ABSTRACT
The breach of fiduciary duty by teachers, especially at the pre-tertiary level to entangle themselves in amorous relationships with their students has once again found its way into the media following a viral video of a female high school student and a male teacher in a compromising situation and subsequent suspension of the teacher by the Ghana Education Service (GES). Minister for Education Haruna Iddrisu has strongly condemned such amorous relationships and the GES has reminded teachers of their moral and legal responsibilities to avoid such relationships. In this brief, I take a closer look at the Education Service’s oversight responsibility in ensuring that young girls, especially, are not cajoled into such relationships through undue influence and a breach of fiduciary responsibility. I posit that stricter measures must be put in place by policymakers to ensure culprits are deterred and recalcitrant ones are fiercely dealt with. This, I explain, can be done by creating a licensure system for teachers where the breach of such and other moral codes lead to a suspension or complete withdrawal of such licence where the culprit loses the right ad privilege to teach in any school, be it private or public. A more student-friendly system should also be created in schools and at the policymaker level to ensure students are able to report teachers who proposition them.
Introduction
In October 2025, Ghana was rocked by a shocking betrayal of trust at Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology Senior High School (KNUST SHS). A viral video showed the school’s Assistant Headmaster (Academic), Mr. Charles A. Aidoo, in a compromising position with a female student. The Ghana Education Service (GES) reacted swiftly – dismissing Mr. Aidoo from office and barring him from the campus pending investigation. Almost simultaneously, another scandal emerged from Okadjakrom Senior High Technical School, where Mr. Richard Tibetor was interdicted after a video allegedly showed him in an act of sexual misconduct with a student
Public officials condemned the incidents in no uncertain terms. Education Minister Haruna Iddrisu demanded that the GES “deal ruthlessly and decisively” with any teacher who falls short of professional standards, framing these abuses as intolerable. Vice President Jane Naana Opoku-Agyemang likewise denounced the conduct as “a betrayal of trust,” warning that offenders will face “strict sanctions” and that “transfers are not punishments” for teachers who prey on pupils. Ghana’s teachers’ unions and civil society joined the outcry, reminding educators that the girl-child is not for exploitation and must be protected under our care. In short, the KNUST and Okadjakrom cases exposed a crisis: those entrusted with our children’s minds and futures have, in some cases, betrayed that sacred duty.
The Problem: Amorous relations between teachers and students
These high-profile cases are not isolated accidents but part of a deeper rot. Across Ghana’s schools, from basic to tertiary levels, stories of sexual exploitation by teachers have surfaced repeatedly. A recent editorial lamented that our sanctuaries of learning have been “scarred by revelations of sexual exploitation”, from 2018’s BBC Africa Eye “Sex for Grades” exposé in universities to whispered accounts in lesser-known institutions. Investigations at Kaneshie SHS and elsewhere uncovered multiple accusations against teachers, underscoring that the problem cuts across regions and school tiers.
Why are female students so often the targets? Experts point to an obvious explanation: absolute power. Teachers wield enormous authority over grades, discipline and future opportunities. When that authority goes unchecked, exploitation thrives. As one commentator notes, when “authority figures become predators, they fracture” the student-teacher trust. Many young girls in our schools have little knowledge of their rights and live in fear of retaliation. They worry that reporting abuse will brand them “promiscuous,” cost them their place in school, or even bring vengeance from the community. Cultural taboos around discussing sex deepen the silence. In short, a teen girl often has far less power or voice than the grown teacher at the front of the class.
The legal and moral framework reflects this imbalance. Under Ghanaian law, teachers effectively stand in loco parentis: they assume a guardian’s role whenever students are under school care. This status carries a fiduciary duty, a binding legal obligation to act solely in the students’ best interests. A recent legal commentary made this point forcefully: even if a student is “legally an adult,” “principles… place teachers in the role of guardians,” meaning any sexual relationship with a pupil is a grave breach of responsibility. In the KNUST SHS case, one lawyer bluntly stated that the head teacher had “breached fiduciary duty as a parent in the school”. In contrast to workplace romances among peers, teacher–student relations carry no presumption of consent; the power dynamic makes true consent impossible.
Ultimately, the teacher must bear responsibility, not the student. Even if a student is of age, the teacher’s position makes any sexual liaison inherently coercive. Ghana’s own Children’s Act and Criminal Offences Act are unforgiving when minors are involved, but even beyond statutory rules, our values and international commitments demand that educators protect children at all costs. Under treaties like the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child and CEDAW, Ghana is obliged to keep learning environments safe from exploitation. When the person hired as a custodian of our children’s welfare abuses that role, it “represents a grave violation” of trust. We must therefore place the onus squarely on teachers to uphold the highest standards, not on naive pupils.
