When the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) declared yet another warning strike on October 13, I felt an all-too-familiar ache. It’s the ache of disrupted dreams, halted progress and wasted time. It is one shared by millions of parents, students and even university workers who have lived through the endless cycle of disruption that defines Nigeria’s public university system. For those of us whose lives are intertwined with education and who have endured the endless loop of strikes, halted semesters and broken promises, we know too well how each disruption bruises not just the classroom, but the very soul of the nation.

This latest strike, however, feels particularly disheartening because it comes at a time when genuine progress has been made under the leadership of the Minister of Education, Dr Tunji Alausa. I have followed his approach closely, and in one of my recent essays, I had commended his inauguration of the expanded Mahmud Yayale Ahmed Negotiation Committee, describing it as “a proactive path capable of ending decades of academic disruption.” It was a hopeful moment—a sign that perhaps the long and weary dialogue between ASUU and the Federal Government was turning a new corner. But then came the strike.

On Channels Television, Dr Alausa calmly explained that the Federal Government had “addressed all demands of ASUU.” He spoke with evidence, not rhetoric. He listed the N50 billion already released for Earned Academic Allowances, the N150 billion captured in the 2025 budget for Needs Assessment, and the clearance of postgraduate supervision allowances, now handled directly by universities. He explained that promotion arrears and wage adjustments were already integrated into the 2026 fiscal plan. In other words, tangible progress was being made. And yet, ASUU chose to proceed with a warning strike.

As I listened, I could not help but recall the words of John Dewey, the American philosopher often regarded as the father of progressive education, who said, “Education is not preparation for life, education is life itself.” If that is true, then every time we shut down our universities, we are not merely halting academic activities, we are interrupting life itself. Each closure drains vitality from a system already struggling to find relevance in a fast-changing world.

What strikes me most about Dr Alausa’s handling of this crisis is his composure. Rather than engage in public confrontation, he has chosen communication, transparency, and accountability. He has consistently shared progress updates with Nigerians, ensuring that the process of negotiation remains open and traceable. His tone has been that of a man seeking solutions, not victory.

Under his watch, education reform has become both visible and measurable. Unlike past administrations that promised much and delivered little, Alausa’s policies and reforms are anchored in structure and sustainability. The most revolutionary of these reforms is the new national curriculum, unveiled earlier this year, which has been hailed by stakeholders as a bold and long-overdue reset of Nigeria’s basic and secondary education system.

The reform sings a new tune for Nigerian education: light on load, rich in skill, and alive with smart learning.

Nigerian students, for decades, have groaned under the weight of bloated curricula—filled with outdated content that neither prepared them for the realities of today’s world nor encouraged creative thinking. Alausa’s reform changes that narrative. It streamlines subjects to reduce cognitive overload, places strong emphasis on critical thinking, communication, and digital literacy, and introduces practical, skill-based learning across all levels of education.

The policy received widespread commendation from teachers, parents, and education experts who describe it as the reform Nigeria has waited decades for. It shifts education from memorisation to mastery, from theoretical overload to functional intelligence. As Alausa himself put it during the unveiling ceremony, “We must prepare Nigerian children for the world they will live in, not the one we inherited.”

The new curriculum also integrates AI literacy, environmental sustainability, entrepreneurship, and civic ethics, preparing students to thrive in a global knowledge economy while remaining grounded in national values. It is a decisive step toward transforming the classroom from a space of instruction to a hub of innovation.

Closely following this curricular overhaul is the transition to Computer-Based Testing (CBT) or all major examinations, including NECO and WAEC, by 2026. This reform is about restoring integrity to Nigeria’s examination system, long plagued by malpractice and inefficiency. As someone who teaches and mentors young learners, I have seen firsthand how CBT enhances fairness, transparency, and speed in evaluation—a vital ingredient for educational trust.

