DrGenius EduAct Impact Foundation

Somewhere in Nigeria today, a child is being hurt in a place that should be the safest place in the world , home.

We talk about child abuse in statistics. In reports. In policy documents.

But this is not a statistic. This is a child's back.

We are glad this particular case has been addressed. But for every child whose story makes it to our timelines, there are hundreds whose cries never leave the four walls they are trapped in.

At DEAIF, child protection is not a programme. It is a conviction.

No child deserves this. Not one.

If you know a child being abused, speak. Report. Act. Your voice may be the only protection they have.

🟢 Share this. Silence is not neutrality. Silence is permission.

Democracy is not just a vote.

It is a girl in Kogi State who can read her ballot because someone taught her to read.
It is a child in a rural school who has a teacher that showed up today.
It is a community that knows its rights because education gave them a voice.

June 12 reminds us that democracy was fought for with blood and courage. But democracy only works when the people it serves are educated, informed and empowered.

At DEAIF, this is why we work. Because the most powerful thing you can give a child is knowledge, and knowledge is the foundation every true democracy is built on.

To every Nigerian who believes in a better future , Happy Democracy Day. 🇳🇬

Keep educating. Keep advocating. Keep showing up.

𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙉𝙞𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖, 𝙖 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙤 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚.

Not because of rain. Not because of homework. Because outside is no longer safe.

Today is International Play Day, and I need us to sit with that.

We have reduced "play" to phones and iPads. But real play? Real play is counting snails on the farm while mama harvests maize. It is splashing at the stream with your friends. It is trekking to school and counting how many houses before you arrive. It is mud between your fingers, leaves at the bottom of a tree, sand castles that collapse and get rebuilt.

Play is how a child makes sense of the world.

But how does a child play freely when insecurity has locked us indoors? When the streets feel dangerous? When school, the one place a child could still run, laugh and breathe, is now the place parents fear most?

Children need more than four walls and a syllabus. They need safety. They need space. They need childhood.

Today, we remember every child whose play was stolen, by fear, by abduction, by a system that forgot them.

Protect Nigerian children. Protect their right to play. Protect their right to simply be children.

🟢 Share this if you believe every child deserves a safe childhood.

𝙒𝙚 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙣. 𝙉𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙧.

Let me be clear from the start: I do not support the inclusion of LGBTQ content in children's educational media. Not in cartoons. Not in programmes targeting toddlers. Not anywhere aimed at young children. A child's educational space should be safe, age-appropriate, and centred on the child, not shaped by adult agendas from any direction. That is not a debate for me.

What I find interesting is that even within this conversation, people who identify as part of the LGBTQ community are pushing back on Sesame Street for the same reason, because there is a difference between acceptance and using a children's platform to introduce concepts that children are not developmentally ready to process. That distinction matters.

But here is the part of this conversation that nobody is touching:

The media does not raise children alone. We do.
Every adult in a child's daily life, parent, guardian, relative, teacher, neighbour, is shaping that child's understanding of the world long before any screen comes on. What children see at home, what they hear in conversation, who they live with and how those people live, that is the first classroom. It runs 24 hours a day and no regulator can touch it.

So when we say "the media is corrupting our children," I want us to also be honest about what the child is absorbing at home. You cannot make certain lifestyle choices as an adult, place a child in the middle of that daily reality, and then point at a television programme as the source of confusion. The child is watching you before the television even turns on.

Protecting children from content that is not appropriate for their age is right. But protection cannot stop at the remote control. It has to extend to every adult in that child's life asking honestly: in the choices I am making, have I thought about the child? Or only about myself?

Children deserve to grow up as children. That responsibility belongs to all of us, not just media executives.

Ogunnika Abosede | Educator & Founder, DEAIF

I saw the UNICEF UNICEF report. I read the comments. And as an educator who has taught in classrooms across this country, I think we are all a little bit right.

UNICEF says 1 in 4 children in Nigeria can read and solve basic mathematics by age 14. The internet did not take it quietly. I saw the reactions:
"Are they using Northern statistics to judge the whole country?"
"Nigerian children love education, this cannot be true."
"My 6-year-old can already read."
"What about the Maths Olympiad they just held in the East?"

I understand every single one of those reactions. And I also think every single one of them is missing something.

Here is what I know from being inside Nigerian classrooms, not as a researcher, but as a teacher who has stood in front of children in Plateau State, Kogi State, and Oyo State:
Nigeria is not one story.

The child in a private school in Lagos and the child in a rural public school in a state where the teacher shows up twice a week are both Nigerian children. Both will be counted in the same statistic. Both deserve the same standard of education. But they are not receiving it.

So when we say "that cannot be Nigeria", we are usually picturing the Nigeria we have access to. The schools our children attend. The neighbourhoods we know.

