School Na Scam” and the Viral Shame of Degrees: The PELLER Interview Controversy and Nigeria’s Crisis of Value
In a week dominated by headlines of youth unemployment, strikes in tertiary institutions, and another round of ASUU-government deadlock, one social media video cut through the noise and ignited a storm of national debate: a viral clip showing 20-year-old TikTok influencer PELLER hosting a bizarre “job interview” with Master’s degree holders—only to use the entire process as comedy content for his growing online fanbase.
To the untrained eye, it may appear as just another skit gone wrong, but to Nigeria’s academic community, job seekers, and defenders of intellectual rigor, the episode is emblematic of a deeper rot: the increasing irrelevance of formal education in the country’s public imagination.
It wasn’t just the image of men and women, visibly older and better educated, being ordered around by a barely articulate young man whose claim to fame is viral slang and incoherent speech. It was what the clip represented: the elevation of online fame above intellect, the cheapening of academic effort, and the final humiliation of an entire generation that had invested in the traditional promise that “education is the key.”
Welcome to Nigeria’s content economy, where a TikToker with 500,000 followers has more negotiating power than a PhD holder. Where algorithms trump certificates. And where “School na scam” is no longer just a lament, but a lifestyle philosophy—one that millions now live by.
Who is PELLER and Why Is This Controversy Explosive?
PELLER (real name withheld), a 20-year-old Nigerian content creator, rose to fame not through wit or innovation but through viral videos that highlight his inability to speak English properly. Ironically, his linguistic limitations became his strongest branding asset, earning him both ridicule and relevance in Nigeria’s internet circles.
Initially dismissed by many as another social media fad, PELLER has managed to build a niche digital brand, attracting endorsement deals, brand partnerships, and a dedicated fanbase. More recently, his collaborations with “AI Jarvis”—an artificially voiced digital assistant used by his creative partner—gained traction among younger demographics interested in tech and visual effects.
But all that goodwill took a nosedive last week.
In what was promoted as a legitimate “job interview opportunity,” PELLER invited several Master’s degree holders to an interview session that quickly devolved into a content stunt. The applicants were subjected to intentionally absurd questions, comic interruptions, and were later ridiculed for being “too serious.”
By the time the clip went viral, reactions had split across a sharp divide. On one side: social media users who found the video “hilarious,” calling it a “reality check” for bookish elites. On the other: a sea of outrage from scholars, educators, jobseekers, and parents who saw the clip as mockery of Nigeria’s educational system and the people who still believe in it.
Not a Comedy, But a Mirror
Let’s be clear—this isn’t just about one young man trying to “chase clout.” The PELLER saga has unearthed a generational fracture in Nigeria: the growing alienation of youth from traditional pathways to success, the monetization of absurdity, and the systematic failure of formal structures to reward merit.
YOU MAY READ
Trump Extends TikTok Ban Deadline, Again—What You Need to Know
In a saner society, education should be a launchpad. In Nigeria, it has become an expensive burden with low returns. A Master’s degree no longer guarantees employment, dignity, or even social respect. In some cases, it might even make you a target of ridicule.
And in a country where even PhD holders queue up for N-Power stipends, is it any surprise that a TikToker with no formal articulation skills feels emboldened enough to “interview” Master’s degree holders—not to offer them a job, but to mine their desperation for likes and comments?
What PELLER did wasn’t just tasteless. It was symptomatic of a larger value crisis. One where the currency of attention is more powerful than that of knowledge.
The Managerial Failure Behind the Stunt
Observers who have followed PELLER’s rise have often pointed out one thing: the young man is not without potential—but he is clearly being mishandled.
Instead of leveraging his popularity to acquire basic education, learn presentation skills, or at least explore mentorship in tech and media, he has been encouraged to double down on the same gimmicks that made him go viral.
The tragic irony? He could be far more than a meme.
If PELLER’s handlers had insisted on a year-long immersion in business communication or even a media training bootcamp, he could have evolved into a youth ambassador, a relatable voice bridging the digital and traditional. Instead, they turned him into a living punchline, albeit one with engagement metrics.
Worse still, they allowed him to weaponize desperation for content—exploiting Nigeria’s educated poor in an ecosystem where even CVs are beginning to look like digital relics.
Of Degrees and Dignity: Who Really Should Be Ashamed?
