Tiny Desks, Big Dreams: The Unspoken Struggles of KG Kids in Bono
A few months ago, I visited a friend in a small community just outside Sunyani. It was one of those random trips where you expect to just eat ampesi, chat, and maybe nap under a mango tree. But instead, I found myself sitting in a KG classroom—if you could even call it that—staring at four-year-olds scribbling with broken crayons on scraps of paper. No furniture. No real books. Just cement floors, bare walls, and tiny voices trying to recite the alphabet in unison.
Honestly, I wasn’t ready for what I saw. And I haven’t been able to forget it since.
Now here’s the thing—I’ve always known that kindergarten education isn’t exactly perfect in Ghana. But I guess I assumed that at least the basics were being handled. You know, a proper classroom, trained teachers, maybe a few storybooks and puzzles. But what I saw in Bono shook that assumption to the core.
These kids are literally starting their education journey in survival mode. Some sit on stones or mats brought from home. Others share a single book between five people. There's no colourful learning materials, no toys, no pictures on the walls. It’s just a room and a prayer.
And in my opinion—and I know I might sound dramatic here—but we’re failing them.
Kindergarten is supposed to be magical. It’s where kids learn to love learning. Where they first hold a pencil. Where their curiosity is supposed to bloom. But in some schools in Bono, it feels more like a holding place until they’re old enough for “serious†education. And that’s not just sad—it’s dangerous.
I’ve noticed we often praise education policies when they're flashy—free SHS, STEM projects, shiny tablets. But when it comes to the early years, it’s like we forget those kids exist. We forget that every JHS student once sat in a KG classroom, playing with bottle caps or singing “A is for Apple†off-key.
And let’s talk about the teachers. Some of them are doing absolute miracles with what little they have. I met one who had created flashcards from old cement paper. Another had turned bottle tops into counting tools. These people are trying—but how long can you improvise before you burn out?
I may be wrong, but I feel like we’ve normalized the struggle. We’ve accepted that rural KGs will be under-resourced and that kids in Bono and other regions just have to "manage." But should they really have to?
Because here's what I keep thinking about—imagine the potential we’re wasting. The future nurse who drops out because she never learned to read properly. The next innovator who never gets the chance to dream because his KG class was just a dusty room with no windows.
All because we didn’t give them a good start.
And you know what’s wild? It wouldn’t even take that much. Some decent furniture, a few books, trained teachers who are paid on time. Not iPads. Not fancy tech. Just the basics.
So, here’s my quiet question as I sip my overly milky tea this morning:
What kind of nation are we building if we keep planting dreams in dry soil—and then act surprised when nothing grows?