When Dreams Return to the Classroom

Stories of second chances and new beginnings for girls in Adamawa through Centre LSD's C-CAGE Project

By Monday Osasah

There is something particularly painful about a child who wants to go to school but cannot.

Not because she lacks the ability to learn. Not because she has stopped dreaming. But because poverty has entered the home. Because a parent has died. Because insurgency has shattered a family. Because pregnancy has interrupted adolescence. Or simply because, when a struggling family must decide who goes to school, the boy is chosen, and the girl is asked to stay behind.

For many girls in Adamawa State, these are not hypothetical situations. They are lived experiences.

Behind the statistics of out-of-school children are girls with names, families, ambitions, and dreams. Girls who wanted to become nurses, teachers, lawyers, and professionals. Girls whose journeys to the classroom were interrupted by circumstances they did not create.

But some dreams refuse to die.

Sometimes, they only wait for another opportunity.

And when that opportunity comes, dreams return to the classroom.

That is the story of the Community-Led Collective Action for Girl-Child Education (C-CAGE) Project, implemented by the African Centre for Leadership, Strategy & Development (Centre LSD), with support from the Malala Fund, in Numan, Song and Maiha Local Government Areas of Adamawa State.

But more importantly, it is the story of Margaret, Aisha, Rachel, Silvia, Abigail, Ruth, Yoila and Damnzasouno. It is also the story of Blessing, Agnes, Peace and Hasiya, girls who faced circumstances that could have ended their education but found another opportunity to learn, progress and dream again.

When Poverty Chooses the Boys

Margaret Benson knows what it means for circumstances to decide on behalf of a child.

Her father was killed during the Boko Haram insurgency. She was the last child and only daughter of her parents. Suddenly, her mother was left with the difficult responsibility of raising and educating the children.

There was not enough money for everyone.

A choice had to be made.

The boys would continue their education. Margaret would stay at home.

There was nothing unusual about the decision within the context in which the family found itself. Across many communities, when resources become scarce, the education of the girl child can become expendable.

But what happens to the dream of the girl left behind?

For Margaret, an answer came in 2019 when Centre LSD commenced the C-CAGE intervention in Adamawa. She became the first girl registered under the project in Maiha Local Government Area.

That opportunity changed the trajectory of her life.

The girl who once stayed at home while her brothers went to school eventually completed her secondary education and proceeded to the School of Health in Mubi. In 2025, she graduated.

Imagine for a moment what might have happened if that second chance had not come.

That is why the story of girls' education must go beyond enrolment statistics. Sometimes, the distance between a girl staying permanently out of school and becoming a graduate is simply the presence of someone who refuses to accept that her story has ended.

A Project Built Around a Different Question

C-CAGE started from the recognition that the problem of out-of-school girls cannot be solved by merely telling girls to return to school.

The real questions are more difficult.

Why did they leave in the first place?

Who makes the decisions that keep them away?

What happens inside the family? What role does poverty play? What about culture, early marriage, insecurity, sexual harassment, school facilities, and social attitudes towards the value of educating a girl?

And perhaps most importantly: what must change within the community for a girl not only to enter school but to remain there and complete her education?

The project therefore adopted a community-led approach across Numan, Song and Maiha, deliberately covering Adamawa State's three senatorial districts. It sought to confront barriers at the family, school, community and institutional levels rather than treating girls themselves as the problem.

During the Malala Fund-supported phase, 1,451 out-of-school girls were enrolled in secondary schools above the project target of 1,000. Twenty-five Safe Space Peer Learning Centres were established, and 1,072 girls participated in learning, mentorship, psychosocial support, numeracy, and vocational activities. In addition, 275 education stakeholders were trained in community mobilisation and advocacy.

The intervention reached 4,500 girls across three local government areas: 1,946 in Numan, 1,290 in Song and 1,264 in Maiha. Of these, 957 received school uniforms and learning materials, while school levies were paid for 140. In 2025 alone, 738 girls were newly enrolled across the three areas.

At Pare Girls Secondary School in Numan, the change was dramatic. Before the intervention, only 17 girls were attending the school. Within months, the figure increased to 117.

These are impressive numbers.

But numbers do not cry. Numbers do not dream. Numbers cannot adequately tell us what happens when a girl who thought her education was over puts on a school uniform again.

For that, we must return to the girls.

