TVET and the Alausa Blueprint in Education -By Oluwafemi Popoola

For far too long, our education system has danced around the realities of our labour market. We have consistently churned out graduates with degrees but no direction, certificates without competence, and classrooms full of theory but empty of tools. As a teacher who has spent close to a decade navigating overcrowded classrooms, outdated syllabi, and students who could quote Shakespeare but couldn’t change a flat tyre, I say this not with bitterness—but with a sense of urgency.

Our schools have become degree factories—mass-producing certificates that do little more than decorate wardrobes or, worse, float around on LinkedIn profiles like medals from imaginary wars. Our system feeds students chalk and asks them to build castles. We’ve done a great job of training exam passers, but not job creators. The results are stark: a growing population of young Nigerians equipped with knowledge, but disarmed of skill.

I’ve watched hundreds of students walk out of tertiary institution gates into the abyss of unemployment. Brilliant minds, wasted potential. I’ve seen it all—the glazed-over eyes during theory-heavy lectures, the spark that dims after graduation, the bright, curious minds dulled by a system that offers no creative outlets, no practical labs, and no meaningful exposure to real-world tools. The casualties of this failed model are too many to count.

As someone who has spent years both in the classroom and in policy analysis, I recently turned my full attention to the Technical and Vocational Education and Training (TVET) initiative, launched by the Federal Ministry of Education under Dr. Tunji Alausa. For once, it feels like someone in Abuja stepped out of the echo chambers, walked into an actual school, and asked both teachers and unemployed youths a simple question: What do you really need to succeed?

This initiative doesn’t just tick policy boxes—it speaks the language of impact. I reviewed the policy documents and watched the official launch live. What I saw was a presentation that was clear, grounded, and refreshingly devoid of the typical bureaucratic fluff. This wasn’t just another press conference—it was a manifesto for practical change.

Dr. Alausa emphasized a critical truth: for too long, our education system has been disconnected from our economy. That disconnect has left millions stranded. But now, TVET offers a real bridge between classrooms and construction sites, between exam halls and enterprise hubs, between unemployment lines and real-world livelihoods.

From my professional standpoint, TVET is not just a good idea—it is a masterstroke. It marks a long-overdue pivot away from theory-heavy education to a more dynamic, competency-based system. A system where skills matter more than grades, where innovation thrives in the hands, not just in the head.

The numbers are ambitious: five million young Nigerians trained in five years. But more than the target, it’s the thinking behind the program that impresses me. TVET aims to create not just employees, but employers. Young people won’t just get skills—they’ll get tools, mentorship, and in many cases, starter packs to launch their own businesses.

This is education that steps off the chalkboard and walks into workshops, farms, salons, garages, studios, and code labs. It’s education that touches lives—and wallets.

TVET is also structurally sound. The first phase includes all Federal Technical Colleges and one technical college per state—over 400 accredited centres chosen based on infrastructure, qualified faculty, and compliance with the National Skills Qualification Framework (NSQF). This isn’t some political jamboree—it’s carefully engineered.

And accountability? It’s baked into the system. Beneficiaries will be verified through their National Identification Number (NIN). Funds and starter packs will only be disbursed based on verified attendance, performance, and certification. There’s even a public-facing dashboard to track every naira—no ghost names, no padded lists. That’s how you build trust.

Another powerful feature: industry integration. The private sector isn’t just a spectator—it’s a stakeholder. Through partnerships with the Bank of Industry, Private Sector Skills Councils, and relevant trade bodies, employers are co-designing curricula, mentoring trainees, and even co-financing post-training business setups. This synergy gives the initiative real-world credibility and economic weight.

Inclusivity hasn’t been left behind either. Women, rural youth, and people with disabilities are deliberately prioritized. Disaggregated data, outreach through civil society, and equitable distribution of opportunities ensure that no one is left behind—especially those who need it most.

I’ve seen the most incredible potential in the most unexpected places—a deaf student who built a working radio; a village boy who coded his first app using a borrowed phone. TVET is the bridge they’ve been waiting for.

Still, one cannot ignore the Nigerian context. Our past is littered with brilliant blueprints that collapsed at the altar of poor implementation. Corruption, bureaucracy, lack of continuity—all have buried promising initiatives.

That’s why, while I’m hopeful, I remain cautiously optimistic. The TVET initiative is on paper everything we’ve asked for—but execution is everything.

If anyone can change the narrative, it’s Dr. Tunji Alausa. In his short time as Minister, he has shown clarity, energy, and a rare ability to listen. If he can guard this initiative from the typical Nigerian pitfalls and stay true to its transparency tools, TVET could become the defining legacy of his administration—and perhaps the spark that reignites Nigeria’s struggling education sector.

The opportunity is real. The structure is solid. The strategy is sound. All that remains is execution—with integrity, urgency, and unwavering political will.

Oluwafemi Popoola is an educator and journalist. He can be reached via bromeo2013@gmail.com