Are we ready for life after school?
“And honestly, I am scared. I am scared of a life where I will no longer casually call my mother or father and say, ‘Mummy, I need some money,’ or ‘Daddy, please send me something,” Writes John Bisaso
Are we ready for life after school?
________________
OPINION
By John Bisaso
On October 25, our school chaplain asked us a question that has refused to leave my mind: “Senior Six candidates, are you ready for life after school?”
At first, I thought it was just another question from an adult preparing us for the usual speech about discipline, hard work and responsibility. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that perhaps we are not as ready as we pretend to be.
For years, we have been told to study hard, pass our examinations and work towards a bright future. We have woken up early, attended classes, sat for tests and sacrificed our time in the hope that one day, all our efforts will pay off. Our parents have struggled to pay school fees, buy our necessities and provide us with pocket money, sometimes at the expense of their own comfort. Our teachers have guided us, and our chaplains have prayed for us.
Now, that chapter of our lives is slowly coming to an end. Soon, we shall remove our school uniforms for the last time, say goodbye to our teachers and classmates, and walk through those school gates into a world we have heard so much about but hardly understand.
And honestly, I am scared.
I am scared of a life where I will no longer casually call my mother or father and say, “Mummy, I need some money,” or “Daddy, please send me something.” I am scared of the day I will have to look at my parents, who have done so much for me, and realise that they may no longer be able to provide everything I need. Not because they do not love me, but because I am growing up, and life is demanding that I learn to stand on my own feet.
What happens when the money runs out before the month ends? What happens when I need something urgently but have nobody to turn to? What happens when I complete university, or even fail to get the opportunity to join one, and discover that the world does not have a place waiting for me simply because I have a certificate?
These are questions that keep many of us awake, even when we smile during the day.
We have been told that education is the key to success. We have believed it, and many of us have held onto that belief through difficult nights of revision and examination pressure.
It makes me wonder; In a world where connections sometimes matter more than qualifications, where does that leave a young person whose only connection is a hardworking parent who has no powerful friends?
Must a young person have an uncle in a big office, a wealthy relative or someone influential to get a fair chance? Does hard work still matter when doors appear to open more easily for those who already know the right people?
I do not write this to condemn everyone who has connections. I understand that networking and relationships can create opportunities. My concern is that talent, honesty and hard work should not be pushed aside simply because someone does not have the right surname or a powerful person to make a phone call on their behalf.
Beyond the fear of unemployment, there is also the fear of disappointing the very people who have sacrificed so much for us. Some of our parents have sold land, borrowed money and gone without basic necessities just to keep us in school. Some have hidden their tears so that we could concentrate on our books. They have looked at us with hope, believing that one day we shall become the answer to some of the problems they have faced.
What happens if the journey takes longer than they expected? What if we try and fail? What if we need years to find our footing while our parents grow older and their strength begins to fade?
The thought of returning home with nothing but stories of rejection is painful. Sometimes, I fear that the greatest burden awaiting us is not poverty itself, but the shame of feeling that we have failed the people who believed in us.
Yet, perhaps the greatest mistake we can make is to believe that finishing school means we must immediately have life figured out. Maybe growing up means accepting that we will make mistakes, face disappointments, change direction and sometimes begin again. Perhaps success is not always about how quickly we arrive, but whether we keep moving despite the obstacles.
Still, I believe that telling young people to work hard is not enough. We need more than motivational speeches. We need practical guidance on financial management, entrepreneurship, career choices, emotional resilience and how to navigate a competitive world. We need to understand that life may not follow the straight path we imagined while sitting in our classrooms.
Our schools should prepare us not only to pass examinations but also to face rejection, manage money, identify opportunities and make responsible decisions. Our parents should continue guiding us, even as they gradually allow us to become independent. Employers should give young people opportunities to demonstrate their abilities, and our leaders should work towards a society where employment and advancement are not reserved for those with connections.
Most importantly, we young people must learn to create opportunities where possible, build genuine relationships, develop useful skills and remain willing to learn. We must understand that independence does not mean refusing help; it means gradually learning to take responsibility for our lives.
As I reflect on the chaplain’s question, I realise that perhaps none of us is completely ready. We may have the grades, the dreams and the ambition, but many of us are still trying to understand the world we are about to enter.
Ready to work hard in a world that may not reward us immediately? Ready to face rejection without losing hope? Ready to watch our parents struggle while we search for our own way? Ready to discover that adulthood comes with bills, responsibilities, difficult choices and silent battles that nobody prepares you for?
Perhaps we are ready to try, but not necessarily ready for everything that awaits us.
As an S.6 student approaching the end of this journey, I am not asking for a guarantee that life will be easy. I am asking for a fair chance. I am asking for a society that does not make young people feel useless because they have not succeeded immediately after school. I am asking for a world where a young person’s future is determined by more than family wealth, personal connections or the ability to pay their way through closed doors.
And to my fellow candidates, I want to say this: it is okay to be afraid. We can be grateful for the education we have received and still be uncertain about tomorrow. We can be ambitious and still have moments when we wonder whether our dreams are realistic. Fear does not mean we are weak; sometimes, it simply means we understand the weight of the journey ahead.
To our parents, thank you for carrying us this far. We may soon stop asking you for pocket money, but we will still need your wisdom, encouragement and prayers. We hope to become people you can be proud of, even if our success takes longer than expected.
And to our chaplain, thank you for asking a question that seemed simple but opened a door to so many fears and reflections. Perhaps the question was never meant to make us feel ready. Perhaps it was meant to make us think deeply about the kind of people we must become.
As we prepare to leave the familiar walls of our school, I hope we remember that our results will be important, but they will not tell our entire story. Our first job will not define our worth, our failures will not erase our potential, and the time it takes us to succeed should not be used to measure our value as human beings.
We are not merely students finishing high school. We are young people standing at the edge of an uncertain future, carrying our parents’ sacrifices, our own dreams and questions we are still afraid to ask aloud.
So, are we ready for life after school?
Perhaps not completely. But we are willing to learn, willing to try and hopeful that the world will give us a fair chance.
And sometimes, that is where courage begins?
The writer is a Senior Six finalist of Pope John Paul II High School in Nakaseke district