What Should We Call a Teacher?

Written by Olalekan Simeon Alabi

We have become accustomed to these little letters and abbreviations preceding people’s names. They are small, but they carry weight.

They tell us something before the person has even introduced himself.

Dr. suggests medicine or, in some contexts, a doctoral qualification.
Engr. points to engineering.
Barr. has long been associated with legal practice in Nigeria.
Arc. identifies the architect.

A few letters. A whole profession.

But what happens when we meet a professionally certified teacher?

What does a certified teacher bear?

Perhaps the answer, for now, is simply a name.

Mr. Simeon. Mrs. Aisha. Mr. Ibrahim.

And then we tell them something else:

“Teaching is a noble profession.”
“Teachers are nation builders.”
“Their reward is in heaven.”

These expressions are familiar. They are often spoken with genuine affection. But perhaps we should pause and ask a slightly uncomfortable question:

Why is teaching so often described in the language of sacrifice, while other professions are more readily described in the language of professional identity?

There is nothing wrong with calling teaching noble. There is nothing wrong with celebrating the teacher as a nation builder. And for those who draw comfort from faith, there is certainly nothing wrong with believing that a teacher’s ultimate reward extends beyond a payslip.

But a profession cannot live on applause alone.

A teacher can be noble and professional.

A teacher can serve humanity and possess specialised expertise.

A teacher can shape lives and deserve a clearly recognisable professional identity.

Teaching Is a Profession

Consider what is actually required to become a professional teacher.

Teaching is not simply knowing Mathematics and explaining Mathematics. It is not simply knowing English and standing before a class.

There is curriculum knowledge. Pedagogical knowledge. Assessment. Classroom management. Child development. Differentiation. Communication. Professional ethics. Continuous development. Safeguarding. Planning. Reflection. And the ability to make hundreds of decisions in a classroom that rarely appear in a lesson plan.

In Nigeria, the professional structure is not imaginary.

The Teachers Registration Council of Nigeria (TRCN) exists to register, certify, license and regulate teachers. TRCN states that registration is a legal requirement for teachers working in Nigerian schools, and its current national register contains approximately 1.63 million certified teachers.

TRCN’s own professional framework goes further. It provides for professional induction, registration, licensing and continuing professional development. Its Certification and Licensing Department includes an Induction Division and Oath Taking ceremony.

So the teacher is not simply someone who happens to know a subject.

There is already a profession.
There are already standards.
There is already a regulatory body.
There is already certification.
There is already licensing.
There is even an oath.

What seems to be missing is the visible badge of professional identity.

A Proposal: “Tr.”

This is where I would like to propose something. Not as an official title. Not as a demand. Not as a replacement for the existing TRCN designation.

A proposal.

What if professionally certified teachers, after completing their induction into the profession, were formally called to the teaching profession?

Much like the language of Call to the Bar in the legal profession, a teacher who has completed the necessary professional requirements and induction could be welcomed into the profession with a formal Call to Teaching or Call to the Teaching Profession.

Even if its existing, what if that professional identity had a simple appellation:

Tr.

So instead of:

Mr. Simeon

we could have:

Tr. Simeon

Instead of:

Mrs. Aisha

we could have:

Tr. Aisha

Not because the two letters magically make the teacher more competent.

But because symbols matter.

Language matters.

Recognition matters.

Professