We are on the edge of another turning point in Nigerian education.
The Federal Ministry of Education has announced what it calls a “future-ready” curriculum, one that stretches from the first years of primary school all the way to senior secondary and technical colleges. On paper, it looks comprehensive and hopeful. Primary pupils will no longer drown under overloaded timetables, history has been restored to its rightful place, and technical colleges are being asked to rethink their offerings. At the university level, the Core Curriculum and Minimum Academic Standards (CCMAS) have already begun to reshape programmes.
But where the reform speaks loudest and where it will be tested most severely, I believe, is in the secondary school.
For the first time, every child in JSS1 will be required to take at least one trade subject. The choices are not abstract. They are tactile, tangible, relevant, and urgent, like solar installation, garment making, livestock farming, cosmetology, GSM and computer repair, and horticulture. Alongside this, digital technologies are being introduced as a core subject, with promises of coding, robotics, and artificial intelligence. If Nigeria can pull this off, it will mean that a child leaving secondary school is not just literate but also skilled, employable, and digitally literate.
It is a bold vision. But bold visions live or die in the everyday realities of the classroom.
Because what does it mean to announce solar installation as a compulsory subject when many schools cannot guarantee electricity for light bulbs? What does it mean to promise digital literacy in schools where neither teachers nor students have reliable access to computers? What happens to livestock farming as a curriculum subject when a school has no land to set aside for it or no teacher confident enough to supervise it?
The challenge here is not the ambition of the curriculum, which I support wholeheartedly, but the capacity to deliver it. Teachers, workshops, and assessments are the three pillars on which this reform should stand. Without trained instructors who can actually guide students through practical work, the trades will remain theory on the blackboard. Without workshops, equipment, and power, students will copy diagrams instead of wiring panels or stitching clothes. And without examination boards setting clear and practical assessments, schools will quickly learn to prioritise what appears on paper tests, not what requires practice.
These realities are not new in Nigeria. What is new is the promise being made to every child, in every JSS1 classroom, across the country. And here lies the test of our federal system. Wealthier states may find it easier to procure equipment, train teachers, and build partnerships with industries. Poorer states may struggle to move beyond the announcement. Which means that the success of this curriculum, and the fairness of it, will depend on whether the federal ambition is matched with state-level readiness and transparency.
There are encouraging signs, though. UBEC has begun preparing states, NERDC has been revising materials, and exam bodies have promised alignment. But parents and teachers must also hold the system accountable. We should be asking, ‘How many trade teachers have actually been trained?’ ‘How many workshops are ready?’ ‘When will WAEC, NECO, and NABTEB release specimen papers for these new subjects?’ Without answers, implementation risks become performance.
It is important to say, too, that the reform stretches beyond secondary. Primary schools must now teach history again, which will require updated materials and a new emphasis in teacher training. Technical colleges will need to update their programmes and equipment if NABTEB’s revised trades are to be meaningful. And universities, already adjusting to CCMAS, must rethink how they prepare the next generation of teachers. Because if we continue producing graduates who have never been trained to teach digital technologies or vocational subjects, we are only building on sand.
Still, it is the secondary level that will show us whether this reform has teeth. It is here that policy meets adolescence, the years when a student decides whether education is relevant to their life. If a child leaves JSS with the ability to repair a phone, design clothing, or wire a solar panel, the promise of education will suddenly feel more tangible. But if, instead, they leave with only notes on a blackboard about skills they never practised, the reform will collapse into cynicism, with the “future-ready curriculum” tending toward a future-forgotten policy.
Adeola Eze is a writer, educator, researcher, and publisher dedicated to literacy, education, and the transformative power of communication. She is the co-founder of Jordan Hill Creative Writing & Reading Workshop, Jordan Hill Publishing, and Learning Unleashed Magazine.
