How Poverty and Policy Failings Fuel Osun’s Out-of-School Epidemic

In the shade of the hot afternoon sun at the gate of Obafemi Awolowo University, a handful of teenagers — ages 11 to 17 — weave through the traffic with their hands out. They are not students; they are beggars. Among them are Kudus Ayomide (15), Ayomide Olabosun (16), Ezekiel Fajemila (14), Olabosun Daniel (15) and Toheeb Akinpelu (17). Instead of being in class, they say they beg because their families cannot afford to send them to school.

Kudus explains it plainly: his parents are elderly subsistence farmers, worn out and barely able to feed the family. “Because I want to make money,” he said, “I am on the street instead of in class.” His dream once was to become a pilot. He hopes he might return to school if given the chance. Ayomide echoes a similar story; he stopped attending school in Primary Six when his parents could no longer afford the fees. “I will be glad if I have the opportunity; I wish to become a lawyer,” he says.

These are not isolated cases. In Osun State, the problem of out-of-school children has reached alarming levels. According to a survey, about 14.88 per cent of male children and 11.5 per cent of female children in the state are out of school, averaging around 13 per cent. A local NGO estimates up to 150,000 children in the state are not in any form of schooling.

Why is this happening? Poverty tops the list. Families struggle just to survive, so fees, uniforms and transport become luxuries. Seasonal farming, child labour, and cultural attitudes also play a role. One teacher noted that many girls are pulled out to help on the farm during the rainy season rather than attend classes. At the same time, infrastructure and school access have become challenges—mega-schools built far away forced children to travel, pushing many out.

The state government has recognised the crisis and begun intervention, including the recruitment of teachers, restoring schools, reintroducing school-feeding programmes, and re-enrolment drives. Over 11,000 dropouts reportedly returned to school in 2024. However, for those like Kudus and his friends, each day on the street serves as a reminder that there is much more work to be done. Unless poverty, policy failures, and cultural barriers are tackled together, the number of empty chairs in classrooms will continue to grow.

The young boys at the gate say they want schooling and a better life. The question is: will the system meet them halfway?