I have been thinking about a kind of inequality we do not talk about enough, because it is not always obvious, and it does not always look like money. It looks like a parent who can send a quick message. It looks like: “Oh, my friend’s sister works there”, or “let me introduce you to someone”. It looks like a door opening, quietly, without anyone having to beg. And once you notice it, you cannot unsee it.
Some young people grow up surrounded by working adults who can explain the rules. They hear the language of work at the dinner table. They learn what different jobs look like, what they pay, and what the next step is. They learn how to write an email that gets a reply, how to walk into a room and feel like they belong, and how to ask for an opportunity without feeling like a nuisance. That is social capital. It is not a buzzword. It is the difference between feeling like the world of work is something you can enter, or something you can only read about. Here is the bit that gets me. Parent networks do not just help; they multiply.
One introduction can become a work experience placement. A placement can become a reference. A reference can become a part-time job. A part-time job can become a stronger CV. A stronger CV can become a better apprenticeship, a better university application, or a better first role. And then, years later, that young person becomes the adult who can open doors for someone else. That is how intergenerational wealth and opportunity are reinforced. Not always through cash, but through access and through being known.
And yes, we all roll our eyes when we see celebrity nepotism. The headlines. The outrage. The “nepo baby” debates. But here is the uncomfortable truth. It is happening every day, to everyday people, in quieter ways. It is the internship that goes to the friend’s child. It is the work experience week that is suddenly sorted, because someone’s dad plays golf with the right person. It is the Saturday job that is never advertised, because it is already promised. And the rest of the kids, the ones without the contacts, are told to be more confident, and to just email around, or what is happening more frequently… to stay in the classroom without any opportunities.
As if confidence is the missing ingredient and not access. When we blame confidence, we quietly tell young people before they’ve even entered the workplace that the problem lives inside them. It turns a very normal response to disruption, rejection, trauma, discrimination, or years of carrying the mental load into a personal flaw. “Just be more confident” sounds like encouragement, but it can land like a verdict: “you’re lacking, you’re behind, you’re the reason this is hard”. Confidence is often the result of safety, belonging, and small wins, not the entry requirement, and we do real harm when we treat it like a character test people are failing. Confidence is not a personality trait; it is a result.
Now, I am not blaming parents who help their children. Of course they do. That is what love looks like. If I can help my child, I will. The problem is the system. The problem is when private networks become the way public opportunity is delivered. If you do not have that network, you often get the school version of careers. A lesson. A worksheet. A generic assembly. And none of that is useless. It is just not the same as a real encounter with work. A worksheet does not give you a name to email. It does not give you a place to show up. It does not give you a person who can say, “Yes, you can try…” so the gap grows. Not because one young person is more capable. Because one young person has more doors.
Work experience is where this becomes painfully visible
Work experience is meant to be a bridge, but too often, it becomes a mirror. It reflects what a young person already has. If your family has contacts, you get a placement that looks impressive, and feels like it belongs on a CV. If your family does not, you might get nothing. Or you get something last-minute, low-quality, or not matched to your interests. Or you are told it is “too hard” to arrange. Or you are quietly steered away from opportunities that feel out of reach. And then we ask young people to compete in the same race, with different starting lines.
If you have never been in a workplace, it is not a mystery that you feel unsure. If you have never met someone who works in that field, it is not a mystery that it feels like, “not for people like me”. It is a simple reminder that some children are growing up closer to professional workplaces, professional language, and professional networks than others.
And this is where the celebrity nepotism conversation starts to feel a bit hollow. We get angry when it is famous, because it is visible, but the everyday version is baked into normal life. It is the parent WhatsApp group. It is the quiet recommendation. It is the “Oh, I know someone” that turns into an opportunity. So what do we do? How do we make this fairer, without pretending families will stop helping their own? We build the networks that some young people were never handed. We stop relying on who your mum can text.
We create school-led banks of trusted local employers, so placements are not dependent on family contacts. We use micro-placements, modern work experience, tours and work shadowing that build up over time, instead of one high-pressure week. We create employer-led challenges that let young people show skills, even if they cannot travel, or commit to long hours. And we make sure young people have mentors who help them practise the hidden rules. Emails. Introductions. Follow-up. Reflection. How to ask for help without shame.
When work experience is done well, it does something simple, and life changing. It gives a young person a name. A place. A story they can tell. Evidence that they can do it. And that is the question I keep coming back to. Are we really comfortable with a world where the best opportunities go to the young people whose parents already have access, and everyone else gets worksheets? If the answer is no, then the fix is not to tell young people to be more confident. The fix is to connect them to work, early, often, and in ways that feel possible. That is what modern careers education should do. Not just teach young people about work. But invite them into it.