Students’ Protest for Unpaid Teachers Turns Chaotic as Police Use Teargas, Leaving Future of Liberia’s Youth in Peril”

Monrovia, Liberia: On a day when the air should have been filled with the sound of youthful energy and the hope of a better tomorrow, it was instead choked by the stinging haze of teargas. The scene in the streets of Liberia’s capital, Monrovia, was heart-wrenching—a clear reflection of the broken system that has failed its future.

The students, who had once filled classrooms with the promise of progress, now found themselves in the streets, their faces marked by frustration and desperation. They had taken to the streets on Tuesday, their protest born from a deep sorrow—a sorrow for their teachers, unpaid for far too long, and for the future that seemed to be slipping further from their grasp with every passing day. The students, still in their uniforms, their eyes wide with confusion and fear, were demanding what should have been a basic right: the assurance that the people entrusted with shaping their minds would be properly compensated.

As the protest grew, so did the tension, until the sharp, bitter sting of teargas pierced through the air. What followed was chaos, a scene too raw to ignore. The students—once hopeful, now bewildered and helpless—ran through the streets, their lungs burning as they coughed in distress. Some fell to their knees, caught in the suffocating smoke, their faces contorted in pain. They were not just fighting for their teachers, but for their futures. Yet, in the blink of an eye, they had become victims of a system that viewed their cries for help as a threat.

In the midst of the turmoil, the main roads between the Capitol Building and the Executive Mansion—once symbols of power and governance—were blocked by a wave of young voices pleading for change. The protest wasn’t just about unpaid salaries. It was about the very heart of Liberia’s education system, which, like the weary faces of the students, had been neglected and overlooked for far too long. The future of the nation was being stifled by a lack of support for its most vital foundation: the teachers who dedicated their lives to shaping the minds of the next generation.

As the protests continued, some students found themselves helpless against the harshness of the teargas, struggling to catch their breath amidst the thick smoke. Their cries, their pleas, seemed to vanish into the wind. It was an unbearable sight—a generation, once hopeful, now grappling with the bitter taste of neglect.

Despite repeated attempts to reach out to Gregory Coleman, the Inspector General of the Liberia National Police, no response came. The silence from those in power spoke volumes. The government, it seemed, remained unmoved by the cries of its people, its students, its future.

In the wake of this, the Liberia National Students’ Union (LINSU) issued a statement, their voices rising in condemnation against the government’s continuous disregard for the educational system. They denounced the conditions under which students and teachers alike were forced to operate—wage irregularities, dilapidated schools, and the lack of basic resources. They argued, with growing frustration, that the government’s inaction was not just negligence—it was an assault on the very future of Liberia’s youth.

And yet, even as students were scattered in the streets, suffocating in the aftermath of teargas, their message remained clear: their fight was not just for themselves, but for the nation’s future, a future that seemed to slip further away with every tear gas canister fired into the air. Their sorrow was not just personal—it was collective, a sorrow shared by all those who had dreamed of a better Liberia, but who now watched helplessly as that dream seemed to crumble beneath their feet.