MY EXPERIENCE TEACHING IN NIGERIA AND THEN CANADA

I would never have said out loud that my dream job was to become a teacher. In fact, being an educator was one of the professions I resented the most growing up. I did not have very good experiences with most of my high school teachers. Like many kids back then, I felt the discipline was too harsh, and because of that, I ended up resenting not just my teachers but the profession itself.

When I think about those days, the memories are mixed. There were good parts: the friends I spent my time with, the playing, the fights, the drama, all of that made school a little more bearable. But within that environment, there was a lot of pressure on children to perform, to be high achievers, and to follow a rigid definition of success. There was little room to simply be kids.

I had some good teachers, but the negative experiences overshadowed the positive ones. Over time, I carried timidness and self-criticism into adulthood. Even now, at 24, I sometimes feel anxiety even when I have done nothing wrong.

Back then, I wanted to be a banker. As a child, I watched my father go to the bank often, and the workers there seemed important and respected. I began shaping my academic choices toward that path. I was a good science student, but when it was time to choose a focus, I followed my interest in accounting, supported by parents who allowed me to choose my own direction. I performed well academically, often among the top students, even if I was not always ranked first.

At 16, I wrote my university entrance exams with hopes of studying accounting at Obafemi Awolowo University, but I did not meet the cut-off mark. I eventually gained admission into a university of education to study Economics Education. Ideally, I would have preferred studying accounting without the education component, but this was the closest option available.

The programme focused far more on mathematics and economics than on actual training to become a teacher. At that stage, I had little direction and was simply going through the motions. My interest in becoming an educator came later at the university. One significant influence was a lecturer who was not even directly my teacher. He was a deeply fair person. Fairness guided how he treated students and shaped how I viewed educators.

Not long after, I had my first real experience working with children in Nigeria as an educator. I taught in a less developed area in Ijebu-Ode, specifically in Aiyepe. The school was private but functioned more like a government school. Within their context, it represented a good standard. As teachers, we had enough resources to teach, although more could have been done. The children were remarkable. I taught across different classes. I handled mathematics briefly but mainly focused on economics and marketing.

In the classroom, Nigerian students were engaging, energetic, and sometimes troublesome. They were intelligent but not very curious. They accepted what was taught without questioning much. They participated actively and kept the classroom lively, but operated in school mode. The rigid structure kept them on edge. They responded with caution when corrected, and even small reprimands caused anxiety.

One thing that mattered to me was the kind of relationship I tried to build with them. Growing up, I never really felt that closeness with many of my own teachers. Because of that, I tried to be someone who felt approachable to the kids, more like an older brother than a distant authority figure. I shared small things with them when I could, even simple gifts.

A few of the students actually cried when they heard I was going. The moment stayed with me because it showed that the relationship meant something to them. For me, that was enough. It meant I had given them something I felt I lacked when I was in school.

In Canada, I was a programme leader for an after-school activity. I spent twenty-two hours weekly with children during school days and thirty-seven to forty hours during the summer. This allowed me to observe their lives away from the classroom walls. Canadian children had more freedom outside school. Nigerian students often left school to help parents with market stalls, hawking, or farming. I witnessed and heard these things directly from the children themselves. There was very little room for exploration outside school. 

The after-school programme in Canada gave children space to explore activities beyond classroom lessons. They engaged in arts and crafts, sports, STEM activities on special days, outdoor play, and visits from organisations. The environment allowed them to relax, explore freely, and develop confidence. Children here still faced struggles at home, but the environment allowed more openness. Compared to Nigerian students, they were more confident and vocal. At one point, a student said, “I had to go to school today, it sucks, doesn’t it, Lawrence?” Despite complaints, their educational experience offered far more freedom and support.

My memories of my time with the children in Canada are still very fresh because I only recently left the job. One small moment that stayed with me happened early on when one of the boys gave me a purple wristband as I arrived for work. He handed it to me at the door and said it was for being a “good leader.” It was the kind of thing an eight-year-old says without thinking too much about it, but for me it meant a lot. I still wear that wristband today, even though it has faded over time.

Small gestures like that stick with me because they feel very genuine.

Another moment I remember came after I returned from a trip. I had bought a small keychain while travelling that was originally meant for a friend, but because of scheduling, I could not see that friend for a while. At work, I noticed one of the kids wearing a shirt that matched the theme of the keychain. She had always been one of the most well-behaved and thoughtful kids I worked with, so I decided to give it to her instead. When I handed it to her, she was very excited, but the part that really stayed with me happened the next day. She came running up to me to show me where she had attached it and how it lit up. Watching that excitement over something so small reminded me how children often find happiness in the simplest things. 

In general, the most memorable part of working with the kids in Canada was how openly they showed their personalities. Some were loud, some were shy, some were very curious, and some were simply happy to have someone to talk to. The after-school environment also allowed me to see them outside the strict structure of school. They were free to play, explore activities, joke around, and express themselves in ways that felt very natural.

Looking back, what I cherish the most are not big dramatic moments but the small everyday interactions. Kids greeting you excitedly when you arrive, running up to tell you something they are proud of, or simply wanting your attention for a few minutes. Those moments made the work feel meaningful.

