There was a time when being a student was fun.
All a student had to worry about was graduating with a first class, attending parties, and meeting the 65% of class attendance requirement. Other than these, life wasn’t more than bread and beans, arguing about football, relationships, or whether Wizkid was better than Davido.
But something changed.
Over the last decade, things have fallen apart, and they are still falling, probably more times than rain this year. Entry-level jobs demanded experience from people who had barely left school, there were back to back ASUU strikes, global inflation, and a collapsing Nigerian economy made the need to survive more important than schooling.
As we speak, somewhere in Nigeria, a final year student is leading a one-man marketing team between lectures.
He is inside a crowded classroom of over 100 students, pretending to look at a course outline on his laptop. What he’s actually doing is reading messages on Slack: a client wants yet another revision, and the brand designer is asking for feedback. The lecturer is explaining something about Pascal’s policy.
“Pascal? Which one be Pascal again? Did he mean fiscal policy?” He isn’t sure.
Two rows behind him, another student is editing a Canva presentation for a startup founder in Lekki. Someone beside the window is replying to emails with the seriousness of a market woman counting money. At the back of the class, one guy suddenly stands up and rushes outside because his “father is calling.”
But that’s not his father.
It’s his boss.
This is campus life now.
The line between school and work has collapsed in Nigeria, and it is not without some consequences.
It Is Costing Students Their Rest
The thing about working while in school is that it doesn’t just take your time and focus; it takes your soul. Students are now losing the parts of them that made them students. They are exhausted trying to juggle work, classes, assignments, events, relationships, and other commitments.
I know this because I was one of them.
In my final year, while writing my project, I left campus 2 or 3 times a week for work, returning each time feeling like a father of 5. My laptop was always open, glued to my body like a rat in a mouse trap, only that the laptop was the trap, and I was the mouse. I was always tired and busy.
There was always something to edit, something to submit, something due.
I had no time for relationships, games, or hobbies.
It Is Costing Students Their Time
One of the first things students lose when they start working in school is time.
They lose actual breathing space that allows them to attend classes properly, rest properly, or even gist without checking their phone every five minutes.
I saw this one afternoon when I visited a friend, Tolani, at her hostel room. I was expecting the usual student banter around assignments, lecturers, and hostels. But by the time I arrived, she was panicking over a recent query letter from work instead.
“Omo. I’d be in big trouble if I don’t submit this content calendar by 1 pm,” she said, as she kept beating her keyboard like an African mother flogging her child.

