By Victoria Felix
Owoade Mariam scored 278 in the Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination, UTME, – a result many in Nigeria would consider a golden ticket into highly competitive fields like Medicine, Law, or Engineering.
But instead of joining the race for the “big” courses, she made a choice that left many bewildered: she picked Education.
“Why would someone so intelligent waste a score like that on Education?”
“You should be studying Medicine. You deserve better,” the chorus was loud.
The backlash was swift, not from a place of concern but from a deeply rooted societal bias. In Nigeria, where academic brilliance is expected to translate into high-profile careers, choosing Education is often seen as settling for less—or worse, as a sign of failure.
But Mariam was unmoved. Her dream wasn’t about prestige. It was about purpose.
“No, I didn’t deserve ‘better.’ I deserved my dream,” she wrote in a now-viral LinkedIn post. “And my dream was to teach. To build minds. To change lives.”
Her words cut through the noise and brought clarity to a conversation long ignored: why is Education in Nigeria treated like the last resort, instead of the foundation of national development?
From the start of her academic journey, Mariam knew she wanted to be a teacher. But her decision was constantly second-guessed. Even after enrolling in a university to study Education, the doubts followed her.
In her first semester, she took 12 courses—and aced 11 of them with A’s, scoring just one B. The excellence was so evident that the Head of the Physics Department approached her with an offer: switch to Physics and be assured of a future job after M.Sc.
It was tempting, but she said no.
Also Read: JAMB pegs university entry benchmark at 150
“I knew myself. I wasn’t called to just chase titles. I was born to build futures,” she wrote.
For Mariam, teaching isn’t a “backup plan.” It’s the main plan. A mission.
This month, JAMB announced that the 2025 minimum UTME cut-off for Colleges of Education is 100—the lowest possible score a candidate can receive in the exam. Not 150. Not 140. Just 100.
The announcement felt like an insult to every student who intentionally chose the teaching path. And to Mariam, it confirmed the long-standing institutional neglect of one of the most important professions in the country.
“You need over 200 to study Law or Medicine,” she wrote. “But just 100 to teach those who will become lawyers and doctors?”
The irony stings. In a system where quality education is constantly discussed, the very people trained to deliver it are recruited with the barest standards.
Mariam shared a story about NECO officials visiting her school and being surprised that 70% of the teachers were B.Sc. holders. Their reaction was telling—good teachers are not the norm, but the exception.
“But any school that is truly intentional about excellence won’t gamble with teacher quality,” she wrote. “We’re raising thinkers, not just filling periods.”
Her experience, both as a student and a witness to classroom realities, highlights a critical failure in policy. Nigeria’s education system expects quality results but offers little support or standards for those expected to deliver them.
Many teacher training institutions are underfunded. Student-teachers receive little practical experience. And now, with a 100 cut-off mark, the entry pool has been diluted further.
In Nigeria, top students are often discouraged from studying Education. They’re told they’re “too smart” to teach. Those who do end up in the field are often there by default, not by desire.
But Mariam wants to change the narrative
“A country that treats Education like a dustbin for rejected students will never rise,” she warned. “A nation that sets the bar so low for teacher training is signing its own death sentence.”
Her message is a reality check. Poor teacher recruitment standards will not only affect future learning outcomes—they will affect every sector of the nation.
Because teachers are the ones who shape every other profession.
“I scored 278 and chose Education,” Mariam declared. “And I regret nothing.”
Her story is not just about personal conviction—it is a call to action. It exposes the double standards in Nigeria’s education policies and reminds the nation that intelligence should be used to uplift, not escape, the education sector.
Her voice represents thousands of passionate students who dream of teaching but are shamed into choosing something else.
“Stop telling brilliant students that they deserve better than Education,” she urged. “Make Education deserve brilliant students.”
As the debate over the UTME cut-off continues, many educators and education advocates are calling for a total reset of how teachers are trained and recruited. They argue that lowering the bar isn’t inclusive—it’s irresponsible.
Mariam’s story has not only gone viral—it’s become a mirror for a broken system. And in that mirror, many are beginning to see the truth: Nigeria’s future can never be brighter than the quality of its teachers.
If Nigeria must rise, Education must first be lifted.
And that means starting with those bold enough to choose it—not by accident, but by conviction.
Crediblenewsng,com
