What began as a Valentine’s Day visit to a Lagos remand home has grown into Let It Shine Academy (LISA), a free boarding secondary school for underserved children. In this interview with Guardian Woman, Founder and Chief Executive Officer of LISA, Damilola Feyide, speaks about the encounter that changed her life, the cost of running the school and why she rejects the label of charity.

LISA has been described as Nigeria’s first completely free boarding secondary school. How important is that description to you?
Honestly, I was not looking at who was first, second or last. Other people began describing us that way based on the information available to them. I do not know every school that exists in Nigeria, so I do not like placing too much emphasis on it.
What matters to me is that this kind of school exists and that more of it should exist because many children need it. LISA began in 2020, became a secondary school in 2021 and officially resumed as a free boarding school in September 2025.

What does completely free mean for a student at LISA?
The students do not pay school fees. They do not pay for uniforms, textbooks, exercise books, bunk beds, desks, food, excursions or internship programmes. We feed them three times a day because it is a boarding school.

They receive a list of personal items such as buckets, clothes and toiletries to bring. However, some children come from backgrounds where they cannot provide everything. We keep soap, tissue and other essentials in storage so that no child goes without what they need.

It is free for the children, but it is not free for the school. Our responsibility is to find the money and resources that allow them to receive those things at no cost because, for many of them, there is no other option.

You have said that you do not see LISA as charity. Why does that distinction matter?
I do not like the word charity because I do not think it always feels humane. I see this as an assignment. It would have been easier to sponsor children in another school, but what we are doing is holistic.

We are not only teaching mathematics and English. I know the students by name. We know their families, the losses they have experienced and the things they are dealing with. The teachers also build personal relationships with them. LISA is more than a school. It is home for all of us.

Take us back to the visit that planted the seed for LISA
I had recently moved back to Nigeria and missed an outreach organised by my church. One day, my driver showed me the Children’s Remand Home in Idi-Araba because he knew how disappointed I had been. I went inside, met the manager and asked if I could return with friends on Valentine’s Day.

While preparing for the visit, I felt strongly that we should take art materials. We arrived with crayons, paint, cardboard and watercolours. There were about 40 children, but only four or five appeared to have seen some of those materials before. They were not babies. Some were eight, nine, 10, 11, 12 and 13 years old.

When we asked what they wanted to become, we heard doctor, fashion designer and other dreams. I kept wondering how children who had barely been exposed to the world would turn those dreams into reality.

I promised to return the next weekend. But simply dropping off more materials did not feel like enough, so I asked a friend who owned an art studio for an instructor. She gave me one without charging me. That was how the weekly programme began.

For me, it was seeing something you cannot unsee. It was almost like I woke up, my eyes were open, and I could not go back to sleep.

How did a Saturday art programme become a secondary school?
We expanded beyond art. We taught hairdressing, crochet, beadmaking, coding, carpentry, painting and music. The programme reached children in different centres and communities, including Yaba and Makoko. At one point, we were working with hundreds of children every week.

My background is in finance, so I took an online course in children’s rights, protection and safeguarding. A module on children in contact with the law showed me how juvenile centres in other countries combine rehabilitation with education and reintegration.

That made me ask what happened to young people in Nigeria’s correctional system. At the Correctional Centre for Boys in Oregun, I found teenagers and young adults in primary classes because many had not attended school before entering the facility. Those who had finished primary school had little to do because secondary school teachers were unavailable.

I asked for permission to bring in a lesson teacher for 12 boys. We began with English, mathematics, integrated science, introductory technology and social studies on Saturdays. More boys became interested, and the number grew to almost 40. Eventually, the centre allowed us to teach on Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. That was the beginning of the school structure.

What have the students from correctional centres taught you?
They have taught me that many children society calls dangerous or difficult are carrying stories people have never taken time to hear. Some ran away from violence at home. Some were abandoned. Some moved from police station to police station. Many had stopped trusting adults because the adults in their lives had failed them.

