The boy at the bus stop had a smartphone more expensive than the tuition of an average Nigerian university. He was not on his way to class. He wasn’t seeking a job. He stood idly, lost in the chaos of Lagos traffic, shouting into the din: “SCHOOL NA SCAM!” A danfo conductor burst into laughter. An old woman shook her head in pity. And, right there, a little more of Nigeria’s soul faded into darkness.
This isn’t just a scene—it’s a tragedy. A reflection of a nation where poverty has become a performance, where ignorance is rebranded as bravery, and where the pursuit of knowledge is mocked by those who benefit from its absence. The truth is painful, but necessary: School is not a scam. The real scam is the system—decades of institutional sabotage, elite hypocrisy, and the glorification of illiteracy wrapped in empty street slogans.
Let’s be clear. Education in Nigeria is in crisis—not because learning is worthless, but because we’ve allowed it to be weaponized and weakened. According to UNICEF, over 10.5 million Nigerian children are out of school, the highest number globally. Public schools suffer from crumbling infrastructure, unpaid teachers, outdated curricula, and frequent strikes. In 2022 alone, public universities were shut down for 8 months due to a face-off between ASUU and the federal government, disrupting the academic calendar and disillusioning students nationwide.
But amidst this decay, the children of Nigeria’s ruling class do not attend these schools. Their offspring are tucked safely in prestigious schools in the UK, US, and Canada—paying tens of thousands of dollars annually in tuition—while they tell poor Nigerians that formal education is overrated. Former President Muhammadu Buhari spent an average of £26,000 per child annually to educate his children abroad. In 2021, then-president’s son Yusuf Buhari graduated from the University of Surrey in England. If school truly were a scam, why not enroll them in a “street-certified” apprenticeship scheme?
And what of the so-called successful dropouts? The loudest arguments for “school na scam” are often rooted in cherry-picked tales of billionaires like Mark Zuckerberg or Bill Gates. What many forget is: these men dropped out of Harvard, not some underfunded institution plagued by strikes and corruption. And even in their dropout status, they continued rigorous learning, had access to elite mentors, and were surrounded by innovation hubs and venture capital.
Meanwhile, here in Nigeria, literacy rates remain dangerously low. The World Bank classifies Nigeria as having a “learning poverty rate” of over 70%, meaning 7 in 10 children can’t read or understand a simple sentence by age 10. That’s not just a statistic—it’s a recipe for national collapse. A nation of illiterates cannot question, cannot innovate, cannot lead. It becomes a playground for strongmen, cults, and charlatans.
Yet, some of our youths have been hoodwinked into believing that “street sense” trumps schooling. While street smarts have their place, they can never replace critical thinking, analytical skills, or informed citizenship. The most successful entrepreneurs—Aliko Dangote, Tony Elumelu, Ibukun Awosika—are educated, trained, and continuously learning. Elon Musk reads two books a day. Jeff Bezos built Amazon on mathematical precision. Rwanda’s transformation post-genocide was built on a strong education reform, and South Korea’s post-war miracle was driven by aggressive investments in schooling and innovation.
Education is the ultimate equalizer. It enables social mobility, civic responsibility, and economic productivity. A World Bank report shows that every additional year of schooling can increase an individual’s income by up to 10%. Nations that prioritize human capital development—Singapore, Finland, Canada—consistently outperform others on global development indices.
So when you hear “School na scam,” ask: scam in comparison to what? To crime? To fraud? To betting shops and Ponzi schemes? To political thuggery?
Let’s be real: the loudest anti-education voices are often those who have benefited from it the most, or those who fear what an educated populace might demand—accountability, equity, and justice.
It’s time to kill the narrative. School is not your enemy. Ignorance is. The problem is not the classroom—it’s the system choking it. And until we fix that, the only scam we’re falling for is the glorification of intellectual laziness.
Nigeria will not rise on vibes and cruise. We will not grow through TikTok motivational speeches or Instagram entrepreneurship rants alone. We must rebuild the intellectual foundation of our nation. Invest in minds. Protect our schools. Inspire our youths to think again, learn again, dream again.
Because a nation that trades books for bants is already bankrupt. And the joke, if we’re being honest, is not on the system—it’s on us.
