By Benadeta Mwaura - Reporter
Kenya, July 27, 2026 - There was always something magical about the day the school bus arrived.
For weeks beforehand, conversations in class revolved around nothing else. Permission slips passed from one desk to another, teachers reminded us to carry packed lunches, and those lucky enough to afford a photograph, the school hired a photographer to help us bring back memories. The excitement was contagious.
I remember my first educational trip vividly. It was the first time I stepped inside Parliament Buildings. Years later came another unforgettable visit to the Kenyatta International Convention Centre (KICC). Then came drama festivals, music competitions, Scouts camps and mathematics contests that took me to towns I had never imagined visiting.
Growing up, those journeys did far more than take me away from home for a day.
They introduced me to Kenya. They opened my mind to careers I had never heard of. They transformed textbook illustrations into reality.
Long before I became a journalist, those trips taught me that learning was not confined to four classroom walls.
But as I look back today, another memory refuses to disappear. Not every desk in our classroom was empty on trip day.
Some children remained behind.
At the time, we were too young to understand why.
Only years later did I realize that many of those children had simply not been able to afford the trip.
While the rest of us returned excitedly comparing photographs, describing Parliament, museums, wildlife parks or festivals we had attended, they sat quietly, listening to stories they could never tell.
It never occurred to us then that inequality sometimes begins not inside an examination room, but at the point where one child boards the school bus and another watches it disappear through the school gate.
Today, decades later, Kenya finds itself at the centre of one of Africa's most ambitious education reforms.
Competency-Based Curriculum (CBC), now gradually replacing the country's long-standing 8-4-4 system, promises learner-centred education, creativity, practical skills and, above all, equity.
Unlike the previous curriculum, CBC recognizes that children learn differently.
A learner in Turkana should not necessarily be expected to use the same materials as one in Nairobi.
A child in Wajir can complete science projects using locally available resources, just as another in Kisumu or Kiambu would.
The philosophy is simple: learning should reflect the environment in which children live.
It is an idea that education experts across Africa have welcomed.
Yet beneath this promising vision lies a difficult question few people appear willing to ask.
Can foundational learning truly be equal if the experiences that support it depend on how deep a parent's pocket is?
Last week, education policymakers, ministers, researchers and development partners gathered in Lilongwe, Malawi, during the Foundational Learning Exchange (FLEX) 2026, where discussions focused on improving literacy, numeracy and learning outcomes across Africa.
Speaker after speaker emphasized the importance of ensuring every African child acquires foundational skills early enough to succeed later in life.
Dr. Obiageli "Oby" Ezekwesili, founder of Human Capital Africa and one of the continent's most respected education advocates, reminded delegates that Africa had already made bold political commitments.
"Twenty-two African countries signed bold commitments to end learning poverty by 2035," she observed.
But she warned that declarations alone would not change children's lives.
"The critical bridge between our continental policy and actual classrooms... runs through the sub-national levels," she said.
Her words carried profound meaning.
That while policies are written in boardrooms, learning happens in classrooms, yet somewhere between those two spaces, reality often changes.
For decades, governments and development partners have measured foundational learning almost exclusively through literacy and numeracy.
How many Grade Three pupils can read?
How many can solve basic mathematics?
How many achieve minimum proficiency?
These are important indicators.
But they are not the whole story.
Rarely do education reports ask different questions.
How many children have never participated in an educational trip?
How many missed practical assessments because their parents could not afford project materials?
How many silently watch classmates discuss experiences they themselves were excluded from?
How many children begin believing they are less capable simply because poverty denied them participation?
Those statistics rarely appear in national education reports.
Yet they may shape learning just as profoundly as reading scores.
Speaking during the same conference in Malawi, Martha Odundo, Director of Early Childhood Education at Kenya's Ministry of Education, explained how the government has strengthened the country's education support systems.
She emphasized that Kenya's Middle Tier Is Growing Stronger, and the country’s education system has undoubtedly made remarkable progress.
