stable source of emotional, educational, and social support for vulnerable children.
Today, more than 500 accredited day centers operate across 58 Lithuanian municipalities, most of them run by NGOs. Yet even these centers survive on fragile financial foundations. Their sustainability depends on a mix of state subsidies and municipal funding decisions, meaning access to support varies significantly depending on where a child lives.
Again, geography determines opportunity.
Solutions That Still Leave Children Behind
Lithuania is not ignoring these problems. Programs such as the Millennium Schools initiative are investing in school modernization and teacher development across dozens of municipalities. These efforts are valuable and necessary. But modern classrooms alone cannot solve the most urgent challenge in regional education systems: the shortage of psychologists, speech therapists, and special education professionals.
We can renovate schools. But without people, inclusion remains a promise rather than a reality. From my perspective, three structural issues continue to hold the system back. First, fragmentation: investment is directed toward isolated measures instead of long-term systemic strategy.
Second, too much responsibility is shifted onto NGOs. Organizations working with the most vulnerable families are often unable to plan beyond a single year because funding remains uncertain.
Third, short-term project thinking dominates policymaking. Initiatives begin and end alongside EU funding cycles, while child development requires continuity and stability.
Children are not equal in their starting positions, environments, or challenges. Inclusive education exists precisely because of this reality. As long as the system continues responding to deeply unequal circumstances with identical solutions, many children will remain excluded — even inside a system that formally claims to include everyone.