Editorial: Navigating Two Worlds: The Dual Identities of Final Year Students at the University of Ibadan

Final year in university is often described as the home stretch, a period of wrapping up academic obligations and preparing to move on. At the University of Ibadan, this experience is more complex than that simple description suggests. Final year students inhabit a peculiar space, living in two worlds at once. On one hand, they remain full-time undergraduates with lectures to attend, projects to submit, and examinations to prepare for. On the other, they are individuals on the verge of losing that status, compelled to grapple with the uncertainties of life after school. This dual identity—still student, almost graduate—is a reality that deserves attention.

The student identity persists with all its familiar demands. In the second semester, classes remain rigorous, project work weighs heavily, and examinations still determine the grade point average that will follow graduates for years. Academic deadlines and departmental responsibilities do not ease simply because a student is in his final year. Indeed, the academic workload often intensifies. Many students spend long hours in libraries and laboratories while balancing the challenge of completing their project research. This alone would be demanding. But layered onto it is the need to confront the demands of a rapidly approaching transition.

That transition involves entering a labour market that has never been more competitive. According to the National Bureau of Statistics, Nigeria’s unemployment rate stood at 5.3 percent in the first quarter of 2024. Yet this headline number hides troubling details: graduates and those with post-secondary education face unemployment levels of around 9.0 percent, compared to 4.0 percent for those with only primary education. This paradox, in which more schooling increases the likelihood of being jobless, is a reality final year students cannot ignore. Each year, Nigeria produces about 600,000 graduates from more than 300 higher institutions. The available job opportunities fall far short of absorbing this influx. The result is a saturated market that leaves many graduates stranded soon after convocation.

In addition to the numbers, there are pressing societal expectations. Families who have invested years of sacrifice and resources expect graduates to quickly translate their degrees into jobs, income, and stability. Society itself often regards a degree as a passport to success, overlooking the systemic barriers graduates face. For many final year students, this creates pressure that is psychological as well as practical. They carry the burden of preparing for examinations while simultaneously worrying about how to justify the faith of their parents or sponsors once the certificate is in hand.

There is also the internal expectation, shaped by comparisons among peers. Some students already boast internships, side businesses, or postgraduate admissions. Others appear to have mapped out their next steps. For those still uncertain, the contrast can be demoralising. The idea that one must graduate with both academic distinction and a ready-made plan for life after school has become a new standard, even though it is often unrealistic.

This dual identity also exposes a structural gap. Universities have traditionally focused on academic training, with less emphasis on preparing students for the transition to work or entrepreneurship. While initiatives exist, such as seminars, career fairs, and workshops, they often reach too few students or come too late. The result is that many final year students confront life after school without sufficient guidance, practical experience, or networks. Employers demand “one to two years’ experience” for entry-level roles, yet few students are able to access opportunities that provide that experience while still enrolled. This mismatch between academic preparation and market demands only deepens the sense of uncertainty.

The emotional toll of this reality should not be underestimated. Studies of student transitions consistently highlight anxiety, self-doubt, and fear of the unknown as common among final year students. These are compounded by Nigeria’s broader economic challenges: high inflation, rising cost of living, and limited availability of decent work. The situation has contributed to the popular “Japa” trend, in which young Nigerians increasingly seek opportunities abroad as the surest path to advancement. Final year students are not immune to this sentiment; for many, the question is no longer whether to leave, but how.

Yet despite these challenges, the final year stage can also be reframed as an opportunity. It is the period where students begin to consciously craft new identities beyond the undergraduate label. Some take steps toward entrepreneurship, others pursue digital skills, while many explore professional certifications that complement their degrees. What is essential is recognition that this dual identity is not a weakness but a stage of growth. It is the bridge between the structured life of the classroom and the uncertain but open-ended world beyond.

This is where universities, faculties, and student bodies have a role to play. Academic institutions must do more than train students for examinations; they must prepare them for life after school. Embedding career development, entrepreneurship training, and mentorship more deliberately into curricula can ease the burden of transition. Employers, too, must recognise that graduates cannot be expected to possess years of experience upon entry. Partnerships that create structured internships and entry-level opportunities would make the dual identity less disorienting.

The University of Ibadan prides itself as the nation’s premier university. As such, it must lead in redefining the final year experience. Beyond examinations and convocation ceremonies, there should be a deliberate focus on equipping students with the tools to thrive in a difficult environment. Otherwise, the risk is that final year remains a period marked not only by academic closure but also by heightened anxiety and disillusionment.

Ultimately, the editorial position is clear: final year students live in two worlds, and the demands of both are real. They are undergraduates finishing their obligations, and at the same time, graduates-in-waiting preparing to enter a challenging economy. This dual identity is not simply a personal struggle; it is a structural issue that deserves recognition. The university community and society at large must engage with it thoughtfully. If final year is to be more than just a stressful limbo, it must be reframed as a stage of preparation where students are supported to step confidently into the future. Anything less is a disservice to those about to leave the classroom behind.