King's College is a household name in Nigeria; A citadel of learning that was once the pride of the then colony. Though it was established after seven others, it outstripped them having been patterned to match the priceless quality of education the then missionaries sought to establish in the country. Henry Rawlings Carr was the grand architect of this. He persuaded the then London Board of Education to build the school in other to stand as a supplement education initiative of missionary societies and a reckoning force in academic excellence with the King's College in London. The efforts, quality time, resources and manpower that the colonial masters put into the establishment of the institution although for their selfish gains, gave birth to most of the best brains the country has ever had. The Soyinkas, Adenugas, Sanusis, Enahoros, Davies, Herbert Mills, Macauleys, J.C Vaughans, and...of course, the list is inexhaustible...are all living testimonies. The transparent scholarships on free tuition and annual grant of 6pounds to deserving beneficiaries, donation of free academic materials to the poor were just few incentives that ensured students drilled themselves for only the best.
108years after, the school is still standing; better off with "seemingly" state of the art academic complex, quality academic equipment and one of the best conducive learning environments in the country. For the quality of students produced now, can we most assuredly preach the same sermon? With the encounter I had this past week with Tolu and Daniel, both SS3 students of the well revered academic hub, I honestly doubt if my answer would be even in the weakest affirmation. For students wanting to sit for their GCE not to know anything about Parts of Speech apart from the normal verbal rhetorical rhyme of the meaning of noun, pronoun and verb, and the simple test of SIMPLIFY in maths (two subjects that are the basis for learning others) pushed me to ask what they've been doing for the past five years of being in the school. Anyway, I can't just make conclusions with such an infinitesimal number, I just hope this isn't the fate of many in the school I most revere.


Pls, visit our Facebook page, Eduland to view more posts.

King's College is a household name in Nigeria; A citadel of learning that was once the pride of the then colony. Though it was established after seven others, it outstripped them having been patterned to match the priceless quality of education the then missionaries sought to establish in the country. Henry Rawlings Carr was the grand architect of this. He persuaded the then London Board of Education to build the school in other to stand as a supplement education initiative of missionary societies and a reckoning force in academic excellence with the King's College in London. The efforts, quality time, resources and manpower that the colonial masters put into the establishment of the institution although for their selfish gains, gave birth to most of the best brains the country has ever had. The Soyinkas, Adenugas, Sanusis, Enahoros, Davies, Herbert Mills, Macauleys, J.C Vaughans, and...of course, the list is inexhaustible...are all living testimonies. The transparent scholarships on free tuition and annual grant of 6pounds to deserving beneficiaries, donation of free academic materials to the poor were just few incentives that ensured students drilled themselves for only the best.
108years after, the school is still standing; better off with "seemingly" state of the art academic complex, quality academic equipment and one of the best conducive learning environments in the country. For the quality of students produced now, can we most assuredly preach the same sermon? With the encounter I had this past week with Tolu and Daniel, both SS3 students of the well revered academic hub, I honestly doubt if my answer would be even in the weakest affirmation. For students wanting to sit for their GCE not to know anything about Parts of Speech apart from the normal verbal rhetorical rhyme of the meaning of noun, pronoun and verb, and the simple test of SIMPLIFY in maths (two subjects that are the basis for learning others) pushed me to ask what they've been doing for the past five years of being in the school. Anyway, I can't just make conclusions with such an infinitesimal number, I just hope this isn't the fate of many in the school I most revere.
Pls, visit our Facebook page, Eduland to view more posts.

@sinkhole...my dear my issue with our government is the misplacement of value and priority which I think is concerted and of course, for propaganda purposes. How much value does food add to the education of the ordinary/average student than academic materials?

