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JAMB: The Gatekeeper That Shuts Out Dreams or Secures the Future?

Nigeria was rocked by the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board’s (JAMB) results this year. 76% of applicants received a score of less than 200 out of 400.

Chinonso is twenty years old. In the last JAMB, she received a score of 265. This was her third attempt, so it wasn’t her first time. Every morning, she folds her bedsheet like a border and washes her uniform of disappointment, even though her older brother nicknames her “Professor” at home. Although her aspirations to study medicine at UNN are genuine, dreams in Nigeria don’t often materialize despite hard work. They react to systems. One is JAMB.

The Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB), which dominates Nigeria’s higher education system, frequently acts as a tollgate rather than a bridge to opportunity.

It was intended to be the great equalizer, a filter based on merit that gave all students an equal opportunity to pursue higher education, regardless of their background. However, the ambiguities inside that promise have devoured it whole.

The Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) was founded in Nigeria in 1978 with the goal of standardizing and coordinating the university admissions procedure. Each university administered its own entrance tests prior to JAMB, which resulted in irregularities, multiple admissions for some applicants, and exclusion for others. By implementing a single, standardized test, JAMB sought to expedite admissions, advance equity, and lessen the financial and administrative strain on students.

As time went on, JAMB’s responsibilities grew to include admissions to educational institutions and polytechnics.

To improve the testing procedure, technological innovations were used, such as computer-based testing (CBT).

Nevertheless, difficulties still exist in spite of these advancements. Critiques have focused on issues like the validity period of findings, the need for institutions to conduct post-UTME examinations, and worries about the general effectiveness of the admissions process. These persistent problems highlight the necessity of continual assessment and improvement to guarantee that JAMB carries out its basic objective of offering all Nigerian students an equitable and effective admissions process.

To get to a test location, a student must travel numerous kilometers. He avoids strange computers, an epileptic power supply, and the hum of invigilators pacing behind him and writes the test under pressure.

He gets by. He’s happy. Then, without admission, hope slowly dies. No cause. Only a doorway that blinks and never speaks his name.

In Nigeria, JAMB is the only test in which you can do exceptionally well and still fail.

According to the 2025 figures, 1.5 million of the 1.9 million pupils received a score of less than 200. Private schools are furious, pupils are screaming, and parents are crying.

The fissures in the system have grown into abysses. Hashtags like #ThisIsNotMyResult, a digital cry from students who feel their futures have been tampered with, exploded on social media. stunned by the unfathomably low marks and perplexed by the lack of response from those in charge of the country’s academic entrance.

The country shrugs. Was there a fault in the system? A more rigorous grading system? Or simply the last nail in the coffin of our foundational education’s cracked shell? No one is aware. The registrar just stated that they made a mistake. JAMB just provides numbers, not actual answers.

However, names and aspirations of future leaders lie beyond the numbers. lives. While they waited for a system to clear, talents stuck like vehicles on a terrible Nigerian road.

The fact that the JAMB results expire makes this much more terrible. As if intellect had a shelf life, JAMB expires after a year, in contrast to WAEC or NECO, which are valid for life. As though a pupil who did exceptionally well the previous year is suddenly unworthy this year. The identical test. The same understanding.

The same applicant. However, the outcome is unfavorable, much like milk.

The JAMB result is like a flame in the wind that is snuffed before it can light the way, their dreams ensnared in bureaucratic cobwebs.

And you pay if you dare to try again. Fees are eight thousand naira, sometimes more. Move. Food. Accommodation. That’s two months’ worth of survival money for some families. However, every time students retake JAMB five, six, or seven times, their confidence is damaged, and every outcome creates a fresh wound.

A system that retests pupils it did not admit is ineffective and inhumane.

How can you explain to your child that the system, not them, was to blame for the failure?

What went wrong?

