Twelve Years of Latin, Zero Lessons on How Money Works

School teaches Latin, but not investing: the gurus' domain

Between twelve and sixteen years of desk time, eight hours a day spent on a curriculum most never revisit. With this material, a recurring complaint among entrepreneurs has resurfaced in 2026: school teaches you how to calculate the area of a triangle and memorize distant battles, but no one explains how money works or how power operates. The conclusion remains uncomfortable: the system doesn't produce free individuals; it produces docile employees. Fixed schedules, permission to speak, a reward for conformity.

The Manifesto That Sounded Automated

The text that peine this discussion said it plainly: this is not an accident; it is a design. The initial reaction was not to debate the thesis but to audit the messenger. Too many words, textbook structure, numbered sections. The suspicion that a machine had written it—and that the author presented it as original thought—became the central issue for days. The second objection came from the pocketbook: when the same discourse is packaged as a product, the starting price tag of €35,000 excludes those it claims to represent. Selling liberation at a master's course price has credibility problems, and the classic personal finance reference—Rich Dad, Poor Dad—was dismissed as a new religion for eccentrics.

Is University Worth It? The 80% That Is Never Used

Against the narrative of the classroom as a factory of compliant workers, emerged the nuance of those who had passed through higher education. In science majors, the value lay not in the curriculum but in the method: forcing oneself to think systematically. The exams from the nineties through 2010, known as 'happy idea' problems, yielded an A grade and demanded a B by deducing the path. That training, they say, has diluted; the diagnosis circulating is that a ten-minute conversation with a recent graduate confirms it. And the most repeated estimate: between 80% and 90% of studied content is never used in the workplace. Hence the conclusion of some: two cycles of medium degree and then to work.

School Schedules Are Not Made for Children

The next shift moved beyond titles and into homes. If the academic day starts between seven and eight in the morning and ends between two and three, it doesn't match a child’s sleep cycle; it matches their parents'. With classes open until five or six in the afternoon, school ceases to be a school and becomes a parking lot. The phrase that concluded this segment was far from academic: to be a good parent, you only need to be present. Which, in a market that pays by hours of absence, sounds more like provocation than advice.

The Class Divide No One Wants to Name

And underneath, the usual rift. Some maintain that a university degree provides a breadth of vision that the street does not; others reply that classism has taken root precisely among those who afforded their education. The most repeated formulation is that social class is defined more by mindset than by income. In some segments, the exchange devolved into hostile generalizations toward specific groups and hiring policies—assertions without any data behind them, left here only as they are: one more opinion current, unsupported.

With all this on the table, the sticking point of the analysis is not whether school fails—no one disputes that—but who assumes responsibility for what it leaves undone. The family no longer has the time; the course costs €35,000, and the curriculum remains the same. No one has answered that. Not with data, nor without it.