Aisha's Door Opens Again

Aisha Ahmed's education was interrupted when her father divorced her mother and sent Aisha and her siblings away with her.

Their mother suddenly had children to care for but lacked the resources to keep them in school.

One by one, they dropped out.

It could have remained that way.

Then Nafisa Abdullahi, a C-CAGE Safe Space facilitator, encountered the family and introduced them to the programme. Their mother agreed to allow the children to participate in the Safe Space.

The door opened again.

Aisha returned to school and is expected to graduate from Aliyu Mustapha Academy in Yola in 2026.

Aisha's story reminds us that sometimes development does not begin in a conference hall. It begins when someone enters a community, knocks on a door, sits with a struggling mother, and convinces her that her daughter's education is still worth fighting for.

Rachel's Education Survives Insurgency

Rachel Yusuf is from Pakka in Maiha Local Government Area. Her father was killed by Boko Haram. His death destabilised the family and affected Rachel’s ability to complete secondary school.

Insurgency does not destroy only buildings and communities. It also breaks the routines that keep children in school. It takes away parents, incomes, security and the emotional stability young people need to continue learning.

For Rachel, the consequences were immediate. Her journey through secondary school was disrupted.

Through the Malala Fund-supported C-CAGE intervention, however, she returned to school and resumed the education that violence had interrupted. She was expected to complete her studies at Government Secondary School, Mubi.

Rachel’s story reflects the hidden educational cost of violent conflict. It also shows that rebuilding after insurgency must involve more than reconstructing physical infrastructure. It must include restoring the futures of children whose education was interrupted.

The Safe Spaces Where Girls Began Again

The 25 Safe Space Peer Learning Centres became much more than meeting points.

They became places of possibility.

Girls received mentorship and psychosocial support. They learnt English literacy, numeracy, leadership, negotiation, resilience, education advocacy, and awareness about gender-based violence. They discussed the obstacles confronting them and learnt strategies for navigating those barriers.

But Centre LSD also recognised an uncomfortable reality: you cannot preach education to a hungry child and ignore the economics of her household.

Poverty was one of the forces driving girls out of school.

The Safe Spaces therefore incorporated entrepreneurship and vocational skills. Girls learnt how to produce liquid soap, air freshener, petroleum jelly, buns, doughnuts and other marketable products. They also learnt branding, packaging and market readiness.

The intention was simple: give girls practical skills that could help them earn income, reduce their vulnerability and support their education.

For Ruth Solomon, that combination of education and economic empowerment became transformative.

From House Help to the Classroom

Ruth came from Koma Hills to Numan as a house help.

That description alone tells a story.

A young girl leaves her community not primarily to pursue her own dreams but to work in another person's household.

Through C-CAGE, Ruth was enrolled in school.

At the Safe Space, she learnt how to make doughnuts and kunu. She began using those skills to earn money. Remarkably, the girl who had come to Numan as a house help began sending money home to support her parents and siblings.

Then she went further.

In November 2024, Ruth rented farmland for dry-season farming. She cultivated the land until her first harvest at the end of March 2025.

The transformation is difficult to miss.

Ruth was no longer simply a vulnerable girl requiring assistance. She was becoming a student, entrepreneur, farmer, and contributor to her family's livelihood.

That is the difference between giving someone temporary help and expanding her capacity to shape her own future.

When Motherhood Interrupts a Dream

For Yoila Jael of Imburu in Numan Local Government Area, pregnancy interrupted her education.

She dropped out of school.

For many girls, teenage pregnancy becomes a full stop placed prematurely at the end of an educational journey.

Society often remembers the pregnancy and forgets the dream that existed before it.

Yoila got another opportunity.

When C-CAGE commenced in 2019, she joined the Safe Space. Through her facilitator, she learnt how to make pastries and began producing them for sale.

The small business helped create a pathway back to school.

Yoila completed her secondary education and proceeded to Adamawa State Polytechnic, where she studied disaster management.

And there is something beautiful about why she chose that course.

Her community, Imburu, is prone to flooding. Yoila wanted knowledge that could help her contribute to addressing a recurring problem confronting her people.

She eventually graduated.

A girl who dropped out after becoming a mother had become a graduate, thinking about how to help her community manage disasters.

Sometimes, the best response to a second chance is what a person does with it.

