By Sar Terver
Across Nigeria, parents have long lamented the rising cost of education, not just in tuition fees but also in hidden charges tucked into the school’s Calendar.
Among the most controversial of these are customized, non-transferable learning materials: branded textbooks, exercise books, and uniforms that parents must buy anew each year, even when older siblings could have passed theirs down.
For many households struggling to make ends meet, these practices have become symbols of extortion under the guise of modern learning.
Now, three state governments—Imo, Edo, and Benue—have stepped in, abolishing customized materials and curbing unnecessary ceremonies that deepen the financial strain.
The decisions, though locally driven, are igniting a national debate: should the federal government follow suit and impose a blanket ban across the country?
In Imo State, the reforms were announced with a clear message. Education Commissioner Prof. Bernard Ikegwuoha declared that schools must adopt an approved list of textbooks to be used for at least four years.
This means a single purchase could serve multiple children in a household, reducing expenses and restoring the age-old culture of passing books from sibling to sibling.
“Frequent changes in textbooks impose financial strain on parents and undermine educational stability,” he said, emphasizing that learning outcomes should take precedence over cosmetic changes in school materials.
Edo State went a step further by tying policy to skills development. From the next academic session, JSS3 students will not only sit for their Basic Education Certificate Examination but also graduate with a mandatory entrepreneurship certificate.
This dual-certification system, according to the state Ministry of Education, ensures that learners leave junior secondary school both academically grounded and vocationally empowered.
But buried within the broader reform is the same parent-friendly rule: textbooks must remain in use for four years, with siblings permitted to reuse them.
Benue State’s approach shows these priorities. The government announced an immediate end to customized learning materials and graduation parties at the lower levels, describing them as financially burdensome and educationally unnecessary.
The Permanent Secretary, Mrs. Nambativ Helen Zeramo, noted that the policies were not only about saving money but also about fairness.
“Restrictive customized materials exclude children from poorer households and increase inequality,” Namabtiv said. She stressed that every child deserves equal access to learning resources, regardless of parental income.
For parents, the relief is palpable. “I have three children in school,” said Mary Iorliam, a civil servant in Makurdi. “Every year I was forced to buy new branded books, even when my older son’s books were still in good condition. With this reform, I can finally pass books down and save money for other needs.”
Still, defenders of customized materials argue they promote uniformity, discourage piracy of textbooks, and create a sense of ownership among pupils.
But critics point out that the disadvantages far outweigh these perks. Unlike transferable textbooks, customized versions quickly lose value; they cannot be reused, resold, or donated.
The system locks parents into annual expenses and stifles the natural cycle of educational sharing that has helped families for generations.
The bigger question now is whether these reforms should stop at the state level. With three states already outlawing the practice and the overwhelming joy that follows the reforms from parents and guardians, campaigners believe it is time for the Federal Government to take a decisive stand.
A nationwide ban, they argue, would prevent school owners in other states from continuing exploitative practices unchecked. It would also ensure uniform education standards and reduce regional disparities in parental costs.
Education analysts warn, however, that enforcement remains the real challenge. Nigeria’s private schools, many of them unregulated, often operate with minimal oversight, driven more by profit than pedagogy.
For now, parents in Imo, Edo, and Benue are experiencing some relief, but families elsewhere remain caught in the cycle of forced spending.
As the school calendar rolls on, the debate over customized learning materials is likely to intensify — testing whether Nigeria’s education system serves the interests of children or continues to bow to the unchecked ambitions of private school owners.
What remains clear is that reforms are no longer just about textbooks and ceremonies. They are about equity, accountability, and restoring dignity to parents who simply want to educate their children without being exploited in the process.