From national headquarters to county governments, sub-county offices and ward administrators, Kenya has expanded what education experts refer to as the "middle tier" the network responsible for supporting teachers and monitoring quality.
‘’Recently, Kenya recruited an additional 1,500 quality assurance officers to improve classroom supervision, while curriculum support officers continue receiving training. The government has increased operational funding to enable education officers to visit schools and digital data collection tools have replaced paper reporting systems.’’ She said
The reforms are significant because they demonstrate political commitment, but perhaps they also expose an important gap.
While quality assurance officers monitor teaching, then who monitors equality?
Who measures whether every child is actually experiencing the curriculum in the same way? And what exactly is the Hidden Cost of Learning?
CBC places enormous emphasis on practical learning. From cooking to planting vegetables, conducting experiments as well as creating artwork.
They undertake projects designed to encourage creativity instead of memorization and many of these activities are excellent because indeed, they represent the very spirit of competency-based education.
The challenge begins when participation quietly acquires a price tag.
Across the country, parents are frequently asked to contribute ingredients for cooking assessments, purchase project materials or provide cash for practical activities associated with national assessments.
For many urban families, these requests may appear manageable.
But Kenya is not only Nairobi. Imagine a parent in Turkana struggling to provide even one meal a day, imagine another in Tana River selling livestock simply to keep children in school.
Imagine households in rural Murang'a paying school fees by selling maize harvested after months of waiting for rain.
Then imagine being asked to contribute additional money for cooking practicals or educational activities.
For some families, KSh200 may seem insignificant, but for others, it determines whether supper will be served that evening.
And perhaps this is where equality quietly begins to fracture, not because the curriculum intended it, but because implementation assumes every family can contribute equally.
The child who cannot participate does not only miss the activity.
They miss the conversation that follows.
Tomorrow, when classmates excitedly discuss what they cooked, where they travelled or what they discovered, another child may simply remain silent.
Not because they lacked curiosity, but because they lacked opportunity.
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The financial burden associated with education does not end with practical assessments.
It extends into one of the most powerful yet often overlooked components of learning, experience.
Educational trips have long been considered an extension of the classroom. The government of Kenya emphasized a lot on these trips and other activities being held in the second term which makes the term the busiest school calendar of the year.
Museums, wildlife parks, historical sites, courts, Parliament, agricultural shows, factories and science exhibitions expose learners to realities that textbooks alone cannot fully explain.
They ignite curiosity, build confidence and often influence career aspirations. They are, in many respects, practical lessons disguised as excursions.
Yet for thousands of Kenyan children, these experiences remain beyond reach.
A teacher from Murang'a County, who requested anonymity, says poverty quietly determines which children participate in many school activities.
"Some of the lower primary learners never go for educational trips," she says. "If they were organised more frequently, I honestly don't think a good number of our pupils would afford them."
The teacher paints a picture that rarely appears in education policy documents.
"Parents here struggle even to buy school uniforms. Sometimes we have to film the children while hiding their faces and ask well-wishers to help us raise money for uniforms because families simply cannot afford them."
She pauses before adding something that perhaps says more about foundational learning than any assessment report ever could.
"I wish you could see the joy on their faces when they receive those uniforms. Even children who were not performing well suddenly become more confident. They participate more in class. Their performance starts improving."
Her observation echoes what education psychologists have argued for years, that learning is influenced not only by cognitive ability but also by belonging, confidence and emotional wellbeing.
Research by UNESCO and UNICEF consistently shows that children learn best when they feel included, valued and safe. Studies by the OECD have similarly found that learners with a stronger sense of belonging at school generally perform better academically than those who feel excluded.
Perhaps this is where Kenya's conversation on foundational learning needs to evolve.
Much of the discussion has centred on whether children can read a sentence by Grade Three or solve age-appropriate mathematics problems. Those measurements remain important.
But what if the child who cannot read confidently is also the one who never joins classmates on educational trips? What if the learner struggling with classroom participation is the same one repeatedly left behind whenever activities require parental contributions?
Learning cannot be separated from lived experience.