Yet Ghana’s current safeguards have proved far too weak. The GES Code of Conduct explicitly prohibits “sexual comments, touching, and related abuses”, and the Ministry of Gender, Children and Social Protection even issued statements calling for criminal investigations. But on the ground, the response is often limited to internal discipline. In recent cases, GES moved quickly: it interdicted Mr. Tibetor and prohibited his school access, and it removed Mr. Aidoo from office. Head of Public Relations Daniel Fenyi assured the public that any teacher found culpable “will lose their job” and face the full rigour of the Code of Conduct. These are the right immediate steps.
Still, simply suspending or firing the offender is insufficient as a deterrent or long-term fix. For decades, many wayward teachers in Ghana have been quietly transferred to new schools or districts. In some cases, a scandal would lead to a transfer, with the problem reappearing elsewhere. Vice President Opoku-Agyemang explicitly warned that “transfers are not punishments” and must never be used to shield abusers. Indeed, announcing a disciplinary transfer without further consequence only seeds cynicism. A Ghanaian commentator observes that abuse cases keep recurring because “policies exist more on paper than in classrooms”. High-profile scandals often prompt GES press releases, but enforcement has historically been patchy. There is no centralized registry of disciplined teachers, so a GES dismissal today might simply mean the teacher can quietly apply for a job in another district tomorrow.
By contrast, other professions show how formal oversight can work. Ghana’s legal field, for instance, requires lawyers to be licensed by the General Legal Council and respects its Disciplinary Committee; lawyers found guilty of serious misconduct can be disbarred permanently. Ghana’s National Teaching Council (NTC), created under the Education Regulatory Bodies Act (2020), is meant to play a similar role for educators. By law the NTC does have the mandate to license and register teachers, maintain a national database, and develop a professional code of ethics. In practice, however, the NTC is still building capacity, and most teachers hired before its creation have never been formally registered. As things stand, the only official sanction for offenders is a GES dismissal, after which they remain on no formal “blacklist.” This patchwork approach, occasional GES circulars and suspensions, falls short of protecting Ghana’s children.
Finding a Solution: What has been done and what suggestions are out there?
It is time for a bold break from this ad hoc system. Ghana needs a national licensure and ethics regime for teachers, modeled on the strict professional frameworks of lawyers or medical doctors, and covering both public and private schools. Every teacher, from Kindergartens to Universities, should be officially licensed by a central authority. (In fact, we already have the beginnings of this system: the NTC is empowered by law to issue licenses and conduct periodic licensure exams.) The proposal is to fully empower the NTC (or an independent equivalent) to function like a professional licensing board.
Under this scheme, a person could only teach after passing a licensure examination and meeting education standards, after which they would receive an annual or multi-year teaching license. This license would require adherence to a clearly defined Code of Ethics, much like the Michigan (USA) Code of Educational Ethics, which sets out core principles to honour the public trust. Crucially, any substantiated breach of ethics (for example, sexual misconduct with a student) would trigger a formal disciplinary hearing by an independent tribunal. Such a panel could include education experts, psychologists, legal professionals and community representatives, operating transparently and at arm’s length from the school authorities.
If a teacher is found culpable, the tribunal should have the power to impose the strongest sanctions: permanent revocation of the teaching license. This would be equivalent to disbarment. A revoked license would mean the person can never teach again in Ghana, public or private; unless reinstated by an appeal process. Even short of permanent revocation, lesser penalties (temporary suspension, mandatory counseling, probation under supervision) can be applied where appropriate. The key is to send a clear message: predators in our schools will be exposed and barred for life. As one GES spokesman put it, “When you are found culpable in such a situation…we cannot obviously work with you and so the first reaction is that you will lose your job”. Under the proposed scheme, “losing your job” becomes only the beginning, the teacher’s entire professional identity would be forfeit.
Crucially, this new regime must encompass both public and private institutions. Currently, private schools escape some state oversight, but there is no principled reason predatory behavior by a private-school teacher should be treated more lightly. Ghana must require that all schools hire only licensed teachers and must report any allegations immediately to the national council. In fact, federal law in the U.S. (ESSA Section 8546) explicitly forbids any school from helping an accused employee find a new job elsewhere. Ghana should enact a similar rule: once a teacher is under investigation for abuse, no school may hire them anew unless cleared by the disciplinary board. A national “Blacklist of Offenders” could be maintained (perhaps a confidential register checked during hiring) to ensure no predator quietly slips through the cracks.
Training and ethics education should complement licensure. Every teacher should undergo regular professional development in school law, child rights and power dynamics. This emphasizes that teaching is a profession with moral and legal duties, not just a job. Stakeholders could look to international examples: for instance, schools in the UK require thorough background checks and have designated child-protection officers; some U.S. districts mandate training on Title IX responsibilities. Ghana’s NTC and GES can integrate similar programs into teacher education and in-service training, so that the culture of child safety is ever-present.