Lol...@sexymoma...atleast producing kids was only laudable

BETWEEN POPOOLA AND HIS FATHER

I leave in a "face-me-I-face-you" house where everything goes. You could wake up looking for your slippers you left at your doorstep or your pant you forgot to take inside last night. Pieces of meat and fish missing in pots of soup still on fire was a daily single story; you would understand why my younger brother was always assigned to keep watch whenever we were cooking. But aside the insecurity, nothing could be heart aching than the deafening sound of condemned and smoke pumping small generators some neighbours would stubbornly struggle to kick on at that time sleep seems to have penetrated your skull. More so, the interesting fight between mama Okoro and her husband, and the abusive nagging mama Idowu wakes her children with early in the morning confront a decent mind with the option of stealing in order to rent a self-contained apartment and pack out the next hour.
Just this morning, Mama Popoola was on it again. I had barely ended my morning devotion when her voice started paying homage to the still gently resurrecting early morning of 6. The harshness and thunder in her voice would make even the lunatic maintain decorum. I hope God would understand why my prayers were discontinued. By the time I went out, the whole neighbours had already assembled. Popoola was in the pool of blood. Last term it was his elder sister and today, the first day of the second term, when other children were preparing to resume school, the poor boy would fall victim of his father's callousness and transferred aggression. To help out, we, the concerned neighbours needed to calm his mother and get the real gist especially to aid the trade of certified gossipers in the house.
Well, Popoola, a 15year old, SS2 student of Government Secondary School, Idiapo, woke up with his siblings this morning feeling excited and very eager to resume school. He had helped his two younger brothers with bathing as his elder sister bathed the other three. Aside unveiling him as the class captain today for his outstanding performance in school in the previous term, Popoola was to receive his class materials so he needed to resume early. In the heat of this exuberance, he approached his father to remind him, of course, very politely as his nature was, of the books he promised to purchase for him and his siblings. The rest was the story that created the scene we saw. His father made him his morning punching bag; at least he saved his father the stress and money of going to the gym. Popoola's mother who was in the kitchen watching over the fish-less soup and "eba" she was preparing at the time, couldn't hesitate to save her son. Popoola was already lying almost lifeless on the rough floor at her intervention and, you could now understand why her voice thundered.
The best we could do as neighbours was obvious. We rushed him to the hospital and the old hopeless father of his who was just good in producing children was assisted to offset the bills.
This is just one example of the unimaginable, numerous little things that deny children good education in Nigeria. With important issues as inability to purchase books and other education materials, Government is offering to feed students. Of course, we should be prepared to turn our schools into restaurants.

BETWEEN POPOOLA AND HIS FATHER

I leave in a "face-me-I-face-you" house where everything goes. You could wake up looking for your slippers you left at your doorstep or your pant you forgot to take inside last night. Pieces of meat and fish missing in pots of soup still on fire was a daily single story; you would understand why my younger brother was always assigned to keep watch whenever we were cooking. But aside the insecurity, nothing could be heart aching than the deafening sound of condemned and smoke pumping small generators some neighbours would stubbornly struggle to kick on at that time sleep seems to have penetrated your skull. More so, the interesting fight between mama Okoro and her husband, and the abusive nagging mama Idowu wakes her children with early in the morning confront a decent mind with the option of stealing in order to rent a self-contained apartment and pack out the next hour.
Just this morning, Mama Popoola was on it again. I had barely ended my morning devotion when her voice started paying homage to the still gently resurrecting early morning of 6. The harshness and thunder in her voice would make even the lunatic maintain decorum. I hope God would understand why my prayers were discontinued. By the time I went out, the whole neighbours had already assembled. Popoola was in the pool of blood. Last term it was his elder sister and today, the first day of the second term, when other children were preparing to resume school, the poor boy would fall victim of his father's callousness and transferred aggression. To help out, we, the concerned neighbours needed to calm his mother and get the real gist especially to aid the trade of certified gossipers in the house.
Well, Popoola, a 15year old, SS2 student of Government Secondary School, Idiapo, woke up with his siblings this morning feeling excited and very eager to resume school. He had helped his two younger brothers with bathing as his elder sister bathed the other three. Aside unveiling him as the class captain today for his outstanding performance in school in the previous term, Popoola was to receive his class materials so he needed to resume early. In the heat of this exuberance, he approached his father to remind him, of course, very politely as his nature was, of the books he promised to purchase for him and his siblings. The rest was the story that created the scene we saw. His father made him his morning punching bag; at least he saved his father the stress and money of going to the gym. Popoola's mother who was in the kitchen watching over the fish-less soup and "eba" she was preparing at the time, couldn't hesitate to save her son. Popoola was already lying almost lifeless on the rough floor at her intervention and, you could now understand why her voice thundered.
The best we could do as neighbours was obvious. We rushed him to the hospital and the old hopeless father of his who was just good in producing children was assisted to offset the bills.
This is just one example of the unimaginable, numerous little things that deny children good education in Nigeria. With important issues as inability to purchase books and other education materials, Government is offering to feed students. Of course, we should be prepared to turn our schools into restaurants.