During the Foundational Learning Exchange (FLEX) conference in Malawi, Dr. Obiageli "Oby" Ezekwesili challenged African governments to move beyond declarations and focus on implementation.
"The credibility of the Kigali Declaration will be tested in our districts," she told delegates.
It was a reminder that policy succeeds only when it reaches the classroom.
Perhaps its success should also be measured by whether every child experiences education with dignity.
Kenya has invested heavily in strengthening the education system. According to Martha Odundo, Director of Early Childhood Education at the Ministry of Education, has put in place commendable reforms which demonstrate that the country is serious about improving learning outcomes.
Yet one cannot help but wonder whether the same attention has been given to monitoring equality of experience.
While quality assurance officers evaluate lesson delivery, curriculum support officers mentor teachers, and assessment officers monitor learning outcomes, who, then, measures whether every child has an equal opportunity to participate in learning?
The question becomes even more relevant under the Competency-Based Curriculum, whose very philosophy is built around learner-centred education.
CBC deserves recognition for attempting to make education more contextual and inclusive. In many ways, it represents one of Kenya's boldest attempts to democratise learning.
Yet implementation sometimes tells a different story.
Parents continue reporting requests for cooking ingredients, project materials and financial contributions for activities linked to school-based assessments and the result is subtle but profound.
A child excluded from a practical activity misses more than marks.
They miss confidence, conversations, memories, and even opportunities to discover abilities they never knew they possessed.
Kenya has witnessed remarkable acts of kindness aimed at addressing some of these inequalities.
Teacher Mungai Karenge a Digital content creator has become widely known for mobilising support to provide school uniforms to needy learners across not only in the school where he is posted but in the neighboring schools as well.
His work has resonated with many Kenyans not simply because uniforms are pieces of clothing, but because they restore dignity.
Children who once avoided school because they lacked proper attire suddenly begin attending classes confidently and the popularity of such initiatives raises another important question.
If individual teachers and well-wishers can recognise that dignity matters in education, should it not also become part of how the country measures foundational learning?
Education is about much more than literacy, it is about ensuring that every learner, regardless of family income, feels equally valued within the classroom.
That does not mean eliminating educational trips or practical projects.
On the contrary, these experiences should become even more accessible because they enrich learning.
Perhaps the conversation should instead focus on creating financing models that guarantee no learner is excluded because of poverty.
Perhaps county governments, school boards, private sector partners and education stakeholders should explore ways of subsidising educational trips, practical assessments and co-curricular activities for vulnerable learners.
Perhaps quality assurance should include indicators that measure inclusion, participation and learner wellbeing alongside literacy and numeracy.
There is an old saying that a fish rots from the head.
But as one education participant in Malawi observed, if systems are strengthened in the middle, the rot may never reach the bottom.
That metaphor applies remarkably well to Kenya's education reforms. The country has strengthened leadership at the top and it is strengthening quality assurance in the middle.
The next challenge is ensuring that no child at the bottom falls through invisible cracks created not by curriculum design, but by poverty.
Somewhere in Kenya today, another school bus will pull into a school compound.
Children will rush aboard carrying packed lunches, excitement and endless questions.
By evening, they will return eager to tell stories about museums, wildlife, factories, historical monuments or science exhibitions.
The following morning, their teacher may ask what they learnt, hands will shoot into the air, stories will fill the classroom.
But somewhere near the back of that same room, another child may quietly avoid eye contact, not because they were incapable of learning, but because they never had the opportunity to experience the lesson.
For years, Kenya has measured foundational learning by asking whether children can read.
Perhaps it is time to ask another question.
Can every child experience the education we expect them to learn from?
Because equality in foundational learning is not achieved when every child sits the same examination.
It begins much earlier.
It begins when every child, regardless of where they were born or how much money their parents earn, has an equal opportunity to board the school bus, wear the same confidence as their classmates, participate in every lesson, and return home believing that education belongs to them too.
Only then can Kenya truly say that foundational learning has become the great equaliser it was always meant to be.