Creating this system will require political will and resources, but it is not unprecedented. Ghana’s 2020 Education Act already mandates licensure and ethics standards, we only need to implement and beef them up. Lawmakers and the Education Ministry should fast-track regulations that give the NTC genuine investigatory and sanction powers, and establish the independent disciplinary board by statute. We should also learn from other countries. Michigan and many U.S. states, for example, require teachers to hold state-issued certificates and impose license revocation for criminal sexual conduct. By aligning Ghana’s practice with global “best practice,” we ensure no teacher can trade on ignorance or bureaucratic inertia.
Protecting the students and ensuring safe environment to report
Any policy must keep students, especially victims, at the center. Victims of teacher misconduct already carry trauma; the system must not punish them with shame or exposure. First, reporting mechanisms must be confidential and safe. Schools should establish anonymous or confidential reporting channels (hotlines, online forms, or designated child advocates) where a student can alert authorities without fear of publicity. In the U.S., Title IX guidelines exemplify this: once a formal complaint is made, the district “will keep confidential the identity of a person who reports” sexual harassment except when required by law. Ghana should adopt a similar rule for schools: until investigators have gathered clear evidence, the student’s identity must be protected.
Second, to encourage reporting, strict anti-retaliation measures are essential. No teacher or staff should be allowed to intimidate or punish anyone for coming forward. The Reese School District policy is clear: retaliation (threats, coercion etc.) against anyone who reports abuse is prohibited. Ghana’s schools should mirror this stance. Any proven attempt to intimidate a complainant, for example, pressuring a girl’s family, or denigrating her reputation, should itself result in penalty for the offending staff. Students and families must feel confident that speaking up will only bring support, not stigma.
Third, every affected student should receive supportive care. Upon a credible allegation, schools should trigger a trauma-informed response team: school counselors, social workers and medical professionals should attend to the girl’s emotional and physical needs. Meanwhile, the accused teacher can be placed on administrative leave to prevent contact, pending a prompt, fair investigation. (During the KNUST SHS case, for example, GES immediately barred Mr. Aidoo from campus during inquiry) Investigations should proceed quickly but thoroughly, using trained investigators; not shirked under “do your best in one day” frenzy.
Finally, once a case is proven, the student must be protected from further victimization. The school could offer measures such as a class transfer (if available), scheduling changes, or other adjustments, but never punish the student academically. She should not lose her place in class or boarding because of coming forward. Ghana should also consider establishing a formal witness support program, akin to child advocacy services, so that a student’s testimony can be given in the most secure environment. All this fosters a “psychologically safe” climate where girls know that the system cares for them first.
Conclusion
The recent scandals at KNUST SHS and Okadjakrom SHTS have laid bare a painful truth: far too often those charged with enlightening young minds have shadowed them with exploitation. Ghana cannot afford to tolerate this breach of the foundational pact between teacher and pupil. As argued, our schools must remain sanctuaries, not hunting grounds for predators. The burden of reform lies squarely on our shoulders.
We must demand that educators live up to the highest ethical standards. Existing measures, the GES code, headline-making dismissals, and occasional committee reviews, have proven inadequate in the long run. Teachers occupy positions of profound trust; when they violate that trust, the consequences must extend beyond routine transfers or quiet suspensions. We owe our children a systemic guarantee that any teacher who abuses them loses not only his job, but his very license to teach. This means a robust licensing regime with teeth: all teachers certified by a national council, bound by a strict code, and subject to an independent disciplinary tribunal that can strip them of their livelihood if they prey on students. Such a council would be Ghana’s answer to the General Legal Council for lawyers, but for educators, a guardian of public confidence in our schools.
At the same time, we must make reporting safe and the welfare of the student paramount. A traumatized girl must never be revictimized by gossip or retaliation; confidentiality and care are her rights. Our child-protection and education laws enshrine her right to a safe learning environment, and our international commitments (CRC, CEDAW) leave no wiggle room for leniency. If we truly value education, we must uproot this cancer of abuse.
In the end, the solution is as much moral as it is legal. We teach children to treat others with respect and honesty; we cannot excuse a teacher who fails that test of character. Ghana’s future depends on reviving faith in our schools. By insisting on professional licensing, strict discipline, and unwavering support for victims, we not only punish past wrongs but build a system where such wrongs cannot be hidden. Let this be a turning point, where betrayal of a student becomes not an unfortunate incident, but an unforgivable breach with swift, irreversible consequence. Our children, and our nation, deserve nothing less.
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The writer, Richard G. Adjadeh, is a graduate student in Master of Public Policy (MPP) at Michigan State University and a Research Assistant with Afrobarometer.
He takes responsibility for the arguments in this article and can be contacted via adjadehrichie@gmail.com or adjadehr@msu.edu
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