By Alex Prince Johnson
Karluway, Maryland County – In the dense, remote bushland of southeastern Liberia, near the Ivory Coast border, Johnsonville Public School stands as a testament to neglect. Once a symbol of hope for the children of the area, it is now a crumbling structure, ignored by both town and government. The silence that surrounds it is not one of peaceful learning but of abandonment, echoed by broken promises, deteriorating blackboards, and the sound of rain leaking through rusted zinc roofs. What remains of the school today is little more than a dilapidated four-room building, with a community that clings to the hope that its children still deserve the chance to dream.
Since the end of Liberia’s Civil War, the Johnsonville community has struggled to establish a functioning school. Initially an incomplete structure with a thatched roof, it was later upgraded to a block building ~ though it was never finished, never properly resourced, and never officially supported. Serving two villages with over 200 residents and more than 100 enrolled children, the school now operates with few resources. Students sit on bare floors without desks, chairs, blackboards, or textbooks.
“We have nothing that a school needs, yet we are called one,” says James Himmie, the school’s principal. “We don’t teach with tools. We teach with conviction. But even conviction has limits.”
The school has not had paid teachers in over 25 years, relying instead on one unpaid, untrained volunteer educator who is left to manage a growing student population. Children from Early Childhood through Grade 5 are all crammed into three unstable classrooms, with no separation between different age groups or subjects.
“Can you imagine teaching a six-year-old to recognize the alphabet while also trying to solve fractions with a fifth grader?” asks Himmie, his voice trembling. “This isn’t teaching. It’s survival mode.”
The population of school-aged children in Johnsonville is steadily increasing, driven by the high birth rate ~ there is nearly one child born every three months in the community. But with no proper schooling, children are often pushed into manual labor as farmers or motorbike riders.
“Parents aren’t choosing labor over education ~ they’re surrendering,” Himmie says. “They send their children to Gbon when they can, but it’s a two- to three-hour walk through difficult terrain. Many give up along the way.”
The physical state of the school itself tells the full story. The walls are cracked from foundation to ceiling, and the zinc roofing ~ donated by a political aspirant years ago ~ only partially covers the rooms, leaving gaps where rain pours in, ruining the few materials the students have. Chalk is scarce, and there are no textbooks, no reference books, and no curriculum.
“We’ve never had a government-issued textbook,” Himmie says. “What we teach is cobbled together from memory and borrowed notes. Even the chalk—we sometimes break pieces from nearby schools. And yet they say Liberia is making progress.”
The lack of educational materials is compounded by the absence of any formal curriculum. Himmie relies on informal teaching methods and guidance from colleagues in neighboring towns to piece together lessons. He has been forced to take on multiple roles beyond that of a teacher ~ repairing benches, cleaning classrooms, and even developing the curriculum.
“I’ve become a janitor, a counselor, a carpenter,” Himmie says. “I fix what I can when I find the materials. I teach from instinct.”
Despite numerous letters and meetings with district officials, as well as documentation submitted to the County Education Office, Johnsonville has received little attention from authorities. The school is largely ignored unless it is time for election campaigns.
“We’ve written letters, met with officials, and submitted documents,” Himmie says. “But nobody responds. We only hear from them when it’s time to vote.”
The Ministry of Education regularly reports progress in rural education, but Johnsonville tells a different story. There have been no school inspections, no outreach, and no funding allocations in recent memory. No education official has ever visited the school, according to Himmie.
“They talk about inclusion in their speeches,” Himmie says bitterly. “But come walk on our muddy floors. Come sit with these children on the cracked cement.”
Local elders in the area are also frustrated. “We are tired of being counted only during election time,” one elder told our contributor. “These are our children. Their stories matter. Their dreams matter.”
Himmie agrees. “We don’t need a miracle. We need commitment. Just one trained teacher. Just one delivery of supplies. Just one official who treats our children like they matter.”
Advocates for rural education argue that Johnsonville is not an isolated case but rather a microcosm of the systemic failures affecting rural Liberia. If communities like Johnsonville continue to be left behind, the country risks abandoning the very future it claims to invest in.
“This isn’t just a school in ruins,” Himmie concludes. “It’s the slow erasure of a generation.”
