Opinion
Farooq Kperogi: The 18-year-old age limit for school certificate
Farooq Kperogi: The 18-year-old age limit for school certificate
The directive by education minister Professor Tahir Mamman to the West African Examinations Council (WAEC) and the National Examinations Council to not register candidates who are below 18 for next year’s school certificate examinations is generating knee-jerk resistance from people who are obviously nescient of the psychology and philosophy behind age benchmarks in education.
In most countries of the world, children don’t start primary school until they are 6, and young adults don’t start university until they are 18. That used to be true in Nigeria, too—until parents chose to skirt the law, upend time-tested tradition, and commit mass child abuse in the name of fast-tracking the education their children.
In fact, contrary to what the Nigerian news media has been reporting, Professor Mamman has not created a new law; he is only implementing the existing law. He hasn’t “banned” under-18 students from taking school certificate exams; he has merely chosen to enforce an extant law, which has been serially violated by overeager parents who want their children to get ahead by any means.
The 1982 education policy, also called the 6:3:3:4 system, requires that children should be at least 5 years old to start pre-primary school and at least 6 years old to start primary school. If a 6-year-old spends 6 years in primary school, 3 years in junior secondary school, and another 3 years in secondary school, they would be 18 by the time they graduate from secondary school.
This is the global standard. In the United States, students apply to enter universities between the ages of 18 and 19 (because if you don’t turn 6 in September of the year you want to start First Grade, you have to wait until next year). In Finland, Canada, the Netherlands, Japan, South Africa, Germany, the United Kingdom, France, Denmark, etc. it is 18.
The age benchmark isn’t arbitrary. It is based on time-honored insights from developmental psychology and educational research, which examined the cognitive, social, and emotional developments of children.
READ ALSO:
- CNG: Give auto firms with capacity maximum support, LSM urges govt
- JUST IN : Police commission promotes eight CPs, 676 other senior officers (See list)
- Boycott debate at your peril, group tells Edo gov candidates, parties
For example, Jean Piaget’s stages of cognitive development tell us that around age 6, children transition from what is called the preoperational stage to the concrete operational stage, at which point they begin to develop logical thinking, which is essential for learning the structured curriculum of primary school education, such as reading, writing, and mathematics.
Research also shows that children develop the social skills needed to interact with peers and teachers in a school environment and the attention span necessary to learn, absorb information, and stay engaged at 6, and that children who start school too early struggle with these skills, which can lead to long-term challenges in academic and social areas.
That was why the late Professor Aliu Babatunde Fafunwa was famous for saying any education of children before the age of 5 is a waste of time and even child abuse. From ages 1 through 5, children should be allowed to be children: sleep, play, laugh, and grow.
Of course, I recognize that because most mothers now work, enrolling children in schools earlier than is ideal is a necessity. But the busy schedule of parents is no excuse to buck science, ignore the requirements of a well-integrated childhood, and contribute to the mass production of maladjusted adults.
Similarly, research in developmental psychology shows that by age 18, most teenagers have reached a level of emotional and social maturity that enables them to live independently, make decisions, and handle the challenges of university life.
Neuroscientific research also shows that the brain continues to develop well into the early twenties, particularly the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for decision-making, impulse control, and planning. By age 18, the brain has typically matured enough to handle the complex cognitive demands of higher education.
Plus, in many countries, including in Nigeria, 18 is the age of legal adulthood, which aligns with the transition to university. This legal framework supports the idea that students are ready to take on the responsibilities associated with higher education, such as managing their own time, finances, and education.
Of course, as with everything, there are always exceptions. Precocious children can and do skip grades and start university earlier than 18 even in the United States and elsewhere. There are exceptionally gifted children who graduate from university as early as 11. But such students undergo rigorous tests to determine that they have intelligence that is far ahead of normal developmental schedules. They are also few and far between.
That’s not the situation in Nigeria. Just like our bad national habit of always wanting to jump the queue—what Americans call cut in line—Nigerian parents have, over the years, developed impatience for the normal development schedules of their children and want them to get ahead against the evidence of science, common sense, and even the law of the land.