Critics of the viral video have rightfully asked: what were the Master’s degree holders doing there in the first place?
Shouldn’t they have “known better”?
But this response reeks of privilege and ignorance. Many of these applicants likely believed the job ad was genuine. With thousands of young Nigerians applying for limited openings, often through WhatsApp broadcasts or Telegram channels, the lines between real and fake job interviews are often blurred.
In a country where youth unemployment hovers near 54%, and where even unpaid internships are treated as prized opportunities, asking applicants to “research the employer” before applying is both classist and disconnected from reality.
These are people who did everything “right”—studied hard, earned advanced degrees, applied for jobs—and still ended up as unwilling extras in someone else’s slapstick.
No, they should not be ashamed.
If anything, the shame belongs to the system that devalues their effort, the algorithm that elevates mockery above merit, and the audience that treats education as a joke until it is their child being mocked.
“School Na Scam” or “System Na Scam”?
The “School Na Scam” mantra didn’t begin with PELLER. It has long echoed through Nigerian music, skits, memes, and street talk. From entertainers like Portable to students who drop out to pursue content creation, the sentiment has been normalized.
But we must separate schooling from learning.
Education, in its truest form, is not a scam. But when a country refuses to reward academic discipline with opportunity, when research papers gather dust and only influencers get invited to government panels, when university graduates beg for loans to start poultry farms while YouTubers buy Benzes with crypto ads—the system itself becomes the scam.
PELLER didn’t invent this ecosystem. He’s just profiting from it.
Content or Conscience: What Should Educated Nigerians Do Now?
Perhaps the most provocative part of the ongoing conversation is not what PELLER did, but what educated Nigerians are not doing.
As one commentator asked in a now-viral podcast: “What stops you from creating content about your career or discipline?”
Indeed. Why are our PhD holders not on YouTube breaking down inflation in Pidgin English? Why are our cybercrime experts not creating reels on fraud awareness? Why are lecturers waiting for ASUU meetings when they could be giving 5-minute explainer videos on climate change?
Content creation is not beneath academics. It is the new frontier of public engagement.
For too long, Nigeria’s intelligentsia has cloaked itself in elitism, refusing to descend into what they perceive as “street talk.” But in a nation where the average citizen spends 6–8 hours daily on social media, refusing to engage is not noble—it’s negligent.
PELLER may be unserious, but the platform he has is very serious. Imagine if it were used to teach digital skills, promote reading culture, or demystify economics?
This is the time for a new kind of scholar—one who creates content not to chase clout, but to reclaim relevance.
Cultural Relevance vs. Competence: A Dangerous Trade-off
There’s a growing belief that in Nigeria today, what you know matters far less than how many people know you.
This mindset is corrosive. It leads to a culture where shouting gets more attention than solving problems, where virality is confused with value, and where academic accomplishment is seen as a backup plan—not a goal.
We cannot continue like this.
If education is no longer aspirational, if the youth no longer believe in books, if employers prefer influencers to interns—then the nation is not just suffering an unemployment crisis, but an identity crisis.
The antidote is not censorship or envy. It is value reclamation—creating ecosystems where degrees are useful, innovation is celebrated, and the TikTok generation is given better options than “trending at any cost.”
Rewriting the Narrative
This is not a call to cancel PELLER. He is a product of his environment—a boy who saw that nonsense sells and decided to monetize his imperfections.
This is a call to redirect his energy, and more importantly, challenge his audience.
Let the scholars fight back—not with insults, but with influence.
Let the teachers enter TikTok.
Let the biochemists do podcasts.
Let the lawyers livestream Q&A sessions.
Let the civil engineers build virtual classrooms.
And when we do this—not out of desperation but with intentionality—we will begin to show that education is not a scam. It is a competitive edge, and it must adapt or die.
Final Thoughts: Not Just a Joke
PELLER’s mock interview of educated Nigerians was not just a viral joke. It was a symbolic burial of dignity, performed on the altar of clout.
But it doesn’t have to end that way.
This controversy, ugly as it is, gives us a chance to recalibrate our values, demand more of our influencers, and remind ourselves that education is still power—but only if it is applied, defended, and made visible in the places that matter.
The TikTok generation is here. But so is the future of knowledge.
The real question is: who will shape it?