Less Time in Class, More Time to Grow: Wajakoyah’s Plan to Reshape Kenyan Education

George Wajakoyah has once again placed education at the center of his public agenda, outlining a sweeping proposal to fundamentally restructure how Kenyan children spend their time in school. Speaking on July 22, 2026, the Roots Party leader said that should he assume the presidency in the coming year, the school week and school day would be dramatically shortened. According to him, learners from primary to secondary level would be in class for just four hours each day, and only from Monday through Thursday. The remaining three days of the week would be left free, and the extra hours each day would be handed back to families and communities.

The core of his argument rests on the idea that children are currently overburdened by long hours behind desks, and that this leaves little room for the kind of holistic growth he believes a nation needs. He pointed to what he described as the Finnish model, suggesting that Kenya could learn from a system that prioritizes balance over rote endurance. In his view, when pupils have more time outside the classroom, they can develop not only academically but also in character, in critical thinking, and in physical health.

Wajakoyah framed the proposal as both an educational and a social intervention. He argued that the current timetable, which often runs from early morning until late afternoon five or even six days a week, squeezes out opportunities for children to engage with their parents, to play, to rest, and to participate in community life. By cutting contact hours to four a day and limiting formal instruction to four days, he believes students would return home earlier and have Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays entirely to themselves. That time, he suggested, could be used for mentorship at home, for talent development, for chores that teach responsibility, and for rest that supports mental wellbeing.

The reference to Finland was deliberate. Finland’s education system is frequently cited globally for its shorter school days, minimal homework, and strong emphasis on play and teacher autonomy. Finnish children typically start school later, have frequent breaks, and spend fewer hours in formal lessons than their peers in many other countries, yet the country consistently ranks high in international assessments. Wajakoyah appeared to be borrowing that reputation to argue that academic excellence does not have to come at the cost of childhood. He suggested that Kenya’s obsession with long hours, extra tuition, and holiday coaching has created a generation that is academically fatigued rather than intellectually curious.

His statement also carries clear political timing. With national elections approaching next year, education has become one of the key battlegrounds in public debate. Parents across the country have been complaining about the cost of schooling, the pressure of examinations, and the amount of time children spend away from home. Teachers’ unions have raised concerns about workload and burnout. At the same time, policymakers have been grappling with curriculum reforms, capitation delays, and infrastructure gaps. By proposing a shorter week, Wajakoyah is positioning himself as the candidate willing to break with convention and to rethink the basic architecture of schooling.

Critics are likely to question the practicality of such a shift. Four hours of instruction per day over four days amounts to sixteen hours a week, far less than the current Kenyan timetable which often exceeds thirty hours. That raises immediate questions about syllabus coverage, especially in a system that is still largely examination-driven. The Kenya Certificate of Primary Education and the Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education remain high-stakes tests that determine progression, and parents may worry that less classroom time will translate to poorer performance. There is also the issue of equity. In many households, school provides not only learning but also meals, safety, and supervision. For working parents, a shorter day could create childcare challenges unless community structures step in to fill the gap.

Supporters, on the other hand, may welcome the proposal as a long-overdue correction. Child psychologists have for years argued that excessive academic pressure contributes to anxiety, depression, and a narrow definition of success. Sports coaches and arts organizations have complained that talent development is sidelined because there is simply no time in the week. Faith leaders and community elders have echoed similar sentiments, saying that moral formation happens more effectively in homes and places of worship than in crowded classrooms. From that perspective, Wajakoyah’s plan could be read as an attempt to restore balance and to recognize that education happens beyond the four walls of a school.

The Finland comparison will inevitably invite scrutiny. While Finland does have shorter days, it also invests heavily in teacher training, student welfare, and social support systems that Kenya does not yet have at the same scale. Finnish teachers are highly qualified and trusted to design learning, and the society provides extensive support for children outside school. Replicating the timetable without replicating the ecosystem could lead to very different outcomes. That distinction will likely feature prominently in the debate that follows.

Wajakoyah has built his public profile on bold, sometimes unconventional policy ideas. In previous campaigns he spoke about legalizing certain crops to boost revenue, about exporting hyena meat, and about restructuring government. Education had featured in his manifesto before, but this latest articulation is more specific and more radical in its departure from the status quo. By anchoring it to a timeline — “next year” — and to a concrete schedule, he is forcing voters and analysts to treat it as a real policy plank rather than a rhetorical flourish.

What happens next will depend on how the proposal is received by parents, teachers, and education experts. If it gains traction, the Ministry of Education would need to consider how to redesign the curriculum to fit into fewer hours, how to train teachers for more focused instruction, and how to ensure that learning outcomes do not suffer. Schools would need guidance on what to do with the freed-up time, and counties might be called upon to provide alternative programs for children on Fridays. The government would also have to communicate clearly to avoid the perception that standards are being lowered.

For now, the statement has set a marker in the election conversation. It challenges the assumption that more time in school automatically equals better education, and it asks Kenyans to imagine a different rhythm for childhood. Whether voters see that vision as practical or as idealistic remains to be seen, but it has succeeded in putting the question of time, balance, and purpose back on the national table. In a system that has long measured seriousness by the length of the school day, suggesting that less could actually be more is bound to provoke both hope and skepticism in equal measure.