BETWEEN POPOOLA AND HIS FATHER

I leave in a "face-me-I-face-you" house where everything goes. You could wake up looking for your slippers you left at your doorstep or your pant you forgot to take inside last night. Pieces of meat and fish missing in pots of soup still on fire was a daily single story; you would understand why my younger brother was always assigned to keep watch whenever we were cooking. But aside the insecurity, nothing could be heart aching than the deafening sound of condemned and smoke pumping small generators some neighbours would stubbornly struggle to kick on at that time sleep seems to have penetrated your skull. More so, the interesting fight between mama Okoro and her husband, and the abusive nagging mama Idowu wakes her children with early in the morning confront a decent mind with the option of stealing in order to rent a self-contained apartment and pack out the next hour.
Just this morning, Mama Popoola was on it again. I had barely ended my morning devotion when her voice started paying homage to the still gently resurrecting early morning of 6. The harshness and thunder in her voice would make even the lunatic maintain decorum. I hope God would understand why my prayers were discontinued. By the time I went out, the whole neighbours had already assembled. Popoola was in the pool of blood. Last term it was his elder sister and today, the first day of the second term, when other children were preparing to resume school, the poor boy would fall victim of his father's callousness and transferred aggression. To help out, we, the concerned neighbours needed to calm his mother and get the real gist especially to aid the trade of certified gossipers in the house.
Well, Popoola, a 15year old, SS2 student of Government Secondary School, Idiapo, woke up with his siblings this morning feeling excited and very eager to resume school. He had helped his two younger brothers with bathing as his elder sister bathed the other three. Aside unveiling him as the class captain today for his outstanding performance in school in the previous term, Popoola was to receive his class materials so he needed to resume early. In the heat of this exuberance, he approached his father to remind him, of course, very politely as his nature was, of the books he promised to purchase for him and his siblings. The rest was the story that created the scene we saw. His father made him his morning punching bag; at least he saved his father the stress and money of going to the gym. Popoola's mother who was in the kitchen watching over the fish-less soup and "eba" she was preparing at the time, couldn't hesitate to save her son. Popoola was already lying almost lifeless on the rough floor at her intervention and, you could now understand why her voice thundered.
The best we could do as neighbours was obvious. We rushed him to the hospital and the old hopeless father of his who was just good in producing children was assisted to offset the bills.
This is just one example of the unimaginable, numerous little things that deny children good education in Nigeria. With important issues as inability to purchase books and other education materials, Government is offering to feed students. Of course, we should be prepared to turn our schools into restaurants.

Lol...Well, high schools are now called secondary schools. Initially, they were high schools until recently.
My point though is that government established schools at the primary level rarely existed in my area. Government's irresponsibility was so obvious that a single individual sponsored the education of the entire local government at the primary level. And the negligence of the so called government owned High schools as they were called during my time, was at its apogee.

