In Nigerian schools today (both public and private), abuse persists in different forms: physical punishment, verbal degradation, emotional manipulation, sexual exploitation, and systemic neglect. But what is even more concerning than the abuse itself is the culture of silence that surrounds it. Far too often, students suffer in silence, trapped in a system where reporting abuse feels more dangerous than enduring it. Why do students rarely speak up? Why do cases of abuse often come to light only after tragic consequences? The answers lie in a combination of fear, stigma, power imbalance, broken reporting structures, and a deeply ingrained culture of silence.
For educators, parents, and policymakers invested in safeguarding Nigerian learners, understanding these barriers is non-negotiable. It is only by acknowledging the roots of silence that we can create an environment where students feel protected, empowered, and truly safe. In most Nigerian schools, teachers and school authorities hold absolute power. Students are expected to obey, not question. This imbalance makes it almost impossible for victims of abuse, particularly from authority figures to come forward. Many students fear that reporting a teacher or senior staff member could result in victimisation, poor grades, expulsion, or worse. In boarding schools, where students live under the direct control of staff, this power dynamic is even more intense. When abusers are also caretakers, students often feel cornered with no safe way to escape or speak out.
A significant part of the problem lies in how certain abusive behaviours have been normalised within Nigeria’s educational culture. Corporal punishment, verbal humiliation, excessive labour, and even denial of food or rest are still accepted practices in some schools, viewed as “discipline” rather than abuse. When students are raised to believe that being flogged or yelled at is part of learning, they are unlikely to report such experiences because they don’t recognise them as abuse. This confusion creates an environment where harmful behaviours are excused and replicated across generations.
Many students don’t report abuse simply because they don’t believe anything will be done. In some cases, complaints to school management are ignored or dismissed. In worse situations, students who report abuse are accused of lying, punished, or labelled as troublemakers.
With little confidence in the system, students quickly learn that silence is safer than speaking out. This distrust extends to parents and guardians who, when approached, may downplay the issue, ask their child to “endure,” or choose to protect the school’s reputation rather than pursue justice.
Stigma is another major deterrent, especially in cases of sexual abuse. Victims are often shamed, blamed, or socially ostracised. In many Nigerian communities, a girl who reports sexual abuse is at risk of being labelled “spoilt” or “promiscuous,” while a boy may be told to “man up” or accused of weakness. Rather than receiving support, students fear being judged by their peers, teachers, and even family members. This deep-rooted culture of shame silences victims and emboldens perpetrators, who operate with a sense of impunity.
Even when students do want to report abuse, the question is: how? Many Nigerian schools lack clear, confidential, and child-friendly reporting mechanisms. There are no anonymous boxes in many schools, dedicated counsellors, helplines, or safe adults clearly identified as points of contact. When reporting relies on students walking into the principal’s office or publicly naming their abuser, it becomes a process that’s not only intimidating but also risky. Without structured systems that prioritise the student’s safety, confidentiality, and dignity, reporting becomes nearly impossible.
In addition, some students don’t report abuse simply because they don’t know their rights. There is a glaring absence of child protection education in the school curriculum. Many young learners are unaware that what they’re experiencing is abusive or that they are entitled to safety, dignity, and respect in the learning environment. Moreover, schools rarely teach students how to report abuse, what language to use, or who to turn to. In the absence of such education, silence becomes the default.
Howbeit, parents play a critical role in whether a student feels safe enough to report abuse. Unfortunately, many Nigerian parents prioritise academic performance and discipline over a child’s emotional or psychological wellbeing. When a student complains of being mistreated, some parents dismiss it, arguing that “that’s how we were trained too” or “you must be the one at fault.” This lack of empathy sends a clear message to the child: reporting abuse is futile. In such homes, silence isn’t just encouraged, it’s enforced.
Abuse in schools thrives when oversight is weak. Many regulatory bodies, such as the State Ministry of Education or Universal Basic Education Commission (UBEC), lack the manpower or resources to routinely monitor schools, particularly private or rural ones. Without periodic audits, surprise visits, or accountability frameworks, schools can cover up abuse without consequence. Students, in turn, see the system as complicit in their silence.
Abuse in boarding schools is uniquely complex. The closed environment, combined with isolation from parents, creates an environment where abuse can flourish undetected. Students often fear that speaking out will make them targets, not just of staff but of other students loyal to the abuser or to the institution. In many high-profile abuse cases involving boarding schools in Nigeria, victims only come forward years later, sometimes in adulthood, due to the trauma and suppression they endured.
If Nigerian schools are to be safe spaces, then this silence must be broken. Government should establish child protection policies in every school, with clear definitions of abuse and procedures for reporting and also train staff and students on recognising and reporting abuse. Also, schools should create anonymous reporting systems accessible to students without fear of retaliation. Anonymous boxes can be placed in designated places. Also, anonymous links can be placed on the school’s website.
Federal government should integrate child rights education into the curriculum so students understand what is acceptable and what is not. In addition, schools should empower school counsellors and ensure their presence is felt and trusted. While doing this, they should involve parents through education and sensitisation campaigns that reframe their understanding of child safety.
The silence surrounding abuse in Nigerian schools is not accidental. It is built into the system, maintained by fear, normalisation, stigma, and broken structures. Until we prioritise the voices and wellbeing of students, abuse will remain hidden, and learning environments will continue to do harm. We must start listening. And more importantly, we must create systems where students can speak and be believed.