But the statistic is also counting the schools nobody visits. The classrooms with 80 children and one teacher. The JS2 student who was never properly taught phonics but has been moved up every year. That child exists. I have sat with that child.

The Maths Olympiad winners are real. Your 6-year-old who can read is real. And the child in a rural community who cannot decode a sentence at 13 is also real.
All of them are Nigeria.

The question I want us to sit with today is not whether the statistic is accurate. It is this: what are we doing for the children the statistic is describing?
Because they are there. And they are waiting.
— Ogunnika Abosede | Educator & Founder, DEAIF

At DEAIF, we go to the classrooms that are easy to forget. Because every child counts, including the ones not in your timeline.

DAY 2 POST

"A 2-year-old child is among the kidnapped. Read that again."

I need you to sit with this fact today.

A toddler. A child who still holds their mother's hand to cross the road. A child who probably still calls for "mummy" in the middle of the night.

That child has been in captivity for nine days.

There is nothing political about this. There is no "two sides" to this story. A baby is missing and that is a national emergency.

I am an educator and a child rights advocate. My entire life's work is about protecting and empowering children. And I am telling you, if this does not break your heart, check your heart.

We cannot be desensitised to this. We must not normalise this.

Government: bring. them. home.

Every. Last. One.

Day 2. Still here.

DAY 1 POST

"How many more times do we have to count our missing children?"

Chibok — 276 girls. 2014.
Zamfara — 279 girls. 2021.
Niger State — 303 children. 2025.
Oyo State — 46 children and teachers. 2026.

These are not just numbers. These are children with names, with dreams, with families who have not slept properly since the day they were taken.

Nigeria has been here before. And every time, we cry, we trend, we move on, and another school gets attacked.

When does it stop?

I am not trending this. I am not going to forget it in a week. I am an educator, a mother-figure to hundreds of young people across this country, and I refuse to normalize this.

Every child in captivity in Oyo State today deserves the full weight of this government's attention. Not tomorrow. Now.

Day 1. Still here. Still speaking.

It happened. We did it.

Today, Saturday 30th May 2026, the Genius Teacher Training Initiative was successfully held at Bright House Academy, Ayetoro Gbede, Kogi State — and we are beyond grateful.

As part of the UN Sustainable Development Platform UN SDSN Lead an SDG Advocacy Programme — Cohort 8, and in alignment with SDG 4: Quality Education, we brought together dedicated teachers from nursery, primary, and secondary schools in our community for a hands-on, practical capacity-building day.

Teachers were trained across four key tracks:
🟡 AI Tools — Using ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini & Afara AI to create lesson plans, worksheets & presentations
🟢 Numeracy — Early literacy and hands-on numeracy teaching strategies
🔴 Career Growth — Professional development and career progression for educators
🟣 Hands-On — Creating practical classroom activity materials and resources

Watching these teachers engage, ask questions, and use AI tools on their phones for the very first time, that was the moment. Each one left with at least one new skill and a commitment to apply it in their classroom this week. The potential impact on their pupils across Ayetoro Gbede is immeasurable.

This is why DRGenius EduAct Impact Foundation exists, to close the gap between the resources teachers deserve and the reality they face, one community at a time.

Thank you to our incredible facilitators, to Bright House Academy for hosting us, to Chief Obajemu for his community support, and to every teacher who showed up today with an open mind and a willing heart. You are the ones who will change the story of education in Ayetoro Gbede.

And to our SDG Advocate, Ogunnika Abosede Olabode, this is your vision made real. We are proud. 💪🏾

Today is Children's Day.

Somewhere in Nigeria, a mother woke up this morning and could not say Happy Children's Day to her child.

Not because she forgot. Not because they are far apart. But because for 12 days now, she does not know if her child is eating. She does not know if her child is sleeping. She does not know if her child is alive.

12 days in one uniform. 12 days without a bath. 12 days without a mother's voice at night. 12 days without school, without laughter, without the ordinary things children should never have to live without.

While we were designing flyers and writing captions, some children woke up today on a cold floor, in fear, wearing the same clothes they had on the day someone took them.

Think about that for a moment.

A child who should be running around today, eating jollof rice, wearing a new dress, hearing "happy children's day my baby" is instead counting days in captivity. Wondering if anyone is coming. Wondering if they have been forgotten.

They have not been forgotten.

We see them. We are saying their names even when we do not know their names. We are holding their families in our hearts even when we cannot hold them in our arms.

To the children still out there:

You are not forgotten. Adults are fighting for you. Nigeria has not moved on. Your mothers have not slept. Your fathers have not eaten. Your teachers are crying. Your classmates left a space for you.

Come home. Please come home.

And to everyone reading this on a day meant to celebrate children: let today not just be about the children in front of us. Let it be about the ones we cannot see. Let it be loud. Let it be angry. Let it demand that this stops.

No child should spend Children's Day in captivity.

Not one.

Not ever.

Free our children. 🕯️