WHY I HATED HIGH SCHOOLS.
As a child, I grew up knowing I and everybody in my community would access primary education through only one man, ABC Orjiako, the father and hero of the elementary kids. He was the sole sponsor of our education at the primary level, not just for our community, but our entire local government.
Who knew government then? Orjiako was more popular and pronounced among the teachers and pupils than the President or Governor because he was our only source of hope: hope of learning; of a future, a destiny and fulfilment of dreams. We adored him, sang marching songs and, were terrified at just the mention of his name. In fact, he was a god to us.
But I grew up learning and unlearning a lot. As my consciousness advanced, I was soon to be confronted with facts and reality. I never thought, like my schoolmates, that the government owned schools. I grew up knowing just one man as the sponsor of education. I was to be posted to a government owned secondary school (high school). Of course, I was happy to have graduated from the primary school but, to go to a high school like Uli boys? That I would never consider myself accepting. Outright rejection greeted the letter at home as my mother who had been waiting anxiously for my high school posting had already made up her mind never to have me join the "bad empty-heads in the high schools." That was the rhetoric of few informed parents in the village when describing the bizarreness of students and education in high schools. Thanks to goodness they are moribund especially in the South East, the Igbo land.
Yes, I am happy they are for serious reasons. High school is yet another expression of the irresponsibility of the Nigerian government and one that ensures their unpopularity especially amongst pupils and students at that. Had you taken a trip to any of these schools, you would probably have understood the dehumanization and defrauding of students of those schools. The dilapidation and decay of infrastructure, polluted learning environments, nonchalance of clearly unqualified teachers who are unrepentant sycophants to political godfathers, start the list of heart wrecking conditions in high schools. Indiscipline is the commonest lesson the so-called teachers give the students every hour of the school periods. That is why the Police never lacked around the vicinity of most of these schools to haul cultists movements and weapon fights, Uli Boys was a living example.
Government has always touted how its presence is heavily felt in grassroot education and I ask where, when and how? Because as I child, I never knew government was to be responsible for my education and when I got to know, my experience gave me more convictions that government doesn't know about the existence of high schools. With the state of high schools, one would only conclude that government doesn't know about their existence. If they knew, as humans they are, they would have a feeling, at least, of sorry.
I could imagine why a colleague had reasoned that they were like orphans in their high school days. They hardly understood they were there to learn until they got out. While I wished ABC Orjiako had enough money to continue my training up to secondary level, I was and will be profoundly grateful to God because my parents could afford my private secondary school financial obligations. What about the financially unfortunate of today? Will this government ever be responsible on this one thing?

WHY I HATED HIGH SCHOOLS.
As a child, I grew up knowing I and everybody in my community would access primary education through only one man, ABC Orjiako, the father and hero of the elementary kids. He was the sole sponsor of our education at the primary level, not just for our community, but our entire local government.
Who knew government then? Orjiako was more popular and pronounced among the teachers and pupils than the President or Governor because he was our only source of hope: hope of learning; of a future, a destiny and fulfilment of dreams. We adored him, sang marching songs and, were terrified at just the mention of his name. In fact, he was a god to us.
But I grew up learning and unlearning a lot. As my consciousness advanced, I was soon to be confronted with facts and reality. I never thought, like my schoolmates, that the government owned schools. I grew up knowing just one man as the sponsor of education. I was to be posted to a government owned secondary school (high school). Of course, I was happy to have graduated from the primary school but, to go to a high school like Uli boys? That I would never consider myself accepting. Outright rejection greeted the letter at home as my mother who had been waiting anxiously for my high school posting had already made up her mind never to have me join the "bad empty-heads in the high schools." That was the rhetoric of few informed parents in the village when describing the bizarreness of students and education in high schools. Thanks to goodness they are moribund especially in the South East, the Igbo land.
Yes, I am happy they are for serious reasons. High school is yet another expression of the irresponsibility of the Nigerian government and one that ensures their unpopularity especially amongst pupils and students at that. Had you taken a trip to any of these schools, you would probably have understood the dehumanization and defrauding of students of those schools. The dilapidation and decay of infrastructure, polluted learning environments, nonchalance of clearly unqualified teachers who are unrepentant sycophants to political godfathers, start the list of heart wrecking conditions in high schools. Indiscipline is the commonest lesson the so-called teachers give the students every hour of the school periods. That is why the Police never lacked around the vicinity of most of these schools to haul cultists movements and weapon fights, Uli Boys was a living example.
Government has always touted how its presence is heavily felt in grassroot education and I ask where, when and how? Because as I child, I never knew government was to be responsible for my education and when I got to know, my experience gave me more convictions that government doesn't know about the existence of high schools. With the state of high schools, one would only conclude that government doesn't know about their existence. If they knew, as humans they are, they would have a feeling, at least, of sorry.
I could imagine why a colleague had reasoned that they were like orphans in their high school days. They hardly understood they were there to learn until they got out. While I wished ABC Orjiako had enough money to continue my training up to secondary level, I was and will be profoundly grateful to God because my parents could afford my private secondary school financial obligations. What about the financially unfortunate of today? Will this government ever be responsible on this one thing?

