Public exams are a test of faith
Fifty-six percent of Spanish youth want a job with the government These young people are seeking the security that public employment affords But the crisis has limited the opportunities available
The Spanish province with the highest unemployment rate is Cádiz, at 35 percent. Maybe that's why 23-year-old Carolina Villarreal is quick to point out that when she was looking for work a few months ago, she didn't place any geographical limits on her search. She was willing to relocate anywhere in Spain.
Though she has a bachelor's degree in labor relations and a master's in human resources, the only work she was able to find were badly paid internships - more or less the same thing she already had. She was offered, for example, a salary of 500 euros a month for an internship in the sales department of a company.
"You can't even leave home on that," she says. So, although it was the company that had attracted her in the first place, she began to prepare for the exams for entry into the civil service, known in Spain as oposiciones. She says the decision was based "much more on the possibility of getting a permanent position than on the money. The private sector demands a high level of experience, but how are you supposed to get that if they don't hire you? By being an eternal intern?" she asks.
Now, Villarreal, who lives in Puerto de Santa María, has a plan. She is studying for two different exams that do not require university-level qualifications (judicial assistant and court clerk). Her idea is to get in, and start climbing up the public ladder from there through "internal promotion."
If she is successful in gaining a post, she will earn roughly 1,200 euros a month - enough to allow her to move out of her parents' home. But it is not going to be easy, even though she is overqualified for the jobs she has chosen. Over 18,000 people took the judicial assistant exam on February 26 - for a total of 140 jobs. In the clerk's office section, 8,000 hopefuls are competing for 43 jobs.
When asked if they would prefer a permanent contract or a civil servant job, 56 percent of Spaniards between the ages of 16 and 30 who had recently entered the job market chose the second option. Only 14.5 percent chose a permanent contract; the remaining 28.9 percent had no preference, according to data compiled last year in a study by the Valencia Institute of Economic Research (IVIE).
I was more interested in getting a permanent post than in the money"
Figures for urban areas (of more than 50,000 inhabitants) highlight these trends: 63.8 percent of young people there would prefer a public sector job. In 2008, this figure was 55 percent, and in 2005, 65.3 percent. Experts at IVIE explain that the effects of the economic slowdown of 2001-2002 can be observed in the latter figure. They also emphasize changes in the no-preference category: seven years ago, the figure was only 13.2 percent. Today, it's 23.1 percent. With youth unemployment around 50 percent, a decent contract or a public-sector post both sound like a kind of miracle to many.
Though a lack of data makes it impossible to know how many thousands of people are currently preparing to take public entrance exams, figures from the private academies where they are studying shed some light. After a high in 2009 and 2010, student numbers are now decreasing, which points to a dampening of enthusiasm after the initial scurry towards the shelter of the oposición in the early years of the crisis. The obsession with reining in the deficit has drastically reduced the number of public sector positions now available. In MasterD and Adams (two of the larger academies), student numbers dropped 20 percent between 2010 and 2011. Even so, MasterD still receives over 215,000 applications a year.
In 2008, 73,000 new public-sector jobs were on offer; this year, there are less than 10,000, according to MasterD's estimates. "Since the crisis, recruitment has dropped 30 percent in the private sector, but in the public sector, it has been reduced by 85 percent, and it doesn't look like this is going to change within the next two years," says Manuel Bagüés, who teaches economics at Carlos III University.
María Reyes, a friend of Carolina Villarreal who also lives in Puerto de Santa María, Cádiz, is preparing for an exam on her own. She left her academy last month because she needed to speed up her studies and because her savings ran out.
"My parents had to pay the last installment for me," says the 25-year-old, who hopes to be a teacher.
Despite the current situation, these academies continue to promote their services, with the justification that the public entrance exam is a medium- to long-term option that promises equal opportunity in recruitment and promotion and better work-family balance than the private sector. Bagüés argues, however, that it is a "risky choice" nowadays, especially for those exams that require a great deal of preparation.
As of last July, 2.69 million people were working in Spain's public sector
José María Peiró, professor of social psychology at the University of Valencia, also warns that those who are planning to accept a job for which they are overqualified in the hopes of later promotion "could be making a big mistake," as it is far from clear if things will return to normal after the crisis or if there will be a complete overhaul of the public sector.
The professor says there may be a possible "rethink of how many civil servants are necessary and, above all, what level of qualifications they must have."
The percentage of the Spanish population working in the public sector is 5.7 percent, in line with the EU average. Last July, 2.69 million people were working in the public sector in Spain, of which 1.65 million were civil servants (funcionarios). Civil servant entrance exams represent the other side of the coin to entrepreneurship as a way out in these difficult times. Although Spain saw an increase in entrepreneurial activities in 2011 over 2010, according to the Global Entrepreneurship Monitor report, the number of newly created businesses (5.8 percent) is still below average for the developed world (6.9 percent) - and the current figure is even lower than Spain's figures a decade ago (8.16 percent).
It's true that a country's structural needs are often at odds with the realities of its citizens - a reality comprised of millions of different personal situations, preferences, plans, goals and dreams.
"A lot of students ask me for advice about the future and I try not to sway them in favor of one option or another. But I do try to make sure they are well informed about the possibilities each offers," says Bagüés. This includes advice on whether public entrance exams are worth the effort or not.
"Studying for the teacher's exam is my vocation," says María Reyes, who has a bachelor's in journalism and a master's in humanities. Up until a few months ago, she was an assistant teacher at Madrid's Francisco de Vitoria University where she earned 700 euros a month, a salary that was barely enough to live on, though her university studies were free. So when she saw that Andalusia was offering 3,000 teaching positions this year (the only region to do so; the Basque Country and Madrid will hold their next exams in 2012), she thought, "it's now or never."
