Caveat: This long treatise is to enable the reader know why we must love and appreciate teachers, as the World Teachers' Day is celebrated today.
While I waited for admission after my secondary school in 1980, I was encouraged to apply to be what then was commonly referred to as 'Prop Teaching'.
I don't know why it was so called, but it gave a life line to many young people then.
Happily I did! I was posted to Gurup a remote village; far flung from Pankshin around Kadung. It did not work; as I had to return for another posting.
I got a new posting to teach at LEA Primary School at Tuwan, Kabwir. This was home to me.
My first salary of ₦135:50k was from teaching. It was a huge amount of money then, and it helped me settle down.
During NYSC in the former Sokoto State, I would have served at the Sultan Bello Secondary School, however, I asked the Principal to reject me.
What I found at the school was decrepit. I was rejected without malice!
When I returned for reposting, I was offered my choice: The Army Secondary School in the then 7th Mechanised Brigade, Sokoto came in handy.
After service, I sought for different platforms to job hunt. For Bank of the North, it would have been just re-engagement, having worked there earlier.
This story is long for reading; but I know that one day, I shall relay it in full detail.
Teaching was a secondary choice, but it soon dawn on me that I could end up being a teacher, going by what was happening around me.
Two institutions came to my rescue as I waited after my first university degree: COCIN and Teachers Service Commission.
The COCIN needed a Public Relations Officer at its headquarters, while the TSC was recruiting new teachers. I applied for both.
While I succeeded in both, I rejected the position and posting. Rather than being offered the PR job at COCIN, I was asked to report to Girls High School, Gindiri, while TSC posted me from its Barkin Ladi zonal office to Government Secondary School, Ganawuri.
Both opportunities were turned down as I relocated to Lagos to find my dream job in Journalism. I walked the streets of Lagos going to Punch, Vanguard and Champion offices.
It was when I couldn't get one that I settled for civil service work at the Federal Training Centre in Calabar; which came through the magnanimity of Da Bagudu Hirse.
The long and short of it is that I almost didn't like it until I found my bearings in journalism after my sojourn to Calabar. It is a long explanation if I were to give you one.
I am aware of how teachers used to be celebrated in the past. They were kings, who must be respected, as their status in the society was not subject of controversy.
The World Teachers Day being a yearly event has its significance, but its relevance has been abused by their employers and the authorities that regulate teaching.
While teachers are meant to be celebrated on a daily basis, their contributions to national development are not often appropriated. Even on the day they are supposed to be celebrated, very little is known to be done in that direction.
The theme of this year's World Teachers' Day 2025 "Recasting Teaching as a collaborative profession", if anything, is very instructive.
It places emphasis on the 'need to shift away from perceiving teaching as an individual activity towards embracing collaboration as an integral part of the profession'.
The above is told as it captures the state of neglect of the Nigerian teacher. It is not meant to entertain anyone as you read it.
As I wrote this, I found a description of the state of neglect of the Nigerian teacher on a platform without the author's name.
I pray someone may read it and have a rethink on what Nigerian teachers deserve. They must not be left to get to heaven before they are appreciated.
I am reproducing it here for emphasis. You will find it an interesting read:
We Made Teachers Beggars… and now we’re Paying the Price.
They once stood tall with chalk in hand—now they bend low with bowls, begging to survive.
We stripped them of dignity.
We mocked their tattered clothes.
We turned a noble profession into a national shame.
At every PTA meeting, we argued about paying them well.
We expected them to teach with passion on an empty stomach.
Now, most of the best minds avoid the classroom.
They choose tech, trade, and even TikTok—but not teaching.
Our children sit before those who never wanted to be there.
Some teachers now double as Okada riders.
Some sell second-hand clothes during and after school hours.
Some can't afford their own children's school fees.
We see them trekking long distances.
We pretend not to notice.
The same teachers who shaped our paths now sleep hungry.
But we still demand miracles in our education system.
Let’s not pretend—we did this.
By neglecting them, we built a generation that laughs at books.
By underpaying them, we raised youths who can’t spell “respect.”
By humiliating them, we killed the future of our nations.
Until we restore the honour of teachers, the classroom will remain a graveyard of dreams.
It's time to rise.
If you're a parent, speak up.
If you're in power, act.
If you're a teacher, don’t lose hope.
Because without teachers, there is no tomorrow.
Indeed, for all of us, it is time to rise to the challenge and give the teacher the honour he deserves.
Wherever the teacher is found, may your labour not go unrecognised, as we celebrate you today.
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