Silvia Would Not Let Two Lost Years Become a Lost Future

Silvia Gelli's education stopped after primary school.

For two years, she remained at home.

Two years is a long time in the life of a young girl. Long enough to begin believing that perhaps school belongs to the past. Long enough for circumstances to redefine what she thinks is possible.

In December 2018, Silvia returned to her mother in the Murke community. She was subsequently encouraged to join the Safe Space and did so in 2019.

After four months, something had changed.

She wanted to return to school.

There was still a problem: her mother could not afford it.

So mother and daughter went to the farm.

They cultivated groundnuts. They harvested. They sold what they produced.

And from the proceeds of that harvest, Silvia returned to the classroom.

Her performance impressed the school authorities. She progressed through secondary education, completed WAEC and NECO in 2022, and proceeded to Adamawa State Polytechnic to study International Relations and Strategic Studies. The project account records that she later worked with a real-estate company and started a food production business.

“Thank you, Malala, thank you Centre LSD for restoring my hopes.”

There are sentences that summarise entire development reports.

That is one of them.

Abigail Lost Almost Everything—Except the Courage to Begin Again

Perhaps one of the most moving stories from the C-CAGE intervention is that of Abigail Markus.

Her parents were poor farmers, but they made sacrifices to educate her.

Then, in 2018, while in SS2, Abigail became pregnant.

She married the young man responsible for the pregnancy and moved into his family home. After the birth of their child, her husband travelled to Lagos in search of greener pastures.

He left Abigail and their seven-month-old baby behind.

She waited.

He did not return.

Then the child became sick.

There was not enough money to get adequate medical care. The child died.

Her husband still did not return.

Eventually, Abigail went back to her parents.

No husband, no child, no completed education, and no skills.

For many people, that could have been the end.

But endings sometimes become beginnings.

A Safe Space facilitator heard that Abigail had returned home and visited her.

In August 2020, Abigail joined the Safe Space.

There, she learnt to read and write. She also acquired livelihood skills and began selling cooked yam. She started making a small profit.

From her savings, she bought a school uniform, shoes and books.

In September 2021, Abigail returned to school.

And then came the dream.

She wanted to become a lawyer.

Why?

So that she could understand her rights, defend herself and help other women and girls who may find themselves similarly vulnerable.

Think about that for a moment.

A young woman whose life had been shaped repeatedly by circumstances beyond her control now wanted an education that would help her understand and defend her rights and the rights of others.

That is not merely a return to school.

It is the recovery of agency.

It Takes More Than a Girl to Keep a Girl in School

One lesson runs through the C-CAGE experience: girls cannot be expected to dismantle alone the barriers that keep them out of school.

The family must change.

The community must change.

Traditional institutions must become allies.

Schools must respond.

Government must play its role.

This was why Centre LSD Education Committees went from household to household, engaging parents and guardians. They worked with traditional and community leaders, advocated increased enrolment, and followed up with girls to reduce absenteeism and dropout.

Traditional rulers became part of the campaign.

Wakilian Boi Mairo Adamu Dalagana, a female traditional ruler from Boi District, personally sponsored girls to attend school and worked with other female traditional leaders to encourage families to educate their daughters.

In Song, Wakili Song, Alhaji Ibrahim Sa'ad, deployed town criers to sensitise parents and communities and used his traditional position to engage community and village heads.

The public campaign also contributed to some Sangaya schools in Song, which had previously focused on Qur'anic instruction, introducing Mathematics and English into their curriculum.

This is what community-led development means.

It is not development done to communities.

It is development increasingly owned by communities.

When Advocacy Becomes Bricks and Mortar

There is another important lesson.

Advocacy must eventually produce something people can see and feel.

At Pare Girls Secondary School, persistent engagement with Hon. Kwamoti Bitrus Laori, who represented Numan, Demsa and Lamurde in the House of Representatives, resulted in support for improved infrastructure.

A two-classroom block and office were constructed and furnished. Other infrastructure support, including toilets, was also recorded, while engagement continued with the Adamawa State Universal Basic Education Board over additional school needs.

The Girl from Kikan

Then there is Damnzasouno Pwadivono.

She came from Kikan village in Numan and was an orphan living with her grandmother.

When the Centre LSD Education Committee conducted an outreach in Kikan, members spoke with her grandmother and encouraged her to allow Damnzasouno to join the Safe Space.