READ ALSO:
- Why Labbadia rejected Super Eagles’ coaching job – Source
- Eguavoen drafted to coach Super Eagles for Benin, Rwanda matches after Labbadia’s withdrawal
- We killed local Hamas commander in West Bank – Israeli military
It is not because their children are exceptional. In fact, they are often mediocre. For example, my brother’s son, who is only 14 years old and with average intelligence, registered to take his WAEC exam this year. I told my brother that was inexcusable child abuse.
Nigeria has a bad reputation across the world for sending underage children not just to domestic universities but also to foreign universities. People who work at the International Student and Scholar Services at the university where I am a professor have asked me multiple times why only Nigeria sends underage students here.
The consensus is that such students often lack maturity, have difficulty engaging in adult conversations, and struggle to fit in and get the best of the opportunities they have.
Several Nigerians who teach at other U.S. universities share the same stories. As I pointed out earlier, here in the United States, like in most other countries of the world, students don’t begin their undergraduate education until they are 18, which also happens to be the age of consent. A student who is under 18, by law, can’t attend several extra-curricular activities undergraduates typically take part in.
They need waivers signed by their parents to participate in certain activities, but since their parents are often in Nigeria, they pose logistical nightmares for universities.
For example, in the United States, by law, you can’t sign a lease agreement (to rent an apartment) if you are not at least 18 years old. Many underage Nigerian undergraduates at my school require an adult to co-sign for them. Since their parents are in Nigeria, the burden often falls on Nigerian professors and staff, who are understandably reluctant to co-sign leases of underage strangers who could break their agreements and put us in legal jeopardy.
Dating is also a treacherous legal minefield for the American classmates of underage Nigerian undergraduates in American universities. Having intimate relationship with anyone who is under 18 is statutory rape, even if it is consensual. I am aware of the story of a 17-year-old second-year Nigerian undergraduate girl who had a disagreement with her boyfriend who was from another African country.
Neighbors called the police to intervene. When the police asked for their ID cards, they discovered that the Nigerian girl was underaged. It led to the imprisonment—and later deportation— of the man for statutory rape even when their relationship was consensual. Stories like this are not unique.
Unless someone is exceptionally gifted, which should be proved conclusively with special tests, they should not start university earlier than 18. Fortunately, that is already the law, which is informed by the consensus of research findings in developmental psychology, neuroscience, and social research. Professor Mamman has only signaled his readiness to apply the law. He has my full support.
I read that the National Parent Teacher Association of Nigeria (NAPTAN) said they would sue the federal government for indicating readiness to implement a law that has been in the books for more than 40 years. Good luck with that!
Farooq Kperogi: The 18-year-old age limit for school certificate
Opinion
El Rufai’s Arise News mind game with Ribadu, By Farooq Kperogi
El Rufai’s Arise News mind game with Ribadu, By Farooq Kperogi
El Rufai’s Arise News mind game with Ribadu, By Farooq Kperogi
Opinion
Oshiomhole: Behold the 13th disciple of Christ
Oshiomhole: Behold the 13th disciple of Christ
Opinion
AFCON 2025: Flipping Content Creation From Coverage to Strategy
AFCON 2025: Flipping Content Creation From Coverage to Strategy
By Toluwalope Shodunke
The beautiful and enchanting butterfly called the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) emerged from its chrysalis in Khartoum, Sudan, under the presidency of Abdelaziz Abdallah Salem, an Egyptian, with three countries—Egypt, Sudan, and Ethiopia—participating, and Egypt emerging as the eventual winner.
The reason for this limited participation is not far-fetched. At the time, only nine African countries were independent. The remaining 45 countries that now make up CAF’s 54 member nations were either pushing Queen Elizabeth’s dogsled made unique with the Union Jack, making supplications at the Eiffel Tower, or knocking at the doors of the Palácio de Belém, the Quirinal Palace, and the Royal Palace of Brussels—seeking the mercies of their colonial masters who, without regard for cultures, sub-cultures, or primordial affinities, divided Africa among the colonial gods.
From then until now, CAF has had seven presidents, including Patrice Motsepe, who was elected as the seventh president in 2021. With more countries gaining independence and under various CAF leaderships, AFCON has undergone several reforms—transforming from a “backyard event” involving only three nations into competitions featuring 8, 16, and now 24 teams. It has evolved into a global spectacle consumed by millions worldwide.
Looking back, I can trace my personal connection to AFCON to table soccer, which I played alone on concrete in our balcony at Olafimihan Street—between Mushin and Ilasamaja—adjacent to Alafia Oluwa Primary School, close to Alfa Nda and Akanro Street, all in Lagos State.