From Eduland, a Facebook page


WHAT ABOUT THESE CHILDREN
Have you ever seen it yourself or have you been told? Have you really imagined or given it a thought? Do you know how it feels to be poor?
Wait a sec! Don't be angered by my rhetorical questions. Of course, I know a lot of people reading this have either experienced poverty or are likely under its dehumanising spell. But there are those who know the true meaning of poverty. People like this...
...I was on the phone with a friend on 25th, Dec, 2015. We were doing the normal guy thing on the phone...a bosom friend I had not seen or heard from over a year, you should imagine how wacky we would sound. We shared both true and...you know na...boys lies we've had in the past year. His new "bae" took the later greater part of our chat.
The euphoria of our seeming endless talk had taken the better of us when it all went wrong. A sudden silence visited my phone and my thought, the obvious. After my hellos fell dead on the ears of my disconnected friend, I managed to grudgingly put off the call and headed to WhatsApp to find succour for my loneliness.
Minutes later, I received an image message and it was from my friend. I rushed and opened it. I was confused as I didn't understand why he sent me such bizarre images of a battered child. At the same time my mind was already restless and terribly disturbed by such horrific pictures of a child whose back skin was completely ripped off and utterly destroyed by presumably a hot iron. I was yet captivated in my shock when my friend, Oscar, followed the images with a message which read " bro, u can just see why I was off the phone at that time. The little boy you see in those pictures ran into our compound in a pull of blood. While he explained, he became unconscious and was rushed to the hospital. It was gathered his step mother is responsible. She accused him of stealing food from her pot today and the rest is inexpressible."
At this point, I didn't understand what my feeling was. Aside my unreserved empathy for the boy, unprecedented anger had just possessed me and I could see my cold body burn in terrible temperament. Had I been there, the "Jezebel would have her wicked self to blame" I muttered.
Well, this is not the first time and it certainly won't be the last to hear this sort of ugly story. The boy has lost his mother just like other many children who are either motherless or orphans. The untold hardships and excruciating pains they are subjected to either by their stepmothers, guardians or custodians will rent hearts and pull stream of tears. Have you seen these children? They are the ones experiencing true poverty. You know why? Poverty is best defined and felt in loneliness. They are both deserted and un-cattered for. They grow up with heart and emotional scars and intractable conflict of goodness and badness. They live around us and need just some kindness.
My question: did or will you reach out to children like the motherless Prince this season?

WHAT ABOUT THESE CHILDREN

Have you ever seen it yourself or have you been told? Have you really imagined or given it a thought? Do you know how it feels to be poor?
Wait a sec! Don't be angered by my rhetorical questions. Of course, I know a lot of people reading this have either experienced poverty or are likely under its dehumanising spell. But there are those who know the true meaning of poverty. People like this...

...I was on the phone with a friend on 25th, Dec, 2015. We were doing the normal guy thing on the phone...a bosom friend I had not seen or heard from over a year, you should imagine how wacky we would sound. We shared both true and...you know na...boys lies we've had in the past year. His new "bae" took the later greater part of our chat.
The euphoria of our seeming endless talk had taken the better of us when it all went wrong. A sudden silence visited my phone and my thought, the obvious. After my hellos fell dead on the ears of my disconnected friend, I managed to grudgingly put off the call and headed to WhatsApp to find succour for my loneliness.
Minutes later, I received an image message and it was from my friend. I rushed and opened it. I was confused as I didn't understand why he sent me such bizarre images of a battered child. At the same time my mind was already restless and terribly disturbed by such horrific pictures of a child whose back skin was completely ripped off and utterly destroyed by presumably a hot iron. I was yet captivated in my shock when my friend, Oscar, followed the images with a message which read " bro, u can just see why I was off the phone at that time. The little boy you see in those pictures ran into our compound in a pull of blood. While he explained, he became unconscious and was rushed to the hospital. It was gathered his step mother is responsible. She accused him of stealing food from her pot today and the rest is inexpressible."
At this point, I didn't understand what my feeling was. Aside my unreserved empathy for the boy, unprecedented anger had just possessed me and I could see my cold body burn in terrible temperament. Had I been there, the "Jezebel would have her wicked self to blame" I muttered.
Well, this is not the first time and it certainly won't be the last to hear this sort of ugly story. The boy has lost his mother just like other many children who are either motherless or orphans. The untold hardships and excruciating pains they are subjected to either by their stepmothers, guardians or custodians will rent hearts and pull stream of tears. Have you seen these children? They are the ones experiencing WHAT ABOUT THESE CHILDREN

