Malta court forces Church school to accept local kids in landmark education rights ruling

Court orders education authorities to enrol two children in school
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**In a landmark ruling that reverberated through Malta’s tight-knit communities, a judge has ordered the Director of Education to immediately enrol two primary-aged siblings in their neighbourhood Church school after months of bureaucratic limbo.**

The children, aged six and eight, had been left without a classroom place since September when their parents—both Maltese nationals living in Żebbuġ—were told the state-subsidised school was “full up”. While their classmates filed into neat lines behind the honey-coloured limestone façade, the siblings stayed home, their mother reducing her cleaning-job hours to supervise them in a flat overlooking the parish square where elders still gather to argue over ftira fillings and festa fireworks.

Magistrate Marse-Ann Farrugia’s 18-page judgment, delivered on Tuesday, pulls no punches: “The right to education is not a favour to be rationed when budgets tighten; it is a constitutional promise made to every child born under the Maltese flag.” The court noted that the same school had accepted nine foreign nationals mid-term after their families relocated to Malta’s booming iGaming sector, yet told the Żebbuġ family places were “objectively exhausted”.

The case cuts to the heart of a cultural sore spot: Malta’s dual system of state and Church schools, both free at the point of delivery but operating under different caps and quotas. Church schools, historically run by religious orders, receive per-capita grants from government but may set enrolment limits agreed with the Secretariat for Catholic Education. In practice, that has created a postcode lottery in which a five-minute walk can decide whether a child learns cursive under a vaulted cloister or is bussed to a larger state primary kilometres away.

For the Żebbuġ family, losing the local school place felt like losing a birth-right. “My husband’s family has been baptised, married and buried from this parish for 200 years,” the mother told *Hot Malta* outside the courthouse, still clutching the court’s stamped envelope. “We never imagined our kids would be turned away from the school whose feast we fund with €20 carnival cupcakes every year.”

Community backlash was swift. Within hours of the ruling, the parish priest announced a special children’s mass “for the protection of our schools”, while the local band club promised a fund-raiser to buy extra desks “should the court’s decision stretch resources”. On Facebook group “Żebbuġa Flimkien”, comments swung from jubilation—*“Grazzi Alla, il-ġustizzja reġgħet rebħet!”*—to worry that classrooms already bursting at 28 pupils would balloon to 32, diluting the individual attention Maltese parents prize.

Education Minister Clifton Grima reacted cautiously, saying government would “study the judgment” and “engage stakeholders” before commenting further. Sources inside the Secretariat for Catholic Education hint at a quiet lobbying effort to raise the national cap on Church-school class sizes, currently set at 30, a move that would require renegotiating a 1993 concordat between Malta and the Vatican.

Beyond the village, the verdict is being read as a stress-test for Malta’s egalitarian self-image. The country spends a higher share of GDP on education than the EU average, yet OECD reports flag early streaming and regional disparities. With foreign workers’ children arriving daily, pressure on popular schools has intensified; last year 410 kids were initially left without a preferred placement, down from 537 in 2022 after emergency expansions.

Legal experts say the judgment could open floodgates. Lawyer Ramona Attard, who represented the family pro-bono, is already fielding calls from parents in Għargħur and Fgura in similar straits. “The court affirmed that administrative convenience never trumps constitutional rights,” Attard noted. “Authorities must find chairs, portacabins, teachers—whatever it takes.”

Back in Żebbuġ, the siblings have chosen their backpacks: one patterned with Paw Patrol, the other with the Maltese cross. They will start class on Monday, escorted past the baroque church where their grandparents were altar servers. Whether the system adapts or cracks under new applications remains to be seen, but for now a small victory is being savoured in cafés smelling of rabbit stew and espresso. As one elderly villager summed it up, “In Malta, family and school are the same word—*skola* holds the village together. Thank God the court remembered that.”