Another key initiative is the STEMM-Up Venture Grant, designed to provide up to N50 million for student-led innovations in science, technology, engineering, mathematics, and medicine. For years, our brightest minds have been left without institutional support to pursue transformative ideas. Through the provision of funds, the ministry has created a bridge between the classroom and the marketplace of innovation.

The third reform that stands out to me is the Diaspora BRIDGE Platform, a digital network connecting Nigerian academics abroad with local universities to strengthen research, mentorship, and faculty development. This is a masterstroke in reversing brain drain and reintegrating global expertise into our higher education ecosystem. As Dr Dakuku Peterside observed, the initiative represents “a deliberate and commendable effort to align global expertise with national priorities.”

Equally important is the Inclusive Education Agenda, which seeks to ensure that children with disabilities, internally displaced learners, and those affected by insecurity are not left behind. It reframes education as a right rather than a privilege—a moral and constitutional responsibility.

Alausa has also initiated the revamp of agricultural education, forming a technical committee to redesign the curriculum so that agriculture graduates can move beyond theory into practice, contributing meaningfully to food production and agribusiness. The logic is simple yet profound: education must serve national development, not just personal ambition.

To promote technical and vocational training, the ministry has developed a TVET Data Dashboard, which has already recorded over 1.3 million registrations—a clear indicator of revived public interest in skill-based learning. And in addressing funding gaps, Alausa drew attention to over N250 billion in UBEC funds lying unused at state levels, urging governors to prioritise education over politics.

Taken together, these reforms reflect a holistic vision of educational transformation—one that combines technology, inclusivity, accountability, and innovation.

In fairness, no reformer operates in a vacuum. Alausa inherited a system bruised by decades of neglect and distrust. The 2009 ASUU-FGN Agreement remains a recurring ghost, haunting every administration since. But what sets him apart is his willingness to confront this inheritance with honesty and discipline. I see in him a rare quality, empathy backed by evidence. When he says, “Let me assure parents that we are doing everything humanly possible to keep your children in school,” I sense sincerity rooted in understanding and not the usual political performance by many of our political leaders. That assurance carries weight because it is grounded in visible action.

It was Aldous Huxley, an English novelist and philosopher who once observed that, “Experience is not what happens to a man; it is what a man does with what happens to him.” The line, from his 1932 collection Texts and Pretexts, captures a timeless truth about leadership, growth, and responsibility. Experience in itself changes nothing; it is the response to experience, the ability to extract meaning and act with wisdom that defines maturity.

In many ways, Tunji Alausa embodies that lesson in his handling of Nigeria’s long and often exhausting educational crisis. Rather than surrender to the familiar script of blame and denial, he has chosen to do something meaningful with what he inherited: decades of institutional neglect, distrust, and broken agreements. Through his quiet diligence and structured reforms, he is turning what was once a story of dysfunction into a blueprint for renewal. That kind of leadership matters

For too long, Nigeria’s education sector has operated in cycles of confrontation between government and unions, between reformers and resistors. But Alausa’s approach suggests a different philosophy. It is that real progress begins with steady, evidence-based action. He has anchored his leadership on transparency and follow-through, proving that accountability is not weakness but strength.

Yet if experience can teach reformers how to rebuild, it must also teach unions how to reflect. ASUU must pause to examine its own journey. Its historical mission which is to defend academic integrity and protect the welfare of scholars remains both noble and essential. But the strength of that mission lies not merely in persistence but in perspective. When activism becomes predictable and strikes become reflex rather than reflection, moral authority begins to erode.

The union’s experiences—years of struggle, negotiations, and hard-won concessions—should now inspire strategic engagement, not perpetual disruption. There is wisdom in evolving methods to suit new realities. As the world changes, so must the tactics of those who claim to serve it. The purpose of struggle is to make way for new victories.

For ASUU, this is a moment to listen as much as it speaks, to collaborate as much as it demands, and to align its cause with the future it envisions. Strikes have their place, but when they become habitual, they risk alienating the very society whose sympathy they once commanded.

Popoola is an educator and journalist. He can be reached via: [email protected]