Have you ever seen it yourself or have you been told? Have you really imagined or given it a thought? Do you know how it feels to be poor?
Wait a sec! Don't be angered by my rhetorical questions. Of course, I know a lot of people reading this have either experienced poverty or are likely under its dehumanising spell. But there are those who know the true meaning of poverty. People like this...

...I was on the phone with a friend on 25th, Dec, 2015. We were doing the normal guy thing on the phone...a bosom friend I had not seen or heard from over a year, you should imagine how wacky we would sound. We shared both true and...you know na...boys lies we've had in the past year. His new "bae" took the later greater part of our chat.
The euphoria of our seeming endless talk had taken the better of us when it all went wrong. A sudden silence visited my phone and my thought, the obvious. After my hellos fell dead on the ears of my disconnected friend, I managed to grudgingly put off the call and headed to WhatsApp to find succour for my loneliness.
Minutes later, I received an image message and it was from my friend. I rushed and opened it. I was confused as I didn't understand why he sent me such bizarre images of a battered child. At the same time my mind was already restless and terribly disturbed by such horrific pictures of a child whose back skin was completely ripped off and utterly destroyed by presumably a hot iron. I was yet captivated in my shock when my friend, Oscar, followed the images with a message which read " bro, u can just see why I was off the phone at that time. The little boy you see in those pictures ran into our compound in a pull of blood. While he explained, he became unconscious and was rushed to the hospital. It was gathered his step mother is responsible. She accused him of stealing food from her pot today and the rest is inexpressible."
At this point, I didn't understand what my feeling was. Aside my unreserved empathy for the boy, unprecedented anger had just possessed me and I could see my cold body burn in terrible temperament. Had I been there, the "Jezebel would have her wicked self to blame" I muttered.
Well, this is not the first time and it certainly won't be the last to hear this sort of ugly story. The boy has lost his mother just like other many children who are either motherless or orphans. The untold hardships and excruciating pains they are subjected to either by their stepmothers, guardians or custodians will rent hearts and pull stream of tears. Have you seen these children? They are the ones experiencing true poverty. You know why? Poverty is best defined and felt in loneliness. They are both deserted and un-cattered for. They grow up with heart and emotional scars and intractable conflict of goodness and badness. They live around us and need just some kindness.
My question: did or will you reach out to children like the motherless Prince this season?

WHAT ABOUT THESE CHILDREN

Have you ever seen it yourself or have you been told? Have you really imagined or given it a thought? Do you know how it feels to be poor?
Wait a sec! Don't be angered by my rhetorical questions. Of course, I know a lot of people reading this have either experienced poverty or are likely under its dehumanising spell. But there are those who know the true meaning of poverty. People like this...