Zygmunt Bauman, the Polish-British sociologist who developed the concept of “liquid modernity,” argues that the world is in constant flux rather than static, among other themes in his revelatory works.
For the benefit of Millennials (Generation Y) and Generation Z—who are accustomed to high-tech pads, iPhones, AI technologies, and chat boxes—table soccer is a replica of football played with bottle corks (often from carbonated drinks or beer) as players, cassette hubs as the ball, and “Bic” biro covers for engagement. The game can be played by two people, each controlling eleven players.
I, however, enjoyed playing alone in a secluded area, running my own commentary like the great Ernest Okonkwo, Yinka Craig, and Fabio Lanipekun, who are all late. At the time, I knew next to nothing about the Africa Cup of Nations. Yet, I named my cork players after Nigerian legends such as Segun Odegbami, Godwin Odiye, Aloysius Atuegbu, Tunji Banjo, Muda Lawal, Felix Owolabi, and Adokiye Amiesimaka, among others, as I must have taken to heart their names from commentary and utterances of my uncles resulting from sporadic and wild celebrations of Nigeria winning the Cup of Nations on home soil for the first time.
While my connection to AFCON remained somewhat ephemeral until Libya 1982, my AFCON anecdotes became deeply rooted in Abidjan 1984, where Cameroon defeated Nigeria 3–1. The name Théophile Abéga was etched into my youthful memory.
Even as I write this, I remember the silence that enveloped our compound after the final whistle.
It felt similar to how Ukrainians experienced the Battle of Mariupol against Russia—where resolute resistance eventually succumbed to overwhelming force.
The Indomitable Lions were better and superior in every aspect. The lion not only caged the Eagles, they cooked pepper soup with the Green Eagles.
In Maroc ’88, I again tasted defeat with the Green Eagles (now Super Eagles), coached by the German Manfred Höner. Players like Henry Nwosu, Stephen Keshi, Sunday Eboigbe, Bright Omolara, Rashidi Yekini, Austin Eguavoen, Peter Rufai, Folorunsho Okenla, Ademola Adeshina, Yisa Sofoluwe, and others featured prominently. A beautiful goal by Henry Nwosu—then a diminutive ACB Lagos player—was controversially disallowed.
This sparked outrage among Nigerians, many of whom believed the referee acted under the influence of Issa Hayatou, the Cameroonian who served as CAF president from 1988 to 2017.
This stroll down memory lane illustrates that controversy and allegations of biased officiating have long been part of AFCON’s history.
The 2025 Africa Cup of Nations in Morocco, held from December 21, 2025, to January 18, 2026, will be discussed for a long time by football historians, raconteurs, and aficionados—for both positive and negative reasons.
These include Morocco’s world-class facilities, the ravenous hunger of ball boys and players (superstars included) for the towels of opposing goalkeepers—popularly dubbed TowelGate—allegations of biased officiating, strained relations among Arab African nations (Egypt, Algeria, Tunisia, and Morocco), CAF President Patrice Motsepe’s curt “keep quiet” response to veteran journalist Osasu Obayiuwana regarding the proposed four-year AFCON cycle post-2028, and the “Oga Patapata” incident, where Senegalese players walked off the pitch after a legitimate goal was chalked off and a penalty awarded against them by DR Congo referee Jean-Jacques Ndala.
While these narratives dominated global discourse, another critical issue—less prominent but equally important—emerged within Nigeria’s media and content-creation landscape.
Following Nigeria’s qualification from the group stage, the Super Eagles were scheduled to face Mozambique in the Round of 16. Between January 1 and January 3, Coach Eric Chelle instituted closed-door training sessions, denying journalists and content creators access, with media interaction limited to pre-match press conferences.
According to Chelle, the knockout stage demanded “maximum concentration,” and privacy was necessary to protect players from distractions.
This decision sparked mixed reactions on social media.
Twitter user @QualityQuadry wrote:
“What Eric Chelle is doing to journalists is bad.
Journalists were subjected to a media parley under cold weather in an open field for the first time in Super Eagles history.
Journalists were beaten by rain because Chelle doesn’t want journalists around the camp.
Locking down training sessions for three days is unprofessional.
I wish him well against Mozambique.”
