In the quiet corners of rural Nigeria and the forgotten edges of city suburbs, one need only look around to witness a chilling symbol of systemic neglect: uncompleted school buildings, cracked foundations overrun with weeds, walls left unpainted, roofs never installed or partially damaged. These are the remnants of promises once made to the Nigerian child, promises of access to quality education, of better futures, of inclusion in a developing nation. Instead, these skeletal structures stand as monuments to failed governance, corruption, and a persistent national crisis.
The crisis of abandoned school projects in Nigeria is not merely a logistical failure; it is a deep moral and developmental wound. Education is universally recognised as a fundamental human right and a cornerstone of national progress. Yet, in Nigeria, this right is continuously denied to thousands of children simply because the buildings meant to house their learning remain incomplete *especially in rural areas). From the mangrove-swamped Niger Delta to the dry plains of the North, stories abound of schools where teaching takes place under trees or within walls with no roofs, no windows, and no hope. In 2022, the Universal Basic Education Commission (UBEC) admitted that over 4,000 school projects across the country had either stalled or been abandoned due to bureaucratic delays, poor monitoring, or outright misappropriation of funds.
In 2024, All Africa.com reported that uncompleted classrooms are keeping students out of school in Kaduna. Initially, it was repoted that in 2018, the Kaduna State Universal Basic Education Commission (SUBEB), in a 50-50 counterpart funding with the Universal Basic Education Commission (UBEC), awarded five contracts to Parkmore Construction Limited for the construction of blocks of 24 classrooms, offices, and toilets across several local governments. By 2020, a report of one of the five projects by Ripples Centre for Data and Investigative Journalism confirmed the abandonment. In addition, In October 2012, Mr Ibikunle Amosun, former President of Ogun State claimed that 15 out of 26 model schools would be ready in 2013, by August 1, 2020, Premium Times reported that only the Akin Ogunpola College remains the only one of the proposed model schools used for academic activities. In fact, some of the schools were never completed. Others which were completed couldn’t attract students, were never inhabited and have since been abandoned. These were just some of the many cases of abandoned school projects in Nigeria.
The roots of this epidemic lie in a complex web of factors, from weak institutional oversight to inflated contracts, from political patronage to the exploitation of community desperation. In many cases, contracts for school buildings are awarded as political favours rather than through due process. Once the initial mobilisation fee is paid, contractors vanish, leaving the projects to rot. Poor monitoring systems and the absence of punitive consequences mean that such practices often go unchecked. Communities, initially excited by the sight of foundation trenches and truckloads of cement, are soon left in despair as the promised transformation fails to materialise.
Even when school buildings are completed, many lack the basic facilities required for learning. Classrooms without desks, libraries without books, and science blocks without equipment are the norm in many rural communities. A 2021 report by the Nigerian Union of Teachers (NUT) highlighted that over 60% of primary schools in Nigeria lacked functional infrastructure. These deficits directly affect learning outcomes, dropout rates, and students’ motivation to pursue education. In some areas, especially in conflict-affected states like Borno and Zamfara, abandoned school structures have even been repurposed by insurgent groups or left to decay into dangerous ruins.
The human cost of these abandoned projects is staggering. Children in underserved communities, particularly girls, are disproportionately affected. With no safe and functional school environments, many parents, especially in conservative or low-income households — are discouraged from sending their children to school. This further widens the gap in educational attainment between urban and rural populations, and between boys and girls. In regions where insecurity already threatens daily life, the additional burden of infrastructural collapse compounds educational inequality.
Moreover, this epidemic undermines the very policies and initiatives designed to boost education. The Universal Basic Education (UBE) programme, introduced to provide free and compulsory education for all children at the basic level, cannot succeed when the facilities intended to support it lie in ruin. Similarly, the Safe Schools Initiative, aimed at protecting schools from attacks and ensuring continuity of learning, becomes futile if students have no proper classrooms to return to. When schools are abandoned mid-construction, it is not just the buildings that are left unfinished, the futures of entire generations are placed in jeopardy.
The economic implications are equally dire. Education is often described as a long-term investment with high returns. Countries that invest in building and maintaining quality school infrastructure tend to experience better economic performance, improved health outcomes, and reduced crime rates. Nigeria, however, loses billions annually in productivity and development potential because of its poorly educated youth population. According to UNESCO, Nigeria has the highest number of out-of-school children in the world, estimated at over 20 million as of 2023, many of whom are kept away not by choice but by the absence of a usable classroom.
Solutions to this endemic problem are neither far-fetched nor overly complex, but they require political will, transparency, and sustained community involvement. Strengthening procurement processes, enforcing penalties for abandoned projects, and increasing public access to data on education spending are crucial steps. Community-based monitoring and reporting mechanisms have also shown promise in holding contractors and government agencies accountable. States like Ekiti and Kaduna have piloted digital platforms that allow citizens to report stalled projects in real time, encouraging greater transparency.
Additionally, budgetary priorities must shift. While the Nigerian government often pledges billions for defence and political office maintenance, education is frequently relegated to the background. In 2022, just over 5% of the national budget was allocated to education, far below the UNESCO-recommended minimum of 15-20%. Without adequate funding, even the best policies will falter. Investment must not only be increased but directed wisely, ensuring that infrastructure projects are completed, maintained, and aligned with community needs.
Equally important is fostering partnerships between government, private sector stakeholders, and civil society. Philanthropic foundations, NGOs, and corporate social responsibility initiatives can play a pivotal role in supplementing public efforts. However, such partnerships must be guided by data, accountability, and a clear understanding of local contexts. Building a school is not merely about brick and mortar; it is about creating an environment where dreams can take shape, where futures can be forged.
Perhaps most critically, the voices of the affected communities must be amplified. Parents, teachers, and students know best the toll these abandoned projects take. Their insights, frustrations, and hopes must inform decision-making processes. It is not enough to celebrate Children’s Day with speeches and banners while classrooms crumble in the background. Real change begins with listening and acting, on the concerns of those most impacted.
In a country where young people make up more than half the population, the importance of education cannot be overstated. Nigeria’s future depends on whether it chooses to complete its classrooms or leave them in perpetual construction. The unfinished classroom is more than a symbol of failed infrastructure, it is a metaphor for unfulfilled potential, for a nation still struggling to educate its children in the 21st century. Until the last block is laid, the last desk installed, and the last teacher appointed, the work remains incomplete.
