The recent visit of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to Benue State has rekindled national debate, not only about political symbolism and governance, but more urgently about the troubling intersection of education, insecurity, and misplaced priorities in a region grappling with profound challenges. As visuals of schoolchildren standing under heavy rainfall to welcome the president circulated widely, concerns emerged over the growing disregard for the dignity, safety, and educational rights of Nigerian students in the face of ceremonial politics.
Ahead of the presidential visit, the Benue State government declared a public holiday for students, suspending academic activities for the day. However, despite this official pause, students were mobilized, some reportedly from poorly resourced public schools, to line the streets, wave flags, and participate in the president’s welcome procession. The decision not only disrupted their already fragile academic calendar but also subjected them to physical discomfort and health risks under adverse weather conditions. For many observers, the sight of children soaked in the rain to perform choreographed chants was not a display of patriotism, but a glaring indictment of the disconnect between the state’s political elite and the educational and humanitarian realities on the ground.
These events unfolded in a state that continues to face one of the most persistent intercommunal crises in Nigeria today. In several local government areas, communities have been caught in cycles of violence between farmers and herders, leading to widespread displacement, the destruction of schools, and the interruption of education for thousands of children. Many families have been forced to live in Internally Displaced Persons camps, where access to basic learning materials, qualified teachers, and structured academic programs remains a luxury. In places like Guma, Logo, and Agatu, schools have either been shut down or repurposed to house victims of conflict, further straining the already weak educational infrastructure in the state.
Beyond communal clashes, Benue is also contending with broader security threats including banditry, armed robbery, and kidnappings, particularly in rural areas. These conditions have contributed to teacher shortages, increased student absenteeism, and widespread fear among parents and guardians who are reluctant to send their children to schools located in volatile zones. The state of insecurity has not only limited access to education but has also demoralized many educators who operate in high-risk environments with little support or incentive from the government.
Given these realities, the decision to remove students from their classrooms, however modest those classrooms may be, and deploy them for political optics has been interpreted by critics as insensitive and counterproductive. The symbolism of schoolchildren used to beautify a political event, while their peers are unable to attend school due to displacement or violence, illustrates a deep crisis of leadership and priorities. It raises fundamental questions about what the state values more: education and child welfare or the optics of political loyalty and public showmanship.
Despite the federal government’s stated commitment to education reform, evidenced in recent national policies on student loans, digital literacy, and artificial intelligence integration, such grassroots-level actions in states like Benue cast doubt on the seriousness of implementation. There appears to be a disconnect between the federal aspirations and the local actions that define how education is experienced on the ground by students, teachers, and families. The over-politicisation of school calendars, the ritualistic use of children in public ceremonies, and the neglect of their safety and learning opportunities suggest a country still struggling to treat its students as citizens with rights, rather than instruments of state propaganda.
Furthermore, the psychological and emotional toll of insecurity and public exploitation on school-aged children in Benue cannot be overstated. In a state where many children have witnessed violence, lost family members, or been forced to relocate due to conflict, their time and energy should be devoted to healing, learning, and rebuilding, not to standing in the rain to greet political leaders. Every hour outside the classroom is an hour lost in what is already a disadvantaged educational journey for many.
This episode should serve as a wake-up call to policymakers, education administrators, and community leaders across Nigeria. The future of the country lies not in elaborate welcome receptions or the praise of transient power but in the daily investments made in classrooms, teacher training, school safety, and the emotional well-being of students. The treatment of Benue’s children during the president’s visit, juxtaposed with the persistent insecurity, displacement, and educational breakdown across the state, is a sobering reminder of the work yet to be done.
Benue has the potential to emerge as a center of resilience and educational reform if the right investments are made and if political leaders shift focus from public performance to sustainable development. The children of the state and indeed of Nigeria deserve more than being symbols of loyalty. They deserve the right to learn in peace, to live in safety, and to grow in dignity. True leadership will be judged not by how loudly students are made to chant on rainy roadsides but by how well they are protected, educated, and empowered to become responsible citizens of the future.