There she learnt how to make liquid soap.

But she did not keep the knowledge to herself.

She taught her aunt and grandmother.

The family began using the skill to sustain itself.

And Damnzasouno was enrolled at Pare Girls Secondary School.

A single intervention had touched three generations.

The grandmother gave permission.

The girl acquired a skill.

The girl transferred the skill back to the family.

The household gained another livelihood opportunity.

And the girl returned to school.

This is how change multiplies.

From Safe Spaces to Higher Institutions

By 2026, some of the girls who had once faced uncertain educational futures were moving beyond secondary school.

52 girls had progressed to higher institutions. In 2025 alone, 122 girls sat for the Senior Secondary Certificate Examination, bringing the reported cumulative number who had written the examination since project inception to 447.

These figures matter because completion matters.

Getting a girl into school is one achievement.

Keeping her there is another.

Helping her complete secondary education is another.

Seeing her enter a tertiary institution is yet another.

The journey from exclusion to opportunity is rarely accomplished in one leap.

It happens one step at a time.

More Journeys Into Higher Education

More girls returned to school, completed secondary education, and progressed to tertiary institutions.

Blessing Yakubu proceeded to the College of Health Technology in Mubi. Agnes Philimon enrolled at the Federal College of Education, Yola. Peace Hamza gained admission to Naffan School of Health and Technology in Jambutu, Yola. Hasiya Aji enrolled at Adamawa State Polytechnic in Yola.

Each admission represents the continuation of an educational journey that could easily have ended much earlier.

Their progress shows that returning a girl to secondary school is only the beginning. The larger goal is to help her remain, complete her education, and cross into the professional and economic opportunities that further learning can provide.

What Happens When the Donor Leaves?

Every development intervention eventually confronts one uncomfortable question:

What happens when the funding ends?

Projects can produce beautiful reports, impressive photographs and compelling statistics while donor resources are available. The more difficult test is whether the work survives beyond the grant.

After the main C-CAGE project phase ended, Centre LSD, Education Committees, Safe Space facilitators and local stakeholders continued aspects of the intervention despite the absence of external donor funding.

Advocacy continued.

Safe Spaces continued.

Community engagement continued.

Girls continued to receive support.

That may ultimately be one of C-CAGE's most important achievements.

Because sustainability does not begin when another donor arrives.

It begins when communities stop asking, “What will the project do for us?” and start asking, “How do we ensure that what has started does not stop?”

When Dreams Return

The C-CAGE story can easily be reduced to statistics.

Twenty-five Safe Spaces.

Hundreds of girls sitting for examinations.

Dozens progressing to higher education.

Hundreds receiving scholastic support.

Thousands reached through enrolment and community mobilisation.

But that would miss the heart of the story.

C-CAGE is Margaret Benson watching her brothers go to school because there was no money to educate everyone, and later graduating from a health institution.

It is Aisha Ahmed returning to school after her parents' separation disrupted her education.

It is Rachel Yusuf resuming the education that insurgency interrupted after the death of her father.

It is Ruth Solomon arriving in Numan as a house help and becoming a student, entrepreneur, and farmer.

It is Yoila Jael moving from dropping out after pregnancy to graduating in disaster management.

It is Silvia Gelli and her mother farming groundnuts because they refused to allow poverty to have the final word on her education.

It is Damnzasouno teaching her grandmother and aunt how to make liquid soap while finding her own way back into the classroom.

It is Blessing Yakubu, Agnes Philimon, Peace Hamza and Hasiya Aji crossing from secondary education into colleges, health institutions and a polytechnic.

And it is Abigail Markus, after pregnancy, abandonment, and the devastating loss of her child, buying another school uniform and daring to dream of becoming a lawyer.

These girls did not return to school empty-handed.

They returned carrying experiences that no child should have had to carry so early.

But they also returned with courage.

They returned with resilience.

They returned with possibilities.

Perhaps that is the biggest lesson from Adamawa.

When a girl leaves school, society does not merely lose a student. It risks losing everything that girl might have become: a teacher, health worker, lawyer, entrepreneur, public servant, community leader, or mother better positioned to educate another generation.

But when she finds her way back, something powerful happens.

A classroom receives more than another student.

A family begins to see possibilities differently.

A community begins to question old assumptions.

And a girl who had been told by circumstances that her dream must wait discovers that her story is not over.