Ironically, institutions need students to take the Post-UTME exam after passing JAMB, implying that we don’t trust JAMB either. So why is it there? What exactly is the purpose of JAMB if it doesn’t command confidence or ensure admission?

Yes, computer-based testing, CCTV, and speedy results have all improved JAMB’s testing efficiency, but these advancements are like polishing a car with a broken engine. It sparkles but remains still.

We need to pose challenging queries.

Why are there just two options for universities?

In a nation with a wide range of talent, why are the score cutoffs so strict?

Why is admission no longer a door but a battleground?

In actuality, JAMB is trapping pupils rather than helping them. It is adding locks instead of opening doors. Nigeria is also losing its future as a result of this.

Barbed wire at the entrance to school is not an affordable solution for a country that needs teachers, engineers, doctors, and scientists. We are transforming aspiration into fear. We are substituting sorrow for merit.

It’s time to give colleges their power back. Permit them to create entry systems that are consistent with their beliefs and disciplines. Allow regional partnerships to develop. Make character, performance, and passion the standard for holistic admissions. Never tell a child that they are unworthy just because a system failed to recognize them.

Other nations, such as South Africa, employ a multifaceted strategy. The US takes into account community service, high school grades, and personal writings. They don’t just measure the pupil; they also aim to get to know them.

Nigeria is able to follow suit. First, though, we have to acknowledge this. The current version of JAMB is no longer suitable.

This reality must be acknowledged by the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU). The Ministry of Education needs to put bravery ahead of practicality. Once defending JAMB as a unifying force, former President Obasanjo would be horrified to see what it has devolved into—a bureaucratic bouncer at the gates of education.

Chinonso continues to learn at home. She took the JAMB this year; however, her results fell far short of her previous JAMB marks.

Why? The registrar claims that there was a system error and that they must retake the test. However, something is shattering inside of her this time. She told her mother yesterday that she might not want to attend school.

No. It’s not God. The system is the cause.

In this rare instance, JAMB demonstrated honesty under this leadership, despite its numerous structural faults.

There was a sliver of institutional consciousness amid the gloom.

The Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) has shown uncommon bravery in a time when public institutions frequently deny mistakes rather than own up to them. An organization acknowledges that it made a mistake. That’s just what JAMB accomplished.

JAMB didn’t back down in the face of loud protests from students and worried parents over the technological chaos that plagued the UTME in 157 centers in Lagos, Ebonyi, Anambra, Imo, Abia, and Enugu.

They paid attention. They looked into it. They discovered proof. They also took responsibility.

The hitches affected more than 379,000 candidates. Many believed that was the end of their journey. However, JAMB accepted responsibility and set up a makeup exam for May 16–19 rather than brushing it under the rug. We don’t see something like that very often.

Making errors is one thing. Admitting them, particularly in public, is a different matter. Prof. Ishaq Oloyede opted for honesty in a system where ego frequently takes precedence. He did not shift responsibility.

He didn’t act as though it hadn’t occurred. “We were wrong,” he remarked simply and proceeded to correct it.

Here, that type of leadership is uncommon. It is a human. It’s not bad. And it is worthy of recognition.

More people in Nigeria who don’t let pride stand in the way of doing the right thing are needed. Congratulations, Professor Oloyede.

The findings of the 2025 UTME have shown long-standing problems in Nigeria’s educational system. This is a clear sign of institutional flaws rather than just a reflection of student achievement.

These results have been influenced by a number of factors, including infrastructure shortcomings, poor planning, and technical issues.

Why don’t they retake the test for every applicant, in my opinion?

The test and admissions procedures need to be thoroughly reviewed and redesigned in light of this circumstance. To rebuild trust in the system and guarantee that students receive accurate and fair evaluations, it is essential to confront these issues head-on.

The validity and efficacy of Nigeria’s educational evaluations will determine the country’s youth’s destiny. It’s time for all parties involved to get together, take note of these flaws, and put long-term fixes that put student achievement and academic excellence first into practice.