Between Academic Pressure and Drowning in Societal Expectations

By: Marvellous Olajide

“You must become a doctor.” “First class or nothing.” “You are the hope of this family.” “Your younger ones are looking up to you” or “you must excel like your older siblings ”

There is always that statement that fits perfectly into your context. Welcome to the Nigerian academic system, where pressure is not just a side effect, it is the entire game. If you are a Nigerian student, chances are you have heard these words or something painfully similar times unnumbered. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in UI, UNILAG, ABU, Covenant, or any polytechnic, the weight of expectation is the same, and it is heavy

Many students walk around with smiles on their faces, but what you do not see is the panic attack they had the night before an exam. You do not see the sleepless nights spent cramming textbooks by torchlight because ‘NEPA’ struck again. You don’t hear the silent prayers of a student battling depression because their whole identity is tied to grades.

The pressure is not just academic, it is cultural. You are not just studying to pass; you are studying to survive. To be a “success,” not just for yourself but for your parents and guardians. For many, failure isn’t an option, it’s a disgrace. In many Nigerian homes, especially those from low-income backgrounds, one child’s university admission is the entire family’s dream. That child becomes “the chosen one.” And while it’s empowering to be seen as the family’s future, it also means that failure isn’t personal, it’s collective.

There’s no room to say “I’m tired.” No space to say “I’m confused.” Definitely no courage to say “I need help.” So, what happens? Students burn out.

The system doesn’t help also because, truthfully, Nigeria’s educational system isn’t built for mental wellness. Lecturers sometimes treat students like nuisances, not learners. Course loads are packed, yet resources are minimal. You might be taking 11 courses in one semester without a break in sight. And even worse, some students study in hostels without stable electricity, running water or in classrooms with broken fans in 35°C heat.

How is a student supposed to thrive under these conditions? Even when students recognise that they are mentally struggling, where do they go? Counseling services on most campuses are either non-functional or hard to access. In many cases, students fear being labeled as “lazy,” “weak,” or even “mad.” How can we fix anything when we can’t even talk about it? We can’t change the system overnight, but we can change how we treat each other within it. It starts with conversation and empathy:

-Let students speak about mental health without shame.

-Let lecturers treat students as humans, not numbers.

-Let families encourage rest and self-worth, not just results.

Most importantly, let’s redefine success. It’s not always about First Class. It’s not always about medicine, law, or engineering. Success is peace of mind. It is a life with balance. It’s a student who survives, not the one who breaks. To every Nigerian student feeling the pressure: You are not alone. You are not a failure because you’re tired. You are not weak because you cried after a test. You are not lazy because you paused to rest. You are doing your best in a system that often asks for too much. And sometimes, that is more than enough.

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