By Babafemi Ojudu —

In 1973, I sat for the entrance examination into Christ School, Ado Ekiti.

Like thousands of Ekiti children of my generation, attending Christ School was a dream.

It was the gold standard of secondary education. It was the school every ambitious child wanted to attend and every parent prayed their child would enter.

When the results were released, my name was missing from the admission list. Many of my classmates and close friends from Emmanuel Primary School made it. I did not.

When the news reached my mother, she was inconsolable. She wept and wept. Looking back now, I understand her pain.

Christ School was not the only secondary school available at the time. Yet, in her mind, and indeed in the minds of many Ekiti parents of that era, Christ School represented the surest path to excellence.

Almost every accomplished man or woman they knew had passed through its gates. To them, admission into Christ School was not merely admission into a school; it was admission into a tradition of achievement.

That was the stature of Christ School.
The school has rendered immeasurable service to Ekiti, Yorubaland, Nigeria, and indeed humanity.

When people describe Ekiti as the Fountain of Knowledge, when they speak of our disproportionate contribution to scholarship, public service, administration, medicine, law, engineering, and the professions, they are speaking, in no small measure, of the impact of institutions like Christ School.

Founded in 1933, the same year my father was born, Christ School grew from a mission institution into a legend. It became a symbol of academic excellence, discipline, moral instruction, and character formation.

Whether one attended the school or not, every Ekiti person grew up respecting and admiring it.

That is why the reports now reaching me are deeply troubling. The school was originally established by the Anglican Church. It was later taken over by the government, which managed it for several decades.

A few years ago, it was returned to its original owners. What followed, we are told, has been difficult. In an effort to sustain the institution, tuition fees reportedly rose beyond the reach of many families within its traditional catchment area.

Parents began seeking alternatives. Student enrolment declined. We are now told that some classes in the junior section have little or no students and that parts of the female section have become deserted.

When I first heard this, I could hardly believe it. Impossible, I said.
I immediately called some friends who are alumni of the school. Sadly, they confirmed that the situation was not entirely exaggerated.

And I said to myself: Aigbodo! This must not happen. For Christ School is too valuable to be lost.

Some institutions transcend brick and mortar. They become repositories of collective memory.

They become symbols of a people’s aspirations. They become factories where values, excellence, and leadership are produced, generation after generation.

When such institutions decline, society loses more than buildings. It loses heritage. It loses culture. It loses a tested mechanism for producing the kind of citizens needed to sustain civilization.

Around the world, great societies understand this. They protect their historic schools, universities, museums, libraries, and cultural institutions.

They know that nations are not built merely by roads and bridges; they are built by institutions that transmit values, knowledge, and excellence from one generation to another.

Christ School is one such institution.
My late father-in-law, Chief Daniel Olajide Adebiyi, spoke of the school with reverence. Whenever I sat with him, when he was alive, he would recount stories of his days there.

It was Christ School that prepared him for the scholarship that eventually took him to the London School of Economics, where he graduated in 1957.

He would tell stories of young boys travelling long distances, carrying their belongings on their heads, determined to acquire an education.

Those stories were not merely about a school. They were stories of grit, sacrifice, discipline, aspiration, and triumph.

The history of Christ School is the history of generations of Ekiti men and women who believed that education could transform lives.

I do not wish to enter the politics, disagreements, or divisions that may have contributed to the school’s present difficulties.

That is not my purpose.
My appeal is simpler.
To the Anglican Communion.
To the Alumni.
To the Ekiti State Government.
To parents.
To corporate bodies.
To every son and daughter of Ekiti.
Let us come together and save Christ School.

Let us find a model that preserves excellence while ensuring accessibility. Let us restore its infrastructure, strengthen its academic standards, increase enrolment, and once again make it a destination for the brightest minds.

For if Christ School is allowed to wither, it will not be the Anglican Church alone that loses. It will not be the alumni alone that lose.
Ekiti will lose.
Nigeria will lose.

And future generations will lose a priceless inheritance. Some institutions are too important to fail.
Christ School is one of them.
Christ School must not die.

Babafemi Ojudu is a former Senator of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.