My own life taught me this lesson early. Immediately after my first degree, I found myself in Ibadan. Since my school would not mobilise us immediately for NYSC, my father encouraged me to pursue a one-year diploma at the University of Ibadan. At the same time, my brother introduced me to Tayo, a skilled fashion designer known for creating shirts that rivaled boutique quality. I went to his workshop to learn tailoring. My arrangement was straightforward: lectures in the morning, workshop sessions on selected days.
Something unexpected happened. Through my campus exposure and interactions with graduating students, I began spotting opportunities. I proposed an idea to Tayo: What if we designed customised graduation outfits for departments? What if we marketed directly to departmental executives? What if fashion met organisation? That small idea became a thriving business. Departmental executives engaged us, orders surged, machines ran overnight, and everyone won (I made money). Ironically, I never mastered tailoring properly, business pulled me away before NYSC began.
Before I left, Tayo told me he would miss me. Not because I had become the best tailor, but because my education had helped me see the trade differently. Education did not make me superior. It made me useful. And maybe that is the heart of the matter.
Something has changed in our society, and many who grew up in Nigeria before this present dispensation (2000s) feel it deeply. There was a time when being called olodo - an ignoramus or dullard was among the sharpest insults. Society collectively believed that learning was one of the noblest paths to dignity. Parents preached it, schools reinforced it, and communities rewarded it. Songs like “Bata mi a dun kokoka” and “Eko dara pupo” echoed through the assembly grounds and classrooms, promising that hard study would announce success through confident footsteps and that those who neglected books might end up serving those who embraced them. These were not mere melodies; they shaped ambition, instilled delayed gratification, and produced a generation that respected knowledge even when it did not pay immediately.
Education delivered more than certificates. It shaped manners, preserved value system, taught structure, and fostered respectful discourse. Teachers commanded more respect than police officers in many communities. Being educated meant more than schooling, it signified good upbringing and social discipline.
Then the world shifted. Success now arrives through new doors: entertainment, digital influence, content creation, algorithms, and virality.
Recently, rapper YCee ignited a fierce online conversation by describing an “olodo uprising,” arguing that Nigerian society no longer celebrates academic excellence and has grown comfortable rewarding virality over substance; pointing to what he termed “Peller culture.” The remarks sparked strong reactions. Content creator Jarvis pushed back, noting that many educated youths turn to digital work because economic realities have made traditional jobs scarce. People like Ladipoe added nuance, reminding everyone that education and intelligence are not the same thing.
My concern has never been that people succeed outside formal education. Tailors, mechanics, artisans, and creators deserve respect and wealth…trade is honourable. What worries me is when society begins to mock learning itself, when curiosity becomes uncool, expertise optional, and ignorance entertainment. When children start believing school is irrelevant.
School was never a scam; it was simply oversold as the only route. Nations like Japan and China long ago balanced formal education with technical competence, vocational training, innovation, and applied skills. What we need is not an uprising of olodo, but an emergence of ologo - people glorified not merely for attending school, but for learning, adapting, and creating real value.
School should not compete with skill, nor skill insult school. One teaches structure and thinking; the other teaches execution and movement. The future belongs to those who combine both. Education is beautiful, it opens doors. Wisdom helps you choose which ones to enter, and skill ensures you stay and thrive.
Written by Ayomide Abiona
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