When I left the lecturing job I'd held for seven years plus in 2020, at the peak of COVID-19, I vowed never to work an 8 - 4 or 9 - 5 job again. I chose to scavenge the internet for crumbs in the form of freelancing and content creation (writing mainly). The ultimate plan was to establish a small business big enough to sustain my small family.
Then, something happened.
The owner of a big and standard faith-based school called me to help him out. He wanted me to head the school in terms of both human and material administration. Because of my faith, I couldn't say no. I didn't even bother to discuss my potential salary. I took up the job in 2023. I'm now almost two years into it, and it's been one hell of a roller coaster ride.
I thought managing material resources would be difficult, not knowing that it would be a child's play compared to managing humans - the workers, especially the teachers. Some of the teachers simply don't want to work while many of those who may not be accused of not wanting to work prefer to do it without being told how to do it. In other words, humans simply prefer not to be queried or questioned about what they do.
A particular incident always amuses me each time I remember it. One of the female teachers came to ask permission to be off work the following day on health grounds. I granted her the permission without much inquiry, only to meet her at a child dedication ceremony the same day she was supposed to be in the hospital. I pretended as if I didn't see her that day. A few weeks later, she requested another permission on health grounds, I simply told her to waive the pay for that day if she must be absent. It may seem harsh, but it was much needed.
That's from the part of the staff. A more topical part is that of the management and societal perspective of the teaching profession. Without mincing words, Nigerian society simply doesn't see teachers as deserving of a decent life - the basic necessities of life. In my city, our school ranks in the top 5 as far as teacher's salaries are concerned. Guess the amount we pay staff? An average of 55,000 Naira (approximately $35) per month. This amount can hardly buy half of a bag of rice in the present economy. If you ask in other cities within the country, a similar trend is what would be discovered.
There are outliers here and there but we are talking about the majority. Some days ago, due to pressure from some parents, I decided to organize a special extra lesson for some academically weak pupils. I discussed with the teachers to be utilized for this lesson and billed the parents accordingly. To my chagrin, some of the parents complained of the cost as being too much. How much did I charge? The sum of 5,000 (approximately $3) for up to 8 hours of lesson period per subject.
It's really amusing. How do we expect teachers to be able to afford basic life if we are finding it difficult to pay them basic wages? These are professionals who are expected to train other professionals such as engineers, doctors, nurses, etc.
The plight of teachers doesn't end with low wages. It extends to societal respect or lack thereof. A parent once questioned why a teacher would ask for extra materials for a class, claiming, "What do they even do apart from sitting and writing on the board?" It’s disheartening that many fail to recognize the intellectual and emotional investment required to educate children. Teachers are role models, counselors, disciplinarians, and sometimes surrogate parents, yet their efforts are often undervalued.
In trying to improve the working conditions, I’ve proposed some initiatives at the school. For example, we began offering lunch to teachers during school hours. While this gesture was appreciated, it also highlighted how dire the situation was—something as basic as a meal made a significant difference. However, there’s only so much one can do when resources are limited. Every attempt to increase salaries or provide additional benefits meets resistance from parents and school proprietors alike.
The parents’ perspective also deserves scrutiny. Many of them are struggling to make ends meet, and education costs often feel like a luxury. Yet, education is not an area where corners should be cut. Investing in quality education means investing in the future of society. It’s a long-term commitment that pays dividends in the form of well-rounded, competent professionals who contribute meaningfully to the economy and community.
Despite these challenges, I’ve found moments of joy and fulfillment. Watching a struggling student improve, thanks to the dedication of their teacher, reminds me why I took this role. There’s an undeniable sense of purpose in being part of a system that shapes lives. But the question remains: how sustainable is this purpose when the system itself is so broken?
The teaching profession needs a cultural shift—one that begins with acknowledgment and respect. Teachers deserve better pay, professional development opportunities, and recognition for their contributions. They shouldn’t have to rely on their passion alone to keep going. Governments and private school owners need to prioritize education by allocating sufficient budgets and creating policies that protect teachers' welfare.
For my part, I’ve resolved to keep advocating for these changes. It’s not enough to complain about the system; action, however small, is necessary. Whether it’s lobbying for policy reforms or simply ensuring the teachers in my school feel valued, every step counts. I hope to inspire others in similar roles to do the same.
Teachers are the bedrock of society, and it’s high time we start treating them as such.
Thank you for reading.
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