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‎NOT A PLAN B: Why Nigeria Must Stop Treating Education as a Dumping Ground, By Dr. Nike Sulyman-Gidado

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‎When 17-year-old Owoade Mariam scored 278 in the Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination (UTME), everyone expected her to choose Medicine, Law, or Engineering. But she stunned everyone she chose Education. And suddenly, the same voices that once praised her brilliance turned to confusion and criticism.

‎“Why would someone so intelligent waste a score like that on Education?”

‎“You deserve better.”

‎“You should be in Medicine!”

‎No, she wasn’t wasting anything. She wasn’t settling. Mariam made a conscious, courageous choice one rooted in passion, clarity, and purpose. She knew her calling: to teach. But in Nigeria, choosing to become a teacher is often perceived as failure. Faculties of Education are treated as the last resort the destination for those who didn’t “make it” elsewhere. The prevailing narrative is disheartening: if you can’t gain admission into Medicine, Law, or Engineering, then you “settle” for Education. This mindset is not just flawed it is a national crisis.

‎Mariam went on to earn 11 A’s and 1 B in her first semester. Her brilliance caught the attention of the Head of Physics, who offered her a departmental transfer with future guarantees. She declined not because she lacked ambition, but because she had one. She wasn’t chasing prestige; she was committed to shaping lives. Yet, in this same country, the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) recently pegged the cut-off mark for admission into Colleges of Education at 100. Not 180. Not even 150. Just 100.

‎Let that sink in.

‎To study Medicine or Law, you need over 200. But to teach the future doctors and lawyers? Just 100 suffices. Even more ironic, many of our best graduates in Medicine, Law, and Engineering are eventually compensated by returning them to the classroom as lecturers and often  obtain a Postgraduate Diploma in Education (PGDE) and later secure certification from the Teachers Registration Council of Nigeria (TRCN). They become teachers too only now, we call them “university lecturers.” And we pretend they’re different. This contradiction is deeply troubling.

‎In Finland, teaching is one of the most prestigious professions. Only the top 10% of graduates are admitted into teacher training programmes. Teachers hold Master’s degrees, enjoy high pay, and command deep respect. In Singapore, only the best candidates are selected to teach, and they receive world-class training with clear pathways for professional growth. In Rwanda, a country that rebuilt itself after genocide, education was placed at the heart of national development by first empowering and investing in teachers.

‎But in Nigeria? We tell our brightest minds they are “too good” to teach.

‎This is madness.

‎Every time WAEC, NECO, or JAMB results are released, we lament the poor performance of students. But we rarely acknowledge that behind every struggling student may be an unsupported, underpaid, and undervalued teacher. We want excellent lawyers, but undervalue those who teach them. We demand 21st-century doctors, but equip their teachers with 19th-century resources. We dream of a knowledge-driven economy, but degrade the very people who transmit that knowledge.

‎As the late Dr. Myles Munroe famously said, “When purpose is not known, abuse is inevitable.” Nigeria is abusing the teaching profession because we have lost sight of its true purpose and power.

‎Let’s be clear: