Millennium Goal: 25 Years After, The Realities of Basic Education in Nigeria

By Somadina Eugene-Okorie 

In the early 1990s, a jingle floated across Nigeria’s airwaves like a national promise:
“Join us / Come with us / We are on our way / Education for all by the year 2000…”

That hopeful campaign, launched by the National Orientation Agency, was more than a catchy tune. It was a declaration of intent, a collective vision that every Nigerian child would have access to quality basic education by the new millennium. But more than two decades after that ambitious target, the dream lies broken, the tune reduced to a mere echo of lost promises.

Today, Nigeria remains one of the world’s largest contributors to the global population of out-of-school children. According to a 2023 UNESCO report, over 20.2 million Nigerian children are out of school. Northern Nigeria bears the brunt, with almost 50% of this number concentrated in states such as Zamfara, Kebbi, and Borno, where primary school attendance barely crosses 47%. In contrast, the South-East records an out-of-school rate of just 6%, while the South-West averages around 8%.

But beneath these regional disparities lies a deeper crisis: one of poor administration, neglected infrastructure, and an education sector mired in systemic dysfunction.

The Vanishing Glory of Community Schools

Anyone who grew up in Nigeria in the 1980s and early 1990s remembers when community primary schools were the pride of towns and villages in the country. These schools, though modest, operated on a solid structure. They had trained teachers, form teachers, learning materials, and a palpable sense of discipline. Basic education was truly foundational, hence producing pupils who, even with a Standard Six certificate, could compete intellectually across global settings.

Fast forward to today, and those same schools have become shadows of themselves. In Imo, Kogi, Plateau, and Oyo, many are now in very poor condition. Crumbling walls, overgrown weeds, classrooms without furniture, and teachers without morale. In several northern states, the situation is even more severe, with some communities lacking any formal structures at all.

In my personal evaluation of basic education in Imo, my home state, I was dumbfounded to my bones upon discovering that the state government assigns just two teachers to each community school, and in very rare cases when you find more than two teachers in a school, the community is paying from its private purse.

Consequently, in some other parts of the country, state governments are returning community schools to their original missionary owners, citing heritage and quality. However, this trend raises serious concerns about access. Once public institutions are handed to private missions, the poor are often priced out, and the ability of the government to regulate quality or enforce inclusivity diminishes. This is, in essence, a quiet abdication of responsibility.

The Perception of Underfunding: A Convenient Distraction

A popular narrative suggests that Nigeria’s education crisis stems from chronic underfunding. But the reality paints a more troubling picture. For instance, in 2022 alone, the Universal Basic Education Commission (UBEC) reported over ₦54 billion in unaccessed intervention funds due to the failure of state governments to provide commensurate results of fundings received from international donors.

In the 2024 budget, Nigeria allocated ₦1.54 trillion to education. This is approximately 7.9% of the national budget. Even though the quoted amount falls short of the 15–20% benchmark as advised by UNESCO, it, however, highlights a deeper problem: appropriation and utilization, not necessarily volume. Funds are frequently mismanaged, misapplied, or lost in bureaucratic black holes.

Take, for example, the recent case involving the Nigerian Student Loan Scheme. The ICPC alleged in May 2025 that out of the ₦100 billion released for the scheme, only ₦28.8 billion reached the intended beneficiaries. While the managing agency, NELFUND, has denied that any of such happened, the confusion alone exposes the systemic administrative lapses plaguing government education interventions.

Administration, Not Allocation, is the Real Crisis

The foundational rot does not lie in how much is budgeted, but in how those budgets are executed or appropriated. Nigeria’s education sector suffers from a deficit of effective planning, data management, transparency, and accountability. More often than not, teacher recruitment is riddled with nepotism; performance metrics are nearly non-existent, and political interference distorts policy continuity.

Contrast this with Rwanda, which allocates 15% of its national budget to education and achieves far better learning outcomes. Or Finland, where the secret isn’t oversized budgets but strong administrative culture, teacher autonomy, and policy consistency.

A National Policy, Not Political Rhetoric

Education, particularly at the basic level, must be treated like aviation—a non-negotiable sector that transcends politics. Just as safety and operational standards in aviation are insulated from successive changes of government or political rhetoric, basic education must be standardised as a national policy priority.

Each administration should produce a comprehensive, realistic roadmap for basic education, with clear targets and transparent implementation strategies. And critically, there must be a structured mechanism for handing over progress reports to incoming governments to ensure continuity and prevent policy resets every four years.

What the Next 25 Years Must Look Like

The last 25 years have largely failed the Nigerian child, but that does not have to define the next 25. The federal government must legislate basic education as a constitutional right, with legal consequences for states and individuals who sabotage its delivery.

A bill should be passed criminalising the embezzlement or misappropriation of education funds, carrying severe penalties to deter future offenders. Education must be deregulated—not to privatise it, but to decentralise accountability and embed it in the national conscience.

Focus on Rural Nigeria

Reviving basic education means focusing efforts where the need is greatest, in this case, the rural areas. According to the World Bank, 53% of Nigeria’s 213 million population now live in urban areas. That means rural populations, though shrinking, remain largely underserved.

Rural Nigeria is home to the most vulnerable children—those that are most likely to drop out or never enter the classroom at all. Poor infrastructure, inadequate teacher deployment, insecurity, and socio-cultural barriers continue to prevent millions from accessing education. A national basic education revival must prioritise rural teacher incentives, mobile learning units, digital education hubs, and grassroots community engagement to make learning accessible in remote areas.

A Call to Conscience, Not Just Government

This article is not written to score political points or criticise any specific administration. Rather, it is a call to national conscience—a call for every Nigerian government, current and future, to treat basic education as a moral, economic, and political imperative.

Perhaps it is time to reinvent the old campaign jingle—not just as nostalgia, but as a renewed national movement. Through the National Orientation Agency, a new campaign can rally government, private sector, communities, and individuals around a single goal: restoring quality basic education for every Nigerian child.

In conclusion, even though funding matters, effective administration matters even more. If even 50% of what is currently budgeted were properly applied, Nigeria could dramatically reduce its out-of-school population within a decade.

Let us stop mistaking noise for progress. Let us stop calling for more funds without first fixing the pipes that leak them. And let us begin—I mean truly begin—to make basic education a national constant, not a political afterthought.

Because 25 years from now, we will either celebrate a success story we built or mourn another generation we abandoned.

Somadina Eugene-Okorie ESQ.
Advocate, Intellectual Property/Business Solicitor, writes from Lekki, Lagos, Nigeria.