How Alausa’s STEMM-Up and CBT Policies Are Rewriting Education -By Oluwafemi Popoola

When Dr. Tunji Alausa was reassigned from Minister of State for Health to head the Ministry of Education in under a year, it sparked more than a few raised eyebrows in political circles. Whispers of uncertainty followed the physician-turned-policy-maker as he crossed portfolios. But those whispers didn’t last long. Armed with a systems-thinking mindset and a reformer’s calm resolve, Alausa has since silenced skeptics, not with noise, but with undeniable results.

Today, the Ministry of Education is undergoing a transformation not led by headlines, but by deep structural reform. And in the quiet, something is echoing—progress. Joining him in this endeavor is Professor Suwaiba Sai’d Ahmed, Minister of State for Education, whose deep academic insight and institutional wisdom are invaluable assets.

If there was ever a sector in need of emergency care, it’s education. What we’re witnessing in the ministry of Education is a full-scale intervention. Somehow, Dr Alausa is redrawing the blueprint of Nigeria’s education system, nerve by nerve, brick by brick.

Take, for instance, the decision to transition NECO and WAEC entirely to Computer-Based Testing (CBT) by 2026. When the policy was announced, it stunned many. It was a gauntlet thrown down at the feet of a system notorious for malpractice. But for Dr. Alausa, this was about restoring dignity to learning.

When exams lose credibility, certificates become decorative. And when merit is no longer a pathway to progress, society collapses into cynicism. The reform of examinations is therefore a necessity for national sanity.

For years, Nigeria’s examination system has been plagued by malpractice syndicates, compromised invigilators, and miracle centers. With CBT, the days of answers scribbled in margins and invigilators turning blind eyes are ending. Dr. Alausa is clear: a credible nation begins with credible classrooms.

Resistance, of course, is inevitable. Those who profit from chaos will not go quietly. But this is the reform that draws a line in the sand. A nation cannot nurture integrity while tolerating corruption in how its children are assessed. Reforming education starts with restoring trust.

Recently, Alausa threw in something audacious—a venture capital grant for students. The Ministry of Education is about to start doing what venture capitalists in Silicon Valley do: fund bold, brainy students to build the future. It’s called the STEMM-Up Grant (officially, the Sciences, Technology, Engineering, Mathematics, and Medical Sciences Student Venture Capital Grant—try saying that three times fast).

Launching this August, it promises up to ₦50 million for each winning student project. Suddenly, that campus roommate who kept trying to build a drone with spoons and old remote controls might just be onto something.

Dr. Alausa himself put it plainly: this is more than a grant; it’s a launchpad for student-led innovation to drive Nigeria’s industrial transformation. From tech to green energy, medicine to mechanized farming, the idea is to give young Nigerians both the capital and the confidence to solve real problems. The target? Full-time undergraduates in STEMM fields, 300 level and above—young minds close enough to graduation to dream, yet close enough to poverty to stay hungry.

Whether it’s children with disabilities, those displaced by insecurity, or girls silenced by cultural bias, her advocacy is ensuring that the margins are being folded into the center. Through policy roundtables, grassroots consultations, and rigorous stakeholder engagement, she’s laying the groundwork for classrooms where every child is seen, supported, and allowed to thrive.

Beyond examinations, Dr Alausa is looking at education through the lens of national productivity, and nowhere is this more urgent than in agricultural education.

Over the years, Nigeria has churned out thousands of graduates from Colleges of Agriculture, yet our food insecurity deepens. Many of these graduates, shockingly, cannot cultivate a single crop. The problem is real. Visit any state-run agriculture college and you’ll likely find rusty tractors, outdated syllabi, and students whose knowledge begins and ends in textbooks. It’s no wonder that these graduates end up behind office desks, chasing government jobs rather than feeding the nation.

In state after state, one hears the same lament: agriculture graduates who cannot plant, harvest, or manage a small plot of land. Some now drive commercial motorcycles. Others peddle phone accessories or work in unrelated ministries. This is the outcome of theory-heavy, practice-light schooling. And it’s a waste Nigeria can no longer afford. The dream of turning agriculture into a national goldmine is dead on arrival when schools produce theorists instead of agropreneurs.

But that tide is changing. The 24-member technical committee inaugurated by the Ministry has one task. It is to redesign the curriculum so students don’t just learn agriculture, they live it. Agronomy must lead to agribusiness. Farming must be both a science and an enterprise. It’s time cassava became capital, and maize a medium for wealth creation.

The hunger for this kind of practical education is evident. Within just ten days of launching the Ministry’s TVET Data Dashboard, 1.3 million Nigerians registered, with over 210,000 expressing interest in livestock farming. These are not just numbers—they are a call to action. A generation is ready to work. They just need the tools, training, and trust.

And in yet another stride that illustrates the Ministry’s reformist zeal, the Federal Government is preparing to unveil a groundbreaking digital platform on July 28 that connects Nigerian academics and professionals in the diaspora with universities and research institutions back home. This initiative, led by Dr. Alausa and to be unveiled by Vice President Kashim Shettima, is a bold leap toward creating a knowledge-based economy.

Known as the Diaspora BRIDGE Platform, the system is a full-scale collaborative engine. Diaspora scholars will be able to highlight their specializations, engage with Nigerian institutions, and build structured partnerships in research, teaching, and innovation. Local universities, in turn, will be able to signal areas of need and tap into global expertise.

The platform is fitted with tools for virtual collaboration, academic matchmaking, and even performance tracking. Integrated with government systems like the Tertiary Education Research Applications System (TERAS), it promises transparency, measurable outcomes, and an unprecedented level of coordination across borders.

In a globalized world, no country can afford to isolate its brightest minds abroad. The Diaspora BRIDGE Platform is thus a return ticket for lost potential, allowing the best of Nigerian talent to come home, virtually or physically, and contribute meaningfully.

But even the best ideas stall when political will collapses at the subnational level. Over ₦250 billion in UBEC funds—meant to repair classrooms, equip teachers, and digitize learning—remains untouched, locked away not by scarcity, but by indifference.

Dr. Aisha Garba of UBEC has sounded the alarm. The money is there. The need is urgent. But state-level inertia is choking progress. Many state governments have failed to meet counterpart funding requirements, allowing these vital resources to rot in limbo.

Meanwhile, pupils sit on broken chairs in darkened classrooms, teachers beg for chalk, and students prepare for 21st-century exams in 19th-century conditions. The irony is bitter. This is a deliberate sabotage of the future.

Education is not a silo. It is the seedbed of every other sector. Health, governance, innovation, security—these all sprout from the same soil. What is happening now at the Ministry is the careful tilling of that ground. But seeds only grow when everyone waters.

Oluwafemi Popoola is a journalist, educator and policy analyst. He can be reached via bromeo2013@gmail.com