By Stephanie Shaakaa
We were promised unity, safety, and the freedom to dream. We were promised schools that would shape Nigeria’s future. Today, those promises lie in tatters, as our children are sent home not for holidays, but for fear.
As a proud alumna of a Unity School, I feel an ache that words can barely hold when I hear that a Unity School has been forced into a compulsory break because of insecurity. It is more than disappointing it is a startling reminder of how far this country has fallen from the ideals we once held.
Children the very future of this nation are sent home not for vacation, not for holidays, but because the system cannot protect them.
To understand the depth of this tragedy, we must remember why Unity Schools were created in the first place. They were not ordinary schools. They were deliberate nation-building projects established after the civil war, designed to heal wounds, bridge divides, and bring Nigerian children together under one roof. The idea was simple but profound. If young people from every tribe could learn, eat, play, compete, disagree, and grow together, then maybe the seeds of unity would take root.
And for many years, they did.
During our time, Unity Schools were sanctuaries. They were micro-Nigerias that actually worked. The worst thing that could disrupt the school calendar was rain ruining inter-house sports or a principal threatening a surprise inspection in the hotel. We walked freely from classroom to dormitory, our only worries being assignments and dining hall food. We slept without fear. We studied without glancing at the window for danger. Life was peaceful, hitch-free, and steady. Safety was not a privilege it was the air we breathed.
Today, that air is polluted with uncertainty.
A Unity School going on forced break due to insecurity is not a small incident it is a national alarm bell. It signals that the very symbol of Nigeria’s unity is shaking. If the places that were intentionally built to bring us together can no longer guarantee safety, then what hope remains for the larger country?
Children who should be learning Physics and Literature are now learning fear. Their innocence is being chipped away by a reality they did not create. Every disruption chips away at their confidence, their curiosity, their dreams. We cannot pretend this is normal. It is not.
And what about the parents? Parents who send their children to school and live in constant anxiety, waiting for a phone call they pray never comes. Parents who once trusted the system but now hold their breath each term. This is not the Nigeria we inherited, and it cannot be the Nigeria we pass on.
Beyond the emotional cost, the academic and psychological damage is immense. School disruptions deepen inequality. They create gaps that entire futures can fall through. A generation raised on fear will not compete with a generation raised on stability. When insecurity enters the school system, it doesn’t just interrupt learning, it erodes national development from the roots.
And this is where leadership must answer for its silence.
Why are schools still soft targets?
Why must children pay for the country’s failures?
Why do we keep responding to crises instead of preventing them?
These are not questions of politics they are questions of basic human responsibility.
But even in this darkness, we must not surrender to hopelessness. Unity Schools can still be restored to their original purpose. They can still be the melting pot of cultures and dreams that shaped so many of us. But it requires intentional leadership, community involvement, and a firm commitment to make children’s lives matter again.
Children who should be learning Physics and Literature are now learning fear. Their innocence is being chipped away by a reality they did not create. Every disruption chips away at their confidence, their curiosity, their dreams. We cannot pretend this is normal. It is not. Every forced break not a vacation, not a holiday, but a pause born of fear steals precious time from their education and robs them of the simple joy of being a child in a safe, nurturing environment.
I still remember the electric energy of interhouse sports,the smell of wet grass in the morning, the sound of the whistle slicing through the cool air, and the roar of students cheering for their houses. Unity Schools didn’t just give names to dormitories and houses for the sake of organization,every name carried history, symbolism, and a lesson. Dormitories and houses were named after great Nigerian figures, rivers, or ideals reminding us who we were and what we stood for.
For example, houses bore names like Zik House, honoring Nnamdi Azikiwe and his vision for a united Nigeria, Okigwe House, reflecting a historical town that played a role in nation-building,River Niger House, symbolizing life, continuity, and the bonds between regions, or Liberty House, reminding every student that freedom and responsibility go hand in hand. During sports, as we raced, cheered, and strategized, we weren’t just competing we were living the history and ideals our houses represented. The games were more than just athletics,they were lessons in unity, perseverance, and pride.
As alumni, we must speak up. We cannot be nostalgic spectators. We are beneficiaries of a better era, and we owe the next generation more than silence. Because if Unity Schools fall, a part of Nigeria’s soul falls with them.
The truth is simple and painful.We enjoyed peace in our time, and the children of today deserve nothing less. They deserve safety, structure, laughter, and the freedom to dream without fear. They deserve a country that values them enough to protect them.
If Unity Schools fall, a part of Nigeria’s soul falls with them. We enjoyed peace in our time. Our children deserve even more. Until that becomes reality, silence is betrayal and we cannot afford to stay silent.
Stephanie Shaakaa can be reached shaakaastephanie@yahoo.com