My experience with parents in Nigeria was limited because the head of the school handled most communication with them. As teachers, we focused on teaching and occasionally gave feedback about students when necessary. What I could observe from the students, however, was that many Nigerian children carried a strong sense of responsibility outside school. Some talked about helping their parents in markets, on farms, or with small family businesses. School was important, but it existed alongside family responsibilities. There was often a clear expectation that children should respect authority, listen carefully, and avoid getting into trouble. Discipline played a big role in that system. In many ways, structure was maintained through fear of punishment or strong correction from adults.

While that strict structure sometimes helped keep order, it also meant that students were often cautious. Many were less likely to question teachers or challenge ideas openly. They tended to follow instructions closely and focus on doing what was expected of them.

In Canada, the dynamic around parents was very different. As part of the after-school programme, staff were expected to interact with parents more frequently, whether through updates, conversations at pickup time, or occasional follow-ups. 

One thing I noticed was that Canadian children often seemed to have more freedom at home. Many were comfortable expressing their opinions, questioning rules, negotiating with adults, or testing boundaries. In some cases, that confidence was positive because children felt safe enough to speak up and be themselves. Children grow up learning about their rights from a young age, and that awareness sometimes means they are more willing to challenge authority or see how far they can go before a rule is enforced. 

At the same time, the structure sometimes felt looser. During the week, staff members might spend a lot of time reinforcing rules, routines, and respectful behaviour with the kids. But after the weekend, it could sometimes feel like everything had reset. Some children returned with habits that suggested the expectations at home were different from those at the programme. That created a cycle where we were constantly rebuilding structure during the week. Part of the job becomes guiding them back toward structure while still respecting that confidence and openness.

From my perspective, both systems had their strengths and weaknesses. Nigerian students often grew up with stronger discipline and clearer boundaries, but sometimes that structure was built on fear rather than confidence. Canadian students, on the other hand, often grew up feeling freer to express themselves and challenge ideas, but that freedom could sometimes make it harder to maintain consistent discipline.

One difference I noticed between students in Nigeria and Canada is how they talk about their future ambitions.

Growing up in Nigeria, many children are raised with a very realistic view of career paths. The range of acceptable answers is usually quite narrow. Most children talk about becoming doctors, engineers, teachers, or bankers. These are seen as stable professions that bring respect and financial security. Because of that mindset, there is usually very little room for unusual or imaginative answers when adults ask children what they want to become.

When I worked with students in Nigeria, I rarely heard playful or unconventional career ideas. Occasionally, a child would jokingly say they wanted to become whatever their father was, but often that was said in a joking or reluctant way rather than genuine excitement. In general, Nigerian children tend to approach that question seriously. From a young age, they are encouraged to think about realistic paths and practical outcomes.

In Canada, the range of answers I heard from children was much wider and sometimes quite funny. Some children would say they wanted to be superheroes like Superman or fictional characters like Barbie. Others mentioned becoming actors, YouTubers, hairdressers, or characters they admired. One child even said they wanted to work at McDonald’s. At first, that might sound like a small ambition, but in the Canadian context, it actually makes sense. Many young people here begin working part-time at grocery stores, fast food restaurants, or other entry-level jobs during their teenage years. These jobs are seen as a normal step toward gaining experience and learning responsibility.

Because of that environment, Canadian children often seem more comfortable exploring different ideas without worrying too much about whether the profession sounds prestigious. There is generally less stigma around different types of work. People understand that many jobs contribute to society and provide a living, even if they are not considered high-status careers.

From a balanced perspective, both approaches have their strengths. Nigerian children are often raised with a strong sense of realism about the future, understanding that education and career choices can strongly shape their lives. Canadian children, on the other hand, often grow up with more freedom to imagine possibilities and express creative ambitions without fear of judgment.

The main difference I observed was not necessarily about ambition itself, but about how much freedom children feel when expressing their dreams. In Nigeria, ambition is often tied to practicality and social expectations. In Canada, ambition sometimes begins with imagination before eventually becoming more realistic as children grow older.

Working with children in both Nigeria and Canada taught me a lot about patience. I often joke that I am the most impatient patient person I know. Sometimes what I think is impatience is really just anxiety, but over time, I have learned that working with children requires a certain level of calm and understanding.

If someone wants to work with kids, one of the first things they have to learn is not to take things personally. That is easier said than done because we are all human, but children are still developing in every aspect of life. They are learning how to communicate, how to control emotions, and how to understand the world around them. Keeping that in mind helped me avoid resentment or frustration when things did not go perfectly.

Personally, I am a fairly laid-back person. I try to focus on creating a positive environment and living as happily as I can, and that mindset helped me while working with the kids. Instead of expecting perfection, I try to give them space to grow.

I also find it difficult to say that one education system should simply copy the other. Both Nigeria and Canada have strengths and weaknesses, and each system reflects the culture around it. 

For me, the most important thing is giving children the opportunity to explore while still providing guidance. When children are allowed to explore, adults can better understand their personalities, strengths, and limits. From there, it becomes easier to decide when behaviour needs correction, when it needs support, or when it simply needs encouragement.

At the end of the day, children are just human beings at the beginning of their lives. They are smart and capable, but they are still learning how the world works. In many ways, adults are still learning that, too.