A few kilometers to the south of Pantin, the Lycée Voltaire in Paris was also among the over 400 establishments closed on Friday. Several hundred students were gathered from the early hours of the morning, outside a barricade of trash cans and repurposed street fences blocking the doors to the storied 11th arrondissement high school. The peaceful protesters were greeted by solitary honks from motorists and truck drivers along the Avenue de la République.

For high schoolers at a place like Voltaire—though not one of the capital’s most elite schools—their demonstration was in part out of solidarity with the suburbs. “We’re relatively privileged here in Paris and know that the gap remains enormous between our school’s conditions and those found in high schools in the banlieues,” said Charly, a senior at Lycée Voltaire.

Still, the school is not spared from the broader problems afflicting French education. Students The Nation spoke to attested to packed classrooms and overworked teachers. Louis, also in his final year, denounced a “chronic lack of resources for the National Education ministry.” According to the ministry’s own figures, some 20 million class hours went untaught in the 2024–25 academic year. Louis, for example, said that his Spanish class last year was simply canceled for nearly an entire term, “without any substitute ever being appointed.”

The education budget is expected to grow by a little over €800 million in the 2027 fiscal year, not enough to compensate for inflation. In fact, next year’s budget, introduced on October 1, is slated to see permanent teacher rolls decline by 1,500 posts. A similar squeeze is felt in the university system. A 2024 study from economists Thomas Piketty and Lucas Chancel estimated that in real terms between 2017 and 2023 the annual budget for higher education declined by nearly 15 percent per student enrolled. “The army budget grows year after year, but for education we’re trapped in stagnation,” remarked Louis. In its 2027 budget outline, Prime Minister Sébastien Lecornu is seeking €54 billion in savings, although an additional €6 billion has been earmarked for the armed forces.

Another thing that unites just about all high schoolers is a shared frustration with the university selection system instituted at the beginning of Macron’s presidency. Known as Parcoursup, the digital platform introduced in 2018 has become infamous for its glitches and malfunctioning. But it is most decried for the idea of education it stands for, divvying up students along rigidly algorithmic lines, often discounting a candidate’s preferences about their intellectual and career interests and even geographic location. “You can be sent across the country because a computer told you that’s where you’ll study,” said Louis, nostalgic for a period when a student could easily enroll in the university of their choosing. In recent days, students at several universities have also joined in the push for occupations.

There are probably further storm clouds on the horizon for the university system. A senatorial report released in early September called to turn the page on the principle of free and open public universities for all.

With ideas like that circulating—and liable to be picked up in 2027 should a figure from the conservative establishment or the far right accede to power—it’s little wonder that the sentiment prevalent for France’s rising generation of students is that of a stolen future. Looking around them, they know that their school system, once considered the foundation of a republican society, has grown increasingly undemocratic and more segregated.

As the straitjacket of reduced budgets comes to dominate the national debate, the main political reaction to the mounting protest movement has been foot-dragging. In one apparent concession, Education Minister Édouard Géffray withdrew on Thursday a proposal that would have seen the levying of registration fees for certain post–high school trade schools and preparatory classes to France’s selective “Grandes Écoles.”

Otherwise, government figures and leaders of the right-wing opposition are decrying alleged outside agitators and seeking to pin the blame on a culture of protest prevalent among French youth. Far-right stalwart Marine Le Pen even broached the idea of a new anti-rioting law. “It’s a grave mistake that the media only harp on the rare images of violence,” remarked Charly, from Lycée Voltaire. “We’re portrayed as savages who only know how to burn trash bins.”

La France Insoumise (LFI), the leading left-wing opposition party, led by Jean-Luc Mélenchon, has also become a favored target of the backlash. Mélenchon called on LFI elected officials to “step in” between students and riot police, before urging for protests to remain nonviolent. The mainstream media has otherwise fixated on images of the LFI mayor of Saint-Denis, Bally Bagayoko—who had intervened to drag a burning trash can away from the gates of the Paul Éluard high school on Monday—as proof of LFI rabble-rousing. Bruno Retailleau, leader of the conservative Les Républicains, even called for the party’s banning, seven months from the presidential election.

But evasions like this will do little to calm the anger that has spilled out in the open in recent days—and it will do nothing to address the root causes of the crisis in French education.

“For now, this is a struggle led by and for young people, but we hope that unions will join and that this will expand into a broader national battle,” said Louis, the senior from Lycée Voltaire. Meanwhile, eyes remain fixed on the possible revival of a “yellow vest”–style movement starting on October 17. Macron’s government is no doubt aware that France has a long history of student protests snowballing into far larger social movements.