One curriculum, many realities

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OPINION

By Christabel Ruganzu

The morning bell rang in two different places at the same time.

In a brightly painted classroom in Kampala, Daniel zipped his tablet into his backpack, grabbed his science file, and headed to the computer lab. His school had recently installed a solar-powered ICT centre, and today they were learning how to create digital presentations about clean energy solutions. His classmates chatted excitedly as they walked through the wide corridors lined with colourful posters and motivational quotes.

Three hundred kilometres away, in a quiet village near Moroto, Achen adjusted her worn-out school uniform and picked up a chalk slate from the corner of her classroom. Her school had no paint, no posters, no laboratory—just four cracked mud walls, a leaking iron sheet roof, and uneven dirt floors. Her teacher, Mr Lokwii, had scribbled a project assignment on the blackboard with broken chalk: “Find ways your community can conserve water.”

Both Daniel and Achen are students under Uganda’s new lower secondary curriculum, introduced in 2020. It was designed to transform education across the country, moving away from rote/memorisation towards a competency-based system. The goal was clear: build critical thinking, creativity, problem-solving, communication, and collaboration skills to prepare learners for the real world. Teachers were encouraged to assign projects, group work, and hands-on activities instead of relying on lectures and notes.

In theory, it is a curriculum that promises equal access to quality education for all students, regardless of their background. But in practice, the realities of Daniel and Achen’s worlds could not have been more different.

In Kampala, Daniel’s school buzzed with energy. His science teacher guided the class through the clean energy project, showing them how to use online databases to research solar panels and hydro-electric systems. Daniel had access to high-speed internet, digital textbooks, and interactive learning platforms.

His group recorded interviews with engineers from a nearby solar farm, edited video clips on school computers, and uploaded their findings onto the school’s online learning portal. The project felt alive, exciting and full of possibilities.

Daniel loved this new way of learning. He felt empowered to explore, to ask questions, to experiment. "I feel like I’m already doing the kind of work I want to do in the future," he told his friends proudly.

Back in Moroto, Achen sat cross-legged in the dirt, sketching ideas with a stick. Her class had no textbooks, no internet, and no science equipment. For her project, she interviewed her grandmother, who taught her traditional ways of storing rainwater in clay pots. Achen carefully drew the designs in a battered exercise book. She wanted to create a simple rainwater harvesting system for their school, but lacked the materials to build a model.

"We can collect water from the roof when it rains," she suggested shyly to Mr Lokwii. He smiled warmly but looked worried. "That is a good idea, Achen. But we don’t have gutters, or pipes, or a tank. Maybe you can just draw it."

Achen nodded, hiding her disappointment. She had hoped to build something real, something useful. But without resources, all she could offer was a drawing.

The new curriculum was meant to give every child a chance to succeed, but the divide between Daniel’s and Achen’s learning environments was glaring.

The curriculum requires students to do research, collaborate on projects, present findings using technology, and apply knowledge to solve community problems. But it assumed that every school had access to the necessary resources: trained teachers, internet, science labs, computers, libraries, and other learning materials.

Daniel’s school had all those things, while Achen’s school had almost none.

When the time came for students across the country to present their projects, Daniel stood confidently in front of his classmates, clicking through a polished PowerPoint presentation filled with images, charts, and video interviews. His group earned top marks and was invited to present at a district science fair.

Achen stood nervously in her dim classroom, holding up her hand-drawn poster of the rainwater harvesting system. Her classmates clapped politely while Mr Lokwii praised her creativity. However, her project couldn’t compete at the regional level, where other schools showcased models made from 3D printers and digital prototypes.

"You worked very hard," Mr Lokwii reassured her. "It’s not your fault. We just don’t have the things the other schools have."

Achen swallowed her frustration. She had done everything the curriculum asked of her. She had researched, planned, designed, and presented, but it wasn’t competitive enough; not because she lacked talent, but because she lacked tools.

The new curriculum was built on a beautiful idea: that all children deserve equal opportunities to learn, explore, and innovate. However, in reality, it had become a curriculum of two worlds: one for students like Daniel, who had access to resources, and another for students like Achen, who had only their imagination and determination.

Daniel’s school fully embraced the curriculum. Teachers attended regular workshops, learning how to facilitate inquiry-based learning and integrate technology. Students thrived in group discussions, debates, experiments, and community projects.

Achen’s school struggled. Mr Lokwii had received a single week of training when the curriculum was introduced, but little follow-up support. He tried his best, improvising lessons, using local materials and encouraging creativity. However, without basic infrastructure—no library, no lab, no internet—the curriculum’s demands felt like an impossible dream.

The grading system only favoured Daniel’s world. Assessment under the new curriculum requires portfolios, digital presentations, peer reviews, and teacher observations of practical activities. Schools without cameras, printers, or digital storage cannot compile the evidence required.

Daniel submitted a portfolio with printed photos of his group’s experiments, screenshots of their online research, and copies of their presentation slides. Achen’s portfolio consisted of hand-written notes, pencil drawings, and a few photographs Mr Lokwii took with his old mobile phone.

Both students had worked hard, but their work was measured against the same standard, despite the vast inequality in their circumstances.

The curriculum’s purpose is noble: to prepare students for the 21st century, to close the gap between education and the job market and to make learning practical and relevant. However, by ignoring the unequal access to resources, it risked widening the very gaps it aimed to close.

Daniel’s future felt open and full of promise. His school had partnerships with universities, tech hubs, and NGOs. He dreamed of becoming an engineer, working on renewable energy projects across Africa.

Achen’s future felt uncertain. She dreamed of becoming a teacher, helping her community find solutions to water scarcity, but she worried that she wouldn’t qualify for higher education. Without access to the same learning tools, her performance couldn’t match students from better-resourced schools.

"Why is it so hard for us?" she asked her grandmother one evening. "We study the same things. But we don’t have the things they have."

Her grandmother sighed, placing a gentle hand on Achen’s shoulder. "Education is like farming, child. If you have good soil, rain, and tools, you can grow many crops. But if the land is dry and your tools are few, you must work twice as hard, and still the harvest is small, but never stop planting. One day the rains will come."

Achen held onto those words, but deep down, she wondered: how many children like her would be left behind before the rains came?

The curriculum of two worlds cannot continue if Uganda is serious about equal access to education. Equal access isn’t just about sitting in a classroom or following the same syllabus. It’s about having the resources, support, and opportunities to succeed.

To bridge the gap, investment is needed in rural schools: electricity, internet, science labs, libraries, training for teachers, and digital devices. Policies must recognise the different starting points of each school and provide tailored support. Assessments must account for contextual challenges, offering fairer ways to evaluate learning.

Until then, the promise of the new curriculum will remain just that—a promise, unrealised for millions of children like Achen.

A curriculum built on equal access must go beyond ideals. It must be grounded in action, ensuring that every child, in every corner of Uganda, has the tools to learn, grow, and dream.

Education should not be a matter of geography; it should be a matter of justice.

The writer is a year 10 Taibah International School student