...I was on the phone with a friend on 25th, Dec, 2015. We were doing the normal guy thing on the phone...a bosom friend I had not seen or heard from over a year, you should imagine how wacky we would sound. We shared both true and...you know na...boys lies we've had in the past year. His new "bae" took the later greater part of our chat.
The euphoria of our seeming endless talk had taken the better of us when it all went wrong. A sudden silence visited my phone and my thought, the oblivious. After my hellos fell dead on the ears of my disconnected friend, I managed to grudgingly put off the call and headed to WhatsApp to find succour for my loneliness.
Minutes later, I received an image message and it was from my friend. I rushed and opened it. I was confused as I didn't understand why he sent me such bizarre images of a battered child. At the same time my mind was already restless and terribly disturbed by such horrific pictures of a child whose back skin was completely ripped off and utterly destroyed by presumably a hot iron. I was yet captivated in my shock when my friend, Oscar, followed the images with a message which read " bro, u can just see why I was off the phone at that time. The little boy you see in those pictures ran into our compound in a pull of blood. While he explained, he became unconscious and was rushed to the hospital. It was gathered his step mother is responsible. She accused him of stealing food from her pot today and the rest is inexpressible."
At this point, I didn't understand what my feeling was. Unprecedented anger had just possessed me and I could see my cold body burn in terrible temperament. Had I been there, the "Jezebel would have her wicked self to blame" I muttered.
Well, this is not the first time and it certainly won't be the last to hear this sort of ugly story. The boy has lost his mother just like other many children who are either motherless or orphans. The untold hardships and excruciating pains they are subjected to either by their stepmothers, guardians or custodians will rent hearts and pull stream of tears. Have you seen these children? They are the ones experiencing true poverty. You know why? Poverty is best defined and felt in loneliness. My question: did or will you reach out to children like the motherless Prince.

Samgreguc:
The Mr. sef.... while ASUU was on strike, he was busy making moves to
resuscitate the defunct Northern Nigeria
Board for Arabic and Islamic Studies,NBAIS,
using funds from the federation account.

while many federal schools had crisis, he was buay talking of merging IRS &CRS.

To cap it all, he succeeded in scrapping of P-UTME without strengthening the credibility of Jamb.

I feel he always talks and goes off.

You know I had wanted to talk about that Nigerian Board for Arabic and Islamic Studies. Let me find stand to ward off bias first.

That Maluu? whitlow catch am for mouth...he has not yet recovered

That Maluu? whitlow catch for mouth...he has not yet recovered

Did you know why education is key?
oosh! I didn't mean key, as in key.
Education is key has really become a universal cliche in the oddity of expressions. But barely a few have bothered their brain to rack out the meaning. Relax OK, let me help.
First, understand my single line definition of education: education is learning and the process of adding value. So whatever value, information or knowledge you have is education. Now you don't think education to be the learning in schools; that's just a part.
So why is education key?
1. Without education you wouldn't probably exist. Your parents wouldn't know where to do some play on their body to set your creation in process.
2. Education made us know schools do not make us rather, they aid us make ourselves
3. With education we know everyday must begin and end with prayers.
4. With education we know to abort babies and masturbate are both bad
5. With education we know that Minister Liar Mohammed lies so much and...
6. ...with education we that the CHANGE govt have only 2years left.
Did you learn something?

From Eduland, a Facebook page.

Adamu Adamu please, talk.

When last did you hear from him? Have you even heard from him at all since the assumption of office of this administration. Well, I have barely done so; perhaps I was deficient of information from him.
My headache is that the acclaimed renowned public commentator and loud analyst has most glaringly lost his voice since he resumed office; at least he isn't as loud as he used to. What could have been the cause? Was he assigned a portfolio which burdens him so excruciatingly that speechlessness must be the most convenient conduct. Or is he busied with settling recession deficits the education sector is hard done by?
Anyway, please, those closer to him should tell him to say something about the 2017 budget allocation to education sector.

Adamu Adamu please, talk.

When last did you hear from him? Have you even heard from him at all since the assumption of office of this administration. Well, I have barely done so; perhaps I was deficient of information from him.
My headache is that the acclaimed renowned public commentator and loud analyst has most glaringly lost his voice since he resumed office; at least he isn't as loud as he used to. What could have been the cause? Was he assigned a portfolio which burdens him so excruciatingly that speechlessness must be the most convenient conduct. Or is he busied with settling recession deficits the education sector is hard done by?
Anyway, please, those closer to him should tell him to say something about the 2017 budget allocation to education sector.

From Eduland on Facebook.

