The announcement by Principal Secretary Julius Bitok that the government intends to increase Free Primary Education (FPE) funding has landed in schools like a long-awaited rainfall over a thirsty land. For years, headteachers have been managing institutions through scarcity, improvising solutions with the resourcefulness of artisans, stretching every shilling to cover needs that far outweigh allocations.
The declaration of increased funding is, without question, handy. It signals recognition from the top that schools, teachers, and learners deserve better. It acknowledges that the financial spine of public education has been bending dangerously under the weight of rising demands. But while the intention is noble, the truth remains as stubborn as it is painful—the increase, though welcome, is still too little for the realities schools face today.
To appreciate the magnitude of this funding conversation, one must return to the early years of FPE. In 2003, when the programme was introduced, the government allocated Ksh1,020 per learner. That amount was revolutionary for its time, opening school doors for millions of children who would otherwise have remained locked out. But two decades later, that same figure still shadows the system, only slightly adjusted upward even as the cost of everything—chalk, textbooks, electricity, water, stationery, repairs, examinations, support staff—has skyrocketed. The proposed increase is a nod in the right direction, but in practical terms, it is akin to adding a cup of water to a well that has been drying for years.
Headteachers understand this better than anyone else. They live the contradiction daily: being custodians of public hope while operating in conditions that often undermine that hope. When allocations delay—as they frequently do—they must sign for goods on credit, negotiate with suppliers, plead with BOM teachers to wait longer for salaries, and sometimes confront parents who believe the school is hiding funds. They navigate threats from electricity disconnections, manage disgruntled workers, patch leaking roofs, and still stand before learners with steady voices. They are expected to perform miracles with budgets that barely cover the basics.
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For these school leaders, Bitok’s announcement is not something to dismiss. It is meaningful. It comes with the promise that maybe the chronic suffocation of schools will ease. It implies that policymakers are beginning to listen, that education is slowly inching back toward seriousness. But at the same time, headteachers know that intentions without proportional allocations only create another cycle of temporary relief followed by deeper frustration.
The pressure schools face is multidimensional. Buildings age faster than they can be repaired. Toilets overflow. Playfields are uneven. Laboratories remain shells without equipment. Class sizes balloon. The number of special-needs learners increases but without adequate specialized support. Even environmental responsibilities—like sanitation and water conservation—now demand resources schools do not have. As an environmentalist and educator, one sees how neglected school environments mirror national neglect: dry taps, cracked walls, eroded grounds, and struggling trees planted during national days fading for lack of water or care
The funding issue becomes even more complex when aligned with the needs of competency-based approaches like CBE. These approaches demand equipment, materials, workshops, and flexible learning spaces. They require teachers to be resourced and trained, not merely present. Schools must buy tools, art materials, science kits, digital devices, and agricultural inputs. These cannot be sourced through creativity alone—they need real financial muscle. Without sufficient allocations, headteachers are pushed to the uncomfortable edge of improvisation, where quality is compromised and learners receive an education that barely scratches the potential intended under CBE.
In this context, even the most hardworking headteacher becomes limited. They juggle instructional leadership with financial firefighting. They are responsible for safety, learning outcomes, discipline, community engagement, infrastructure, and the welfare of teachers and learners. They manage emotional labour as much as academic duty. They counsel hungry learners, negotiate with worried parents, and handle emergencies ranging from broken boreholes to storm-damaged classrooms. No private manager carries such a demanding portfolio with such meagre administrative resources.
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It is no wonder many feel stretched thin. Their strength becomes both a virtue and a trap—society expects them to endure without breaking, to perform without complaining, and to produce results regardless of the conditions. The increase in FPE funding, therefore, is not just about money; it is a symbolic affirmation that the government finally notices these invisible battles.
Still, symbolism does not buy chalk. Recognition does not repair classrooms. Intentions do not pay support staff. Announcing an increase is a start, but without aligning funding to the actual cost of educating a child in 2026 and beyond, the education system remains suspended in a cycle of partial reform.
Schools need predictable, adequate, and timely disbursements. They need a model that acknowledges inflation, regional variations, enrolment fluctuations, and the differentiated needs of special schools. They need accountability mechanisms that are supportive, not punitive; systems that guide instead of intimidate. Above all, they need funding that is realistic—not aspirational, not symbolic, but grounded in what it truly costs to deliver quality education in Kenya today.
Headteachers will continue to lead with resilience; that is who they are. Teachers will continue to serve learners with the dedication that has carried the sector through difficult decades. Parents will continue to support schools within their capacity. But the government must now match this commitment proportionally. A small increase keeps the system alive; a sufficient increase transforms it. The difference between the two is the difference between managing poverty and building possibility.
Julius Bitok’s announcement is a good beginning. But Kenya must now advance beyond beginnings. The country must invest fully in its children, not through symbolic increments but through bold, strategic, and sustainable funding reforms. Only then will FPE fulfil its promise—not as a political achievement from 2003 but as a living, evolving commitment to equitable, dignified, and world-class education for every child.
By Hillary Muhalya
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