Private-sector recruitment fell 30 percent, and 85 percent in the public sector"
María packed her suitcase and moved back in with her parents in Puerto de Santa María. She was nervous about returning to the family home after living on her own for seven years, but it turned out fine.
"My parents respect my decision to take the exam," she says. Roughly 33,000 people will sit for the same exam, which means that 10 hopefuls are competing for each position.
Though she has a bachelor's in education and has worked in various schools, 29-year-old Alba Santos has decided to prepare for the National Police exam at MasterD Academy. Her husband is a member of the force, which is why they moved to Madrid from their home town in Zamora. "I know what things are like out there, and the conditions my husband enjoys. I think the job gives you a lot of time to study other things, and there are also many different job options within the police force," she explains. Currently, she earns between 400 and 500 euros a month from giving private classes.
There are many different types of people studying for public sector exams. Peiró, a university professor, says it's important to distinguish between the exams that people were preparing for before the crisis, and for which there is now an almost non-existent offer (a cause of great frustration), and those currently being prepared for by students in full knowledge of the situation and the difficulties that exist.
There are also many different types of exams: state, regional and municipal exams; and types A, B and C, according to the level of study and training they require. The higher the level of the exam, the more preparation required - so much so in some cases that it is impossible for those preparing to sit it to hold down a job at the same time.
Francisco Martínez, a 28-year-old from Valencia, was already thinking about taking the Register of Deeds exam (type A) before the crisis, while he was still studying for his law degree. "Practicing law in Spain is really boring," he says, with five years of studying for the public exam under his belt. He explains that the people who pass it often take between six and eight years to do so. Although he feels overwhelmed at times ("you feel like a burden on your parents"), he knows that this area has not been affected by cuts. Still, "it's a big sacrifice," he acknowledges. He studies nine hours a day from Sunday to Friday. His sister, a physiotherapist, is about to move to France, where she found the job that she couldn't get in Spain.
Carolina Villarreal, the young woman from Cádiz who is hoping for a job as a judicial assistant or in the court clerk's office, says that if she doesn't get a position, that will also be her next option: looking for opportunities outside Spain. The stakes are high, but the chances are increasingly slim.
Too poor for a scholarship
Twenty-four-year-old Anaïs Cijes, who is in her third year of social work studies at Valencia University, was denied a scholarship for being too poor. Her rejection letter stated that her "financial self-sufficiency and/or lack of family support was not sufficiently established."
In other words, the body in charge of granting scholarships at Valencia University simply did not believe she had the means to support herself. She moved out of the family home when she was 18, and earned 2,899 euros in 2010. When asked what the minimum amount was that students must earn in order to be considered financially independent, Marisa Cotilla from Valencia University's Scholarship Unit, replied that this is determined by using "common sense."
"We are very clear about the issue of financial independence," she continues. "We see a lot of cases like this where income is well below what the student is supposedly paying in rent, and then of course, there are living expenses on top of that."
Ministry of Education regulations on scholarships stipulate that applicants must provide "reliable" proof of their independence, and university scholarship departments pore over applications with a copy of these regulations in hand in order to prevent possible cases of fraud. The problem is that the system only accepts certain types of proof and allows a great deal of room for interpretation. This can result in a lack of fairness and even promote fraud, explains Eva Molina Romera, president of the Association of Low-Income Families (Afrel).
"Of course there are unfair cases. The amount of income needed to survive is very ambiguous," especially within the context of the crisis, she says. Furthermore, margins are very small. Cijes' 2,899 euros were not far off from the income limit (3,771 euros) for more sizeable scholarships.
The amount on Cijes' 2010 income-tax declaration (which was used to determine scholarship eligibility for this school year) was indeed enough for the 175 euros a month she pays in rent for the apartment she shares with three other girls in a modest neighborhood near Valencia's Xúquer square. But, she actually had a bit more money that year as she had some savings and she also received a 3,000-euro scholarship.
But she is not allowed to show proof of this, she says. "They told me that I couldn't declare the scholarship or my savings. I asked if I could show my current work contract or declarations from my roommates, but they said no. The option they gave me was to apply as a dependent of my father; the student union told me the same thing. I will have to do that because the 727 euros
is too much for me," she says.
Without giving any further explanation, Cotilla, from Valencia University's Scholarship Unit, confirms that "scholarships cannot be counted as income."
Since leaving home, Cijes has supported herself thanks to odd jobs and student aid. "I have had pasta for lunch and milk and cookies for supper every day so that I could afford to study," she says. She didn't have enough money to start her degree in the 2008-2009 school year so she worked full time to save money for her studies.
She began her degree in social work the following school year and applied for a scholarship. They used her 2008 income-tax return to process her application, and in addition to a tuition exemption, she was granted a scholarship of a little more than 3,000 euros. This allowed her to cut back on her working hours so she could concentrate on her studies.
For the 2010-2011 school year, her second, Cijes' 2009 income-tax declaration was used to process her scholarship application. That was the year she spent working, and as she had earned more, she didn't have to pay tuition but she was only given 240 euros for academic materials, which meant she had to increase her working hours. Her marks suffered as a result. This year, she has been denied all aid on the grounds that she has not proven her 2010 financial independence.
"If I work a lot, I am penalized. If I only work a little, they don't believe me. This cannot be," she says.
Cijes has now reapplied as her father's dependent. She may get the scholarship, or at least the tuition exemption, which will save her 727 euros. But she says that she doesn't understand why things are this way, and she is upset, which is why she wanted her story to be told. "I never ask my father for money because he has a large mortgage," she explains. She has never asked her mother or her sister, who live in France, for help either.
