Skills, Degrees, and the Dangerous Shortcut

Recently, our colleague Dr. Hamisu Adamu Dandajeh shared a troubling story of a young man whose decision has become a kind of parable for our age. A mechanical engineering student with a perfect 4.79 grade point average trying to pack his books, to leave the university, and enrolled in a short ICT training course. These were the kinds of stories that some of our social media influencers would have celebrated a few years ago as a hero of the new order — a bold proof that “skills, not degrees” is the smarter path. His story would have been shared again and again, to show a courageous young man who took the risk to free himself from the shackles of formal education system.

As unbelievable as it may sound, this singular act by this first class student raises a troubling question. Can a region like northern Nigeria, already staggering under the weight of failing schools, broken hospitals, insecurity and a fraying civic infrastructure, afford to treat education as optional?

I recently told a group of students that even if every graduate in Nigeria were employed tomorrow — the good, the bad, and the ugly — we would still not have enough trained people to fill the needs of our region or the country in general. Our schools either lack teachers or are very inadequate. Our hospitals are in desperate need for doctors, nurses, and lab scientists. Universities cannot recruit enough lecturers, technicians, or even cleaners. Yet, some social media influencers were busy talking children out of schools instead of calling for the reform of the system that should produce these vital workers. They are busy preaching to young people to abandon education and opt for short skills courses. We are also allowing a shallow slogan to persuade parents and children to abandon it altogether.

The evidence of our neglect is everywhere. Driving back from Jos to Zaria yesterday, I passed the abandoned NNPC depot, a monument to wasted millions. I compared that ghostly structure to the crumbling road from Jos to Saminaka to Pambegua and finally to Zaria — a journey through broken promises. This is the real context in which the “skills over degrees” mantra thrives: a country where public systems fail and frustration tempts people toward any quick fix.

But a society cannot run on quick fixes. Skills matter — desperately so — but skills without a solid educational foundation cannot sustain a nation. Technical training may teach a task, but it does not prepare teachers to guide the next generation, or doctors to save lives, or engineers to rebuild roads and power grids. When we pull children out of school for short courses, we do not just gamble with their futures; we shrink the pool from which our most essential professionals must come.

Social media influencers rarely tell this part of the story. They only highlight the exceptional programmer who builds a start-up or the influencer who turns a side hustle into sudden wealth. They rarely admit how rare these successes are, or how much they depend on location, capital, and connections. A path that works for a lucky few in Lagos or Abuja is not a blueprint for a rural child in Bauchi or Sokoto whose school barely has electricity or even a roof.

Each child withdrawn from school weakens the very public goods on which communities depend. Teachers, nurses, and scientists do not appear by magic; they are produced by years of structured education. Sacrificing degrees for quick certificates today means empty classrooms and understaffed hospitals tomorrow.

I think what we kept drumming over the years was not what some are advocating, i.e., dismissing formal education in favour of skills. But a shift in policy that will formally integrate our education with the "hard" skills some people are talking about especially at primary and secondary school level. Northern Nigeria needs a dual commitment: defend and upgrade formal schooling while embedding practical, accredited skills inside it. We need well-funded technical and vocational programmes, modern curricula that combine theory with application, and policies that create real jobs for our secondary school kids and skilled artisans. Short courses should complement schooling, not replace it.

We must also hold our writers, influencers, and policy advocates accountable. Words have consequences. Every post, comment or tweet that glorifies the dropout without context nudges another parent to pull a child out of school. Every careless article deepens the illusion that a nation can prosper without an educated citizenry.

The young man who wants to leave his degree for an ICT certificate may yet succeed. But his individual gamble cannot be a model for millions. Northern Nigeria’s future depends on more teachers, more doctors, more engineers, more thinkers — not fewer. Skills are powerful, but only when rooted in strong schools and recognised credentials. Anything less is not innovation; it is surrender.