The sun had barely risen over Agbowo when Temitope Adebayo left his one-room apartment, backpack slung across his shoulder. It was a Monday, and his week had already begun the day before.

Between Bodija and Mokola, he would teach at three different private tutorial centres before returning home hours later, sore and drained. For this, he earns ₦25,000 a month. No health insurance. No formal contract. No guarantee the money would come on time.

“Sometimes, you wonder if it’s worth it,” he said, sitting on the wooden bench outside one of the classrooms where he teaches Mathematics and Physics.

“We give our all, but what we get in return is crumbs.”

Ibadan, once known as the intellectual heart of West Africa, is experiencing a surge in private education services especially in the form of WAEC, NECO, and JAMB tutorial centres. Yet, in the shadows of this boom, young private tutors like Temitope are navigating a landscape defined not by opportunity, but by exploitation.

They make millions, we collect tokens

From roadside banners to social media ads, Ibadan  is saturated with promotional content from tutorial centres promising academic breakthroughs, “A1 in 6 Weeks” or “JAMB Success Guaranteed.”

Some register more than 100 students per exam season, charging fees between ₦15,000 and ₦30,000 per student. By simple calculation, one centre could rake in over ₦1.5 million in a few months. Yet, many tutors earn less than ₦20,000 a month.

In an unregulated sector like this, there are no wage standards. Some tutors earn as little as ₦10,000 per month. Others are paid based on student turnout, an unstable metric in a city where parents’ ability to pay fluctuates with market prices.

“They make millions, we collect tokens,” said Kem Oyekanbi, an English tutor who works in Akobo.

When Kemi asked for a raise last year after consistently handling over six classes per week, her request was met with sarcasm. “You’re a woman now, you don’t have house rent to pay,” her employer told her.

This exploitation is the direct byproduct of Nigeria’s broken labour system. For every overworked tutor struggling to survive on ₦20,000 a month, there are hundreds of unemployed graduates outside the gate, ready to take the same job for less.

In a country where over 40% of young people remain unemployed or underemployed, the tutorial industry becomes a trap disguised as opportunity. It promises income, flexibility, and relevance, but mostly delivers burnout, instability, and prolonged poverty.

“We know the centres are making money, but the owners will tell you, if you complain, there are ten others ready to take your spot,” said Seyi, a Chemistry tutor who teaches in both Dugbe and Eleyele.

This surplus of graduates allows tutorial centre owners to dictate terms with near impunity because there will always be someone willing to work, no matter the conditions. Even university graduates with upper-class degrees are being squeezed into tutorial jobs without prospects or protection, and their degrees remain framed and unused.

The state’s failure to create sustainable employment pipelines means the private tutorial has become a pressure valve for economic despair. But it is a faulty valve, one that relieves nothing, only delays collapse.

Every year, thousands more graduate and join the queue. With no public sector jobs, no vibrant private sector, and little access to start-up capital, they turn to whatever is available.

A Failing Pipeline, Not Just a Job

While tutorial centre owners speak of “providing opportunities” to young graduates, what they truly provide is a stopgap—one that traps Nigeria’s educated youths in underemployment.

Oyo State has one of the highest concentrations of tertiary institutions in the country, including the University of Ibadan, The Polytechnic, Lead City University, and Emmanuel Alayande College of Education. Every year, thousands graduate, many of whom remain stranded in the informal labour market.

In 2024, the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) reported that Nigeria’s unemployment rate declined from 5.3% in the first quarter to 4.3% in the second quarter.   However, this national average masks significant disparities.  Youth unemployment remains a pressing issue, with individuals aged 15-24 experiencing the highest rates.  

In Oyo State, the unemployment rate was reported at 2.0% as of September 2024, positioning it as the most employment-friendly state in southern Nigeria.   Despite this, many graduates find themselves in informal employment, such as tutoring, due to the lack of formal job opportunities.

What this means is simple: with no stable job pipelines, tutorial centres have become the default employer for Ibadan’s unemployed graduates. But the work is precarious, unregulated, and deeply exploitative. While tutorial centres may appear to offer a temporary fix for graduate unemployment in Ibadan, some experts argue they are merely masking a much larger crisis.

Dr. Tayo Fashina, an education economist and senior research fellow at the Nigerian Institute of Social and Economic Research (NISER), Ibadan, pointed to the troubling normalisation of this trend.

“Tutorial jobs were never meant to be career paths; they have become that only because there are no viable alternatives for the educated poor,” he explained.

Oyo State has, in recent years, made commendable efforts in reviving public education, most notably through large-scale recruitment of teachers and infrastructural upgrades in primary and secondary schools. These interventions have signalled a renewed commitment to restoring confidence in the public school system. But despite these efforts, the mushrooming of tutorial centres in Ibadan tells a more complicated story.

Many parents still believe public schools are not enough to prepare their children for exams like WAEC or JAMB. So, they pay extra for tutorials. At the same time, for many graduates, the formal teaching sector remains a closed door; the few government jobs available are highly competitive, often requiring political connections or teaching certifications they cannot afford.

This creates two sides of the same education system, one where a few get good jobs in public schools, and another where many are stuck in low-paying, informal teaching roles. Even though the government is trying, the reality is that too many graduates are still being left behind.

Until things change, tutorial centres will keep filling the gap and young educators, caught between a shrinking formal sector and a booming but exploitative informal one, will continue to ask, “What does it mean to be educated in a system that cannot employ its own promise?”