In Nigeria, students would never get away with shenanigans

I LOOKED on with bemusement as an attractive girl passed a note to a boy in the first row. Some trite vulgarities were exchanged, my more restive classmates started singing and the teacher was all but completely ignored.
	Welcome to the civics course at Northwestern High School in Hyattsville, Md., a suburb of Washington. Though the scene would seem commonplace to American students, as a recent immigrant raised in a poor village in Nigeria, I was shocked.
	Such behavior would never be tolerated in my Nigerian school. There, students who came in after the first bell for class faced corporal punishment or some form of detention. Detained students usually were assigned menial tasks: cutting the school lawn (by hand, with long blades), or cleaning the latrine (which had no plumbing). Consequently, being tardy or absent from class was a rare exception.
	The academic discipline in Nigeria also was much more rigorous than in America, where students were constantly praised for not being tardy for class or for not utterly failing their courses.
	In some of my advanced grade-level classes at my U.S. school, the atmosphere appeared more rehabilitative than educational; grades of "A" and "B" were the norm. In Nigeria, by contrast, a "C" was often a welcome mark even for a very good student. The level of instruction in the classroom was relatively high and formal; usually the teacher lectured and students took notes quietly and asked questions later.
	My friends and I had to walk - barefoot, usually - two to three miles to our Nigerian school. My elementary school did not provide textbooks, and there were no libraries, electricity or running water. Nevertheless, many of the poor peasant farmers managed to scrape up whatever was needed for books and uniforms for their children. Ire the midst of such hardship, learning and achievement were not compromised.
	How was this possible? It seems to me there are very different cultural pressures shaping Nigerian youth than are guiding their American counterparts.
	Throughout the academic lives of Nigerian students, they are challenged by extended families and peers - to work hard and succeed. The belief that without a good education one's prospects in life are fairly limited prevails in most Nigerian families, regardless of their social backgrounds.
	Many social critics in the United States point to inadequate funding, poor faculty, and facilities, and the socio-economic conditions of urban areas as reasons for the decline of American schools.
	However, compared with my Nigerian experience, my American school was fabulously rich, had a much more educated faculty and incomparably better facilities. And though America's urban areas may spawn other intellectually debilitating influences, they are a far cry from the poverty that characterizes the Nigerian countryside.
	So why are so many U.S. schools considered such academic failures? I believe the answer is cultural, not financial.
	Vulgar and obscene talk, gym period and lunch breaks as open sessions for aggressive sexual conduct, pregnant teenagers in at least two of my classes, a new single mother in another - none of these stories surprises an American. But for the Nigerian, they are nothing short of scandalous.
	The reason Nigerian schools are relatively calm and orderly places where learning can and does take place is not because schools crack down on unruly behavior or academic apathy. It's because Nigerian families do.
	My Nigerian experience makes one fact inescapable: The decline in America's public schools is tied directly to the decline of the American family. This decline affects a very important aspect of academic achievement that transcends government policy or economic circumstance: the moral and social aptitude of the citizenry.
	At my school in the Washington suburbs, most of the teachers appeared eager to help with my homework and career plans. The school library was well stocked and accessible, and there were plenty of sporting facilities. What I found lacking was an atmosphere among students - reinforced by family-that was congenial to academic excellence and social growth. Few of my American peers had been instilled with any appreciation for real learning.
	Don't misunderstand me - I love America. The freedom, tolerance, and respect of differences that are a part of everyday public life are some of the first things a visitor to America notices. But I also saw a public school system disconnected from society's most important institution - the family.
	In Nigeria, with all its political and social problems, the family remains strong. So being, it helps define the social and economic expectations of the nation.
	Can the hopes and dreams of Americans afford to be any less lofty than those of Nigerians?

This essay is adapted from an article In the Fall 1993 issue of Policy Review. Jide Nzelibe is now a graduate student at the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs at 
Princeton University.