Estonia continues its systematic transition of the entire education system to the Estonian language — a process that began several years ago in kindergartens and primary schools and has now extended to vocational training. The consequences of this policy are most clearly visible in Ida-Virumaa, a region where the majority of the population is Russian-speaking. The Ida-Virumaa Vocational Education Centre (Ida-Virumaa Kutsehariduskeskus), which operates in Narva, Sillamäe and Jõhvi, has experienced a sharp drop in student numbers this winter.
Of the 300 available places, only 170 have been filled. Instead of the planned 17 study groups, the centre will launch just seven. The administration had hoped to offset the loss of local Russian-speaking applicants by attracting Estonian-speakers from other parts of the country, but the strategy failed. Marketing manager Virve Linder openly acknowledged that the full switch to Estonian-only instruction is one of the main reasons for the lack of interest.
The situation did not arise out of nowhere. At the end of 2025, the centre’s director, Hendrik Agur — who took up the post in August — publicly announced a decisive and uncompromising language reform. It turned out that nearly half of the 700–800 first- and second-year students did not possess sufficient Estonian proficiency to follow vocational subjects. Rather than retain at least partial Russian-language instruction, the management opted for a radical approach: from the beginning of 2026, all vocational and general education classes were suspended and replaced with intensive Estonian-language courses lasting three to five months, with the aim of bringing students up to at least B1 level.
Agur justified the decision straightforwardly: continuing to teach professional skills in a language students do not understand would be pointless and would merely simulate education. There are no plans to restore Russian-language instruction on principle. The director stressed that as long as schools fail to provide an adequate level of Estonian, vocational institutions will have to patch the language gaps themselves. The actual acquisition of professional skills, in this view, is a secondary concern.
To implement the programme, the centre will need to hire an additional 20 Estonian-language teachers and secure extra state funding.
The results of the “reform“ are already plain to see: fewer people want to study, and groups are not filling up. In a region with high unemployment and heavy reliance on industry — including shale oil and manufacturing — such a reduction in access to vocational training creates long-term risks. Ida-Virumaa has traditionally supplied skilled workers to local enterprises, but now young people for whom Estonian remains a second and often poorly mastered language find themselves at a serious disadvantage.
The official goal of the reform — strengthening national unity through a single language of instruction — sounds noble. In practice, however, in multi-ethnic regions it translates into restricted educational opportunities for the Russian-speaking population. Instead of creating conditions for gradual integration (for example, through mixed-language programmes or enhanced language support without completely halting vocational training), the authorities have chosen a rigid approach that simply deters potential students.
Estonia, which positions itself as a successful digital state and a member of the EU and NATO, risks creating its own labour shortage in a strategically important border region. Young people who are unwilling or unable to overcome the language barrier quickly may simply abandon education altogether or look for opportunities outside the country. Meanwhile, Ida-Virumaa enterprises face the prospect of a shortage of qualified specialists in the coming years.
For now, the authorities show no sign of reconsidering the policy. Yet the enrolment figures speak for themselves: the language “reform“ has not only failed to solve the integration problem but has created new ones — educational and economic.
Comments