BEFORE Greece’s snap elections in September, the outgoing left-wing government laid out plans for a value-added tax of 23% on private education. The measure, dreamed up by the governing Syriza party as an alternative to raising tax on beef, featured in their manifesto as a blow against plutocracy. It looked like a double win that would simultaneously please creditors and demonstrate the government’s commitment to helping the underprivileged. Unsurprisingly, it did neither.

Some of the country’s reasonably priced private schools were forced to close, leaving staff jobless. Elsewhere, fees rose. Those affected were not just rich families. Greece has more than 300 full-time private schools, attended by about 6% of school-age children, many of whom come from middle- and lower-income families. With tuition fees as low as €2,500 ($2,750) a year, some operate in working-class areas and attract parents who are keen to give their children a leg up.

Those whose parents were unable to pay higher fees moved into the already overwhelmed state system. At the beginning of term in September, Greek schools were short of some 12,000 teachers, according to the ministry of education. Some predict the shortfall will soon exceed 20,000.

The tax was imposed on almost all types of private educational establishments, including language and music schools and technical colleges. It even applies to evening schools, which are a huge social phenomenon in Greece and an integral part of the education system. Full-time private education is a minority choice, but for hundreds of thousands of Greeks, evening schools (known by the ancient Greek name of frontisterion) have served as an indispensable supplement to state schooling. For low-paid teachers in the state sector, these schools are a way to boost their monthly income, and for countless pupils they have served as a vital gateway for university entrance exams.

The country’s 9,000 language and evening schools employ more than 80,000 teaching and administrative staff. In the new climate, “lay-offs are inevitable, but so is tax avoidance,” says Christos Georgousopoulos, owner of Diakrotima, an evening school in the town of Lamia. Charging lower prices under the table, or employing uninsured staff may become more widespread.

The general mayhem caused by the tax is forcing the government to reconsider. Indeed, Alexis Tsipras, the prime minister, had already thought better of the move before the recent election and promised to reverse it. But that has proved difficult: the deadline for the government to find an alternative revenue-raising measure passed on October 23rd, putting the 23% VAT rate into automatic effect. A new deadline has been set for November. The government is reported to be scrapping the idea of taxing private tuition and imposing higher road taxes instead.

As in so many areas of Greek life, the dispute has highlighted a gap between theory and practice. There is a strong ideological antipathy in Greece to the idea of education as a profitable enterprise. In deference to that ideology, state universities, which account for most higher education, offer free tuition. Private campuses exist, but the degrees they offer are not recognised by the state.

But a gap between ideology and real life is something with which many Greeks seem to live quite contentedly. Take Mr Tsipras: despite his professed admiration for state provision, he has enrolled his son in a well-known Athenian private school.