Parents beware!
The economic recession Nigeria faces has caused just so much harm. The more consequential is the non-affordability of quality education which in turn, has forced many to seek for alternative academic platforms for their "vulnerable young brains." Tutorial centres are now the safe haven for parents set on their heels by the biting economy. They are redefined, remodelled and twisted so that you may sometimes mistake them for schools.
Make no mistake about it, tutorial centres are essential and have really helped improve learning at the secondary level. I, myself, am a product of the platform. In fact, it does not suggest in anyway an exaggeration if I say my six (6) years in secondary school can never match my (4) months in a tutorial centre. The quality and system in the centre were distinct and of unimaginable quality. Learning was affordable and alluring. I enjoyed every bit of my time there.
Nevertheless, the twist is obvious. The influx of many has debased the system. Abuse of the system is overwhelming and many are victims. Tutorial centres aren't springing up anymore as viable forces to reckon with and to set a pace of academic excellence for those schools maintaining a monopoly at the secondary level of education. Worsened is the case as the joblessness of young graduates has pushed many into the fast but paltry paying business, most of whom never liked teaching and don't possess the skills. For them, it is just a succour. Aside that, the misuse or non outright use of curriculum or timetable is a potential bane on learning.
The need for parents to be clear is imperative. Finding out the best and right centre to register your children should be seriously considered. Remember, the foundation of the child bears his future.
PLEASE, SHARE TO ENLIGHTEN OTHERS.

From Eduland on Facebook.

Parents beware!
The economic recession Nigeria faces has caused just so much harm. The more consequential is the non-affordability of quality education which in turn, has forced many to seek for alternative academic platforms for their "vulnerable young brains." Tutorial centres are now the safe haven for parents set on their heels by the biting economy. They are redefined, remodelled and twisted so that you may sometimes mistake them for schools.
Make no mistake about it, tutorial centres are essential and have really helped improve learning at the secondary level. I, myself, am a product of the platform. In fact, it does not suggest in anyway an exaggeration if I say my six (6) years in secondary school can never match my (4) months in a tutorial centre. The quality and system in the centre were distinct and of unimaginable quality. Learning was affordable and alluring. I enjoyed every bit of my time there.
Nevertheless, the twist is obvious. The influx of many has debased the system. Abuse of the system is overwhelming and many are victims. Tutorial centres aren't springing up anymore as viable forces to reckon with and to set a pace of academic excellence for those schools maintaining a monopoly at the secondary level of education. Worsened is the case as the joblessness of young graduates has pushed many into the fast but paltry paying business, most of whom never liked teaching and don't possess the skills. For them, it is just a succour. Aside that, the misuse or non outright use of curriculum or timetable is a potential bane on learning.
The need for parents to be clear is imperative. Finding out the best and right centre to register your children should be seriously considered. Remember, the foundation of the child bears his future.
PLEASE, SHARE TO ENLIGHTEN OTHERS.

@wizzy pls, reconstruct ur sentence "u don't add 'ing' to stative verbs...to the post however, u should think our delegates are human processing units...everything is naturally stored...that's why Nigerians are naturally ahead of others.

Hi Nairalanders, am David, a young graduate from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, relatively experienced in Customer Relationship Management, Project Management and Marketing Strategy. My excellent communication and competitive skills with good qualification (2.1) profile me highly relevant for operational effectiveness, the aforementioned positions and other creative positions.
I was granted two different job opportunities but the Police Recruitment Screening denied me the opportunities. Unfortunately, I was not called up for the Zonal Aptitude test. Now am left at the mercy of corporate establishments.
Please, I need your assistance on job alerts and information badly. Help me out cos am almost frustrated doing nothing for over 4 months now.

Hi Nairalanders, am David, a young graduate from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, relatively experienced in Customer Relationship Management, Project Management and Marketing Strategy. My excellent communication and competitive skills with good qualification (2.1) profile me highly relevant for operational effectiveness, the aforementioned positions and other creative positions.
I was granted two different job opportunities but the Police Recruitment Screening denied me the opportunities. Unfortunately, I was not called up for the Zonal Aptitude test. Now am left at the mercy of corporate establishments.
Please, I need your assistance on job alerts and information badly. Help me out cos am almost frustrated doing nothing for over 4 months now.