From Nigeria to the UK: A father’s journey through two education systems, by Kayode Adebiyi

I am sometimes torn between my experience of growing up in Nigeria—where I raised children who are now adults and have all graduated from university—and my current life abroad, where I am raising my two youngest children. One is currently writing the GCSEs exam, and the other is still in primary school.

My personal experience, from primary to secondary school and raising my now-adult children within a similar educational system in Nigeria, shaped my worldview on how education is structured—because it’s the only system I knew. I believe this is also the case for many people in Nigeria.

On the other hand, raising my two youngest children, who were born and are being brought up in the UK within a completely different educational system, often puts me in a dilemma: which system is better—Nigeria’s or the UK’s?

In Nigeria, my educational experience in both primary and secondary school was quite similar to that of my adult children, with some differences in the curriculum.

You attend classes, write tests, do assignments, and sit for exams. Exams are handwritten, and all students are given a level playing field—subjected to the same time limit to answer a set number of questions. Each student receives a clean foolscap sheet and writes in Longhand to answer the questions, submitting their papers at the same time when time is up.

There are also multiple-choice questions, where you either tick the correct answer from options A to E on the question paper or shade a box on a pre-printed sheet with boxes labeled A to E. Or click a box if its a computer based exams.

Regardless of academic, social, or psychological differences, all students are treated the same—same questions, same duration, same method. That was my experience, both as a student and as a father.

Now, let’s talk about the UK. Last year, my wife noticed that our son, who was preparing for his GCSEs, sometimes failed to complete all the questions in exams—not because he didn’t know the answers, but because he writes slowly.

She said she would speak to his class teacher to request that he be allowed to use a computer to type during exams, as he types faster than he writes. I laughed. I said, “where is that done…that’s cheating!” I questioned how it could be fair that just because a child writes slowly, they should be allowed to type while others still write by hand.

To me, exams must provide a level playing field and the same opportunity for every student. But my wife called it an “African mentality” and explained that things are done differently in the UK.

She went on to redefine for me what is meant by “Equal Educational Opportunity.” She said that for various reasons—social, natural, or psychological—some students may struggle, not due to a lack of intelligence, but due to other limitations. These students must be supported and provided with tools to help them achieve their educational goals.

Honestly, I called it rubbish. I said I would teach my son to write faster. I couldn’t understand why some students should be given a different system for taking exams.

In my mind, no school would agree to my wife’s suggestion. But to my surprise, the school agreed. Since then, my son has written every test—and is currently writing his GCSE exams—using a computer to type his answers, while others continue to write by hand.

In fact, I later discovered that some students are even granted an extra 15 or more minutes beyond the official exam time to allow them to complete their work. That totally threw me upside down…”given extra minutes!” I shouted.

I later learnt these students typically have what is known as a Special Educational Need (SEND), such as dyslexia, ADHD, or a physical or mental health condition that affects their processing speed or stamina during exams. Not that they are not intelligent.

In school or exam board documentation, I saw terms like:

“Candidates entitled to access arrangements”

“Students with approved extra time”

“Students with special examination adjustments”

Believe me, we never stop learning until we enter the grave. As I reflected on my school days, I began to realise that some of my classmates might have achieved great academic success if they had received the right support. It wasn’t that they lacked intelligence—they were just different and needed a different approach to learning.

While I know there are special needs schools for kids in Nigeria, those are typically for children who, when you see them—especially children with autism or other clearly visible conditions—you can immediately tell they require specialised education.

But that is not the case here. These are children who do not have any obvious or severe debilitating issues. They are simply different. They don’t need to be in a special needs school—they just need a bit of tailored support to thrive within the mainstream system.

Some of these things are completely foreign to me because I never experienced them. I now see that even some of my adult children—who are university graduates—might have probably done better or progressed faster if they had been given the necessary support.

But what did I know? I simply did what my father did to me and my siblings—brought out the cane, flogged the poor kids, and accused them of being unserious, playful, and inattentive.

Truly, our public education system needs a complete overhaul to accommodate the diverse needs of students with different levels of learning ability. Our state governments especially need to do more as they are primarily responsible for primary and secondary education. This is the foundation for every child.

No child is a dullard. Some are just different and need a little help to catch up with their peers and reach the same level of educational achievement.

–Adebiyi is a PR Executive based in United Kingdom