Ebi Kalu Ugbo is a renowned special educator, sign language interpreter, author, and advocate for inclusive education. His journey into special education began after an early teaching experience that shaped his passion for helping learners with diverse needs.

A lecturer and founder of Inclusive SPED Consult, he provides expert guidance and training to promote inclusive learning. He has authored widely used educational resources, including Talking Hands and Understanding Special Needs Education. Fluent in several languages, Ugbo continues to inspire educators and communities through his commitment to transforming special education and advancing inclusion. In this interview, he shares the experiences, insights, and driving vision behind his remarkable journey in championing inclusive education.

What first drew you towards special education and how did that decision reshape your understanding of teaching and learning?
I picked an interest in special education when I was living in Ibadan. I had a neighbour named Emmanuel who was Deaf. He used to teach a young girl with hearing impairment who wasn’t attending school because her family couldn’t afford the fees at the private School for the Deaf nearby. They would sit at the back of our apartment, communicating entirely in sign language.

One day, I stopped by to assist. I had teaching experience, so I thought I could help, but I couldn’t. The communication barrier was real. That moment really humbled me. I decided to learn sign language, and Emmanuel was so excited to teach me. He even introduced me to the Deaf community and to the Federal College of Education (Special), Oyo, the only one of its kind in sub-Saharan Africa.

That whole experience made me see teaching in a new light. It’s not just about giving lessons; it’s about understanding your learners and helping them reach their full potential. And that requires flexibility, creativity, and empathy.

You once aspired to become a banker. Looking back, what personal or social factors led you to find purpose in education instead?
Yes, at one point, I really wanted to be a banker. It seemed like a stable and respectable career, with well-dressed professionals in corporate offices. But after I started teaching, something shifted. I realised I wanted to do something more meaningful with my life.

I saw so many learners with disabilities being ignored or misunderstood. It made me feel that I had a role to play in changing that narrative. So, for me, it stopped being just a job or career—it became a calling. And that’s why I often say, “Being a special educator is more of a calling than a profession.”

Special education often demands both empathy and evidence-based practice. How do you balance emotional understanding with scientific rigour in your work?
I honestly believe the two go hand in hand. You can’t rely only on research and data without understanding the emotions and real-life struggles your learners face. At the same time, empathy alone isn’t enough—you need strategies that actually work.

So, I keep updating my knowledge, staying current with best practices, while also listening carefully to my students and their families. That combination—compassion backed by knowledge—is what helps me support my learners effectively.

Having taught and interpreted within Nigerian institutions, what changes have you observed in how society perceives learners with special needs?
Things have improved over the years. People are becoming more aware that learners with special needs have potential, rights, and dreams like everyone else. They’re not hidden away as much anymore.

But we still have a long road ahead. Many people still carry outdated beliefs or are unsure how to interact with people with disabilities. That’s why continued advocacy, awareness campaigns, and inclusive policies are so important.

Your career spans teaching, interpretation, authorship, and now consultancy. How do these roles complement one another in shaping your professional direction?
Each role adds a different layer. Teaching puts me on the ground, working directly with learners. Interpretation lets me bridge the communication gap, especially with Deaf students. Writing helps me share knowledge with a wider audience. And consultancy allows me to advise schools and policymakers, helping shape education systems at a higher level.

Together, these roles give me a 360-degree view of what needs to happen to improve special education—not just in classrooms, but in communities and at policy level.

Many educators still struggle with limited resources and awareness around inclusion. What practical steps can schools and policymakers take to close this gap?
First, we need serious investment in teacher training—both initial and ongoing. Educators can’t practise inclusion if they don’t know how. Schools also need basic tools: assistive devices, learning materials, and inclusive infrastructure.

Then there’s the policy side—clear, enforceable guidelines that support inclusive practices. And we can’t leave out public engagement. Communities need to understand why inclusion matters. If we tackle it from all angles—training, resources, policy, and awareness—we’ll start to see real change.

Through your books and training programmes, you have influenced how others perceive special needs education. How do you measure the real impact of this work?
I’ll never forget—my three-year-old son learned to sign just by watching one of my sign language videos while I was babysitting him. That was my first real proof that the material was working.

Beyond that, I get feedback from teachers and schools using my books and videos. When they tell me it’s improved their classroom practices, that’s a huge confirmation. I’ve also seen more schools adopting my books, and I get invited to speak or train based on those resources. But for me, the real impact is seeing more learners being included and supported—that’s the real reward.

As someone fluent in multiple languages, including sign language, how do you see language shaping access and equality in education?
Language is everything. It’s how we connect, how we belong. It’s also a huge part of our identity. When learners can understand and express themselves in their own language, whether that’s sign language or their mother tongue, they’re more confident and engaged.

Being able to sign has helped me connect with students who might otherwise feel isolated. And when schools embrace local languages, it shows learners that their culture and identity matter. That kind of inclusion is powerful. My advice: “Schools should start teaching sign language like French.”

You recently established Inclusive SPED Consult. What vision led you to create it, and what kind of change do you hope it will bring to the education sector?
I created Inclusive SPED Consult because I saw a gap—many schools want to practise inclusion but don’t know how. My vision is to provide practical support through training, consulting, and resources that help schools truly become inclusive spaces.

I hope it becomes a trusted hub for inclusive education in Nigeria—a place where schools, teachers, and even government bodies can come for guidance on how to include every learner, no matter their challenges.

Looking ahead from this point in your journey, what goals are you setting for the next phase of your work in inclusive education?
I’m looking to expand my training programmes and reach more teachers across Nigeria, especially in underserved areas. I also want to work more closely with policymakers to make sure inclusion isn’t just a trendy word but something backed by real action and funding.

Mentoring young special educators is also a passion of mine. I want to support the next generation to keep pushing this work forward. Inclusion is a long journey, but with the right people and partnerships, we’ll get there.