Another user, @PoojaMedia, stated:
“Again, Eric Chelle has closed the Super Eagles’ training today.
That means journalists in Morocco won’t have access to the team for three straight days ahead of the Round of 16.
This is serious and sad for journalists who spent millions to get content around the team.
We move.”
Conversely, @sportsdokitor wrote:
“I’m not Eric Chelle’s biggest supporter, but on this issue, I support him 110%.
There’s a time to speak and a time to train.
Let the boys focus on why they’re in Morocco—they’re not here for your content creation.”
From these three tweets, one can see accessibility being clothed in beautiful garments. Two of the tweets suggest that there is only one way to get to the zenith of Mount Kilimanjaro, when indeed there are many routes—if we think within the box, not outside the box as we’ve not exhausted the content inside the box.
In the past, when the economy was buoyant, media organisations sponsored reporters to cover the World Cup, Olympics, Commonwealth Games, and other international competitions.
Today, with financial pressures mounting, many journalists and content creators seek collaborations and sponsorships from corporations and tech startups to cover sporting events, who in turn get awareness, brand visibility, and other intangibles.
As Gary Vaynerchuk famously said, “Every company is a media company.” Yet most creators covering AFCON 2025 followed the same playbook.
At AFCON 2025, most Nigerian journalists and content creators pitched similar offerings: on-the-ground coverage, press conferences, team updates, behind-the-scenes footage, analysis, cuisine, fan interactions, and Moroccan cultural experiences.
If they were not interviewing Victor Osimhen, they were showcasing the stand-up comedy talents of Samuel Chukwueze and other forms of entertainment.
What was missing was differentiation. No clear Unique Selling Proposition (USP). The result was generic, repetitive content with little strategic distinction. Everyone appeared to be deploying the same “Jab, Jab, Jab, Hook” formula—throwing multiple jabs of access-driven content in the hope that one hook would land.
The lesson is simple: when everyone is jabbing the same way, the hook becomes predictable and loses its power.
As J. P. Clark wrote in the poem “The Casualties”, “We are all casualties,” casualties of sameness—content without differentiation. The audience consumes shallow content, sponsors lose return on investment, and creators return home bearing the “weight of paper” from disappointed benefactors.
On November 23, 1963, a shining light was dimmed in America when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.
As with AFCON today, media organisations sent their best hands to cover the funeral, as the who’s who of the planet—and if possible, the stratosphere—would attend. Unconfirmed reports suggested that over 220 VVIPs were expected.
While every newspaper, radio, and television station covered the spectacle and grandeur of the event, one man, Jimmy Breslin, swam against the tide. He chose instead to interview Clifton Pollard, the foreman of gravediggers at Arlington National Cemetery—the man who dug John F. Kennedy’s grave.
This act of upended thinking differentiated Jimmy Breslin from the odds and sods, and he went on to win the Pulitzer Prize in 1986.
Until journalists and content creators stop following the motley and begin swimming against the tide, access will continue to be treated as king—when in reality, differentiation, aided by strategy, is king.
When every journalist and content creator is using Gary Vaynerchuk’s “Jab, Jab, Jab, Hook” template while covering major sporting events, thinkers among them must learn to replace one jab with a counterpunch—and a bit of head movement—to stay ahead of the herd.
Toluwalope Shodunke can be reached via tolushodunke@yahoo.com
-
Education2 days agoCheck Your Name: UNILORIN Releases Updated NELFUND Refund List for 2024/2025 Students
-
News2 days agoOsogbo Sons and Daughters Mark 5th Anniversary with Awards, Political Undertones
-
metro23 hours agoUS Freezes Assets of Eight Nigerians Over Boko Haram, ISIL, Cybercrime Links
-
metro3 days agoWoman Arrested Over Murder of Nigerian E-Hailing Driver in South Africa
-
metro3 days agoBoko Haram Terrorists Release Video of 176 Abducted Kwara Residents
-
News2 days agoAfenifere Calls for Immediate Take-Off of State Police as Terror Threats Rise in Yorubaland
-
metro24 hours agoTerror in Lagos Traffic: Cutlass Gang Unleashes Mayhem on Mile 12–Ketu Road
-
metro2 days agoUS Military Boosts Support for Nigeria’s Fight Against Insurgency With Ammunition, Troop


