Cynthia Ebot Takang
I watched Leslie (not her real name), from afar, quiet, withdrawn, and always peeking through the fence as school children walked past our neighborhood. She should have been in uniform, but she stayed home, pregnant at 15. The boy, responsible, still walked to school every day in pressed khaki, after his parents supported him to deny the pregnancy, two years ago.
Leslie’s story is not uncommon in my community in Yaounde, Cameroon, where young girls bear the brunt of teen pregnancy while boys continue their education uninterrupted. But new policies are slowly changing that narrative, bringing hope to girls like Leslie.
For the longest time, pregnancy was a point of no return for girls in school. Once a bump showed, a girl was sent home, not just by school authorities but by a society that saw her as damaged goods.
Families often forced such girls into early marriages or kept them indoors to avoid shame. In Leslie’s case, she disappeared quietly, while her dreams of becoming a nurse were packed away in a corner with the rest of her books (as she shared when I approached her for this story).
Meanwhile, boys who get these girls pregnant face no consequence. In most cases, their names aren’t even mentioned. They went on with school, made new friends, and sat for exams while the girls bore the weight of shame, responsibility, and lost opportunities.
Policy shift in teen Pregnancy and Education in Cameroon
But from April 2022, a new voice rose above this silence. Cameroon’s Minister of Secondary Education, Professor Pauline Nalova Lyonga, issued a circular, No.02/22/C/MINESEC/CAB, addressed to all education stakeholders.
The circular was firm, and direct: pregnant students should no longer be pushed out of the classroom. They now have the right to education before, during, and after pregnancy. Her words shook old beliefs. She didn’t just advocate for the girl child, she demanded justice. She pointed out that girls were already victims of early marriage, sexual violence, and societal pressure. Removing them from school while pregnant only deepened their marginalization and increased female illiteracy rates. The message was clear: education is a right, not a privilege tied to one’s circumstances.
Not everyone agreed, of course. Even till now the education authorities make regular check ups in schools to ensure this decision is respected and no girl stayed home while pregnant for an act two persons engaged in.
In my neighborhood, some parents whispered about “encouraging immorality.” A teacher I spoke with confessed, “I support the idea, but I worry it’ll make students careless.” But others saw the policy for what it truly was, a lifeline.
Madame Cécile, a school principal in my locality, shared the case of a 16-year-old student who returned to class just three weeks after giving birth in April 2025. “She came back more determined than ever,” the principal said. “And her performance was even better than before.” She added that while support systems like counseling and health services are still limited, the first step, allowing re-entry, was already transforming lives.
Still, challenges remain. Not all schools have embraced the policy. Some quietly encourage pregnant students to drop out. Others fail to create the kind of inclusive environment these girls need to thrive. But the door is now open, and many girls are walking back in, with their heads held high.
Leslie never went back to school. Her baby is two years old now. Sometimes, I still see her looking out the window, and admiring kids pass by every morning dressed in uniforms, but now with her daughter in her arms. I often wonder if she knows that the rules have changed.
That if her younger sister were to fall into the same situation, her future wouldn’t have to end the same way. By telling her story, I hope Leslie and many others would continue the quest for their education. This new policy isn’t about promoting carelessness. It’s about giving girls a second chance. It’s about justice. Education shouldn’t stop for anyone, not for girls, not for mothers, and not for victims, because the girl child, as Minister Nalova said, truly has the sky as her limit.
#Cynthia Ebot Takang is a Cameroonian Journalist and fellow of Africa foundation for Young Professionals’ 2025 Women in Journalism, Gender reporting fellow