It was not easy at the beginning. They presented themselves as tough boys. But they needed love, patience, consistency and someone they could trust.

One of the boys I met at the correctional centre is now LISA’s head boy. He recorded the best result in his cohort when he sat for the Basic Education Certificate Examination. Several others are prefects. One young person continued schooling despite being much older than his classmates. That takes courage.

Nearly all the students we brought in from correctional centres remain with us. I am proud that they are taking their lives back into their own hands.

Beyond personal stories, what results show that LISA’s model is working?
The first two cohorts that sat for the Basic Education Certificate Examination recorded no resits or failures. We were awaiting the latest results at the time of this interview.

Our students have also competed outside the school. They reached the semi-finals of an Africa-wide spelling competition involving about 100 schools, while one student placed second in a science project competition hosted by Wema Bank.

We recently placed about 40 senior students in one-week internships across banks, hospitals, construction firms, real estate companies and fashion houses. Many students in expensive schools do not receive that kind of exposure. Now, our students can see what a career looks like beyond its name.

Quality is important to us. Our pass mark is 60 per cent. I tell the students that this is not a place to joke. Free education should never mean poor education.

What does it cost to keep hundreds of students in school and in the hostel?
It is difficult to reduce the cost to one figure because everything is connected. Before the expected increase in enrolment, we were spending almost N10 million a month on food while feeding about 300 students and resident staff members.

That figure was despite receiving bread three times a week from a relative’s bakery, meat every two weeks from a partner farm and garri every month from a restaurant. We still bought almost 20 bags of rice monthly, alongside beans, vegetables, pepper, tomatoes, onions and other supplies.

Food is only one part. There are staff salaries, healthcare, water, solar power, security and repairs. Children break beds, toilets leak and illnesses happen. During a chickenpox outbreak, about 60 students needed care. Running a boarding school means accepting responsibility for the whole child.
”
Did you use your salary and personal savings to keep LISA running?
Yes. In the beginning, the creative academy and the work at the correctional centre were funded entirely by me. When LISA became a secondary school, there were periods when donations did not cover what we needed, so I used money from my job.

Support has grown, and I do not have to carry as much of the cost alone now. But I still take responsibility for specific students and have a personal pledge to cover two staff salaries. Some months remain difficult, but people and organisations have continued to help us.

What has building LISA cost you personally?
It has cost me a lot. I try not to focus on the cost because I might start crying. I believe there is no passion without sacrifice, and I count that cost every day.

I barely have time for myself. Sometimes children stay in my house, so even my home does not feel like mine alone. It has affected friendships and relationships because I am not always available. It is also mentally and emotionally demanding to carry parental responsibility for so many children.

But LISA has also given something back to me. I am more confident, stronger and more passionate because of the roles I have had to step into. As much as it has taken, it has also shown me how big my heart can be. I would not trade these children for anything.

Your first set will soon leave secondary school. What comes next for them?
Our first set will enter SS3 when we resume, so this is the first time we are preparing students for life after secondary school.
LISA’s formal mandate is secondary education, but I see these students as my children. I am exploring scholarships, partnerships and individual sponsors to help as many of them as possible move into university or other suitable paths.

Where do you hope LISA will be in the next 10 years?
I want to build on what we have started. We currently operate from a leased property, so I hope we will own a larger school where space will not limit what we can offer.

I want to reach more students from different parts of Nigeria and, if possible, establish more LISA schools in other states. Most of all, I want to see where these children are in five or 10 years. I want to know the universities they attended, the work they are doing and the lives they have built.

That is what excites me. The school is not the end of their story. It is where they begin to see that another future is possible.

Could this model help reduce Nigeria’s number of out-of-school children?
Yes, replication would reduce the number. LISA is already doing its part because hundreds of children who might have been out of school are now learning.

No organisation can do it alone. It requires partnerships, funding, people and long-term resources. I also support public schools with digital tablets because replication does not always have to begin with building another full boarding school.

The important thing is to give children access to quality education and the support that allows them to remain in school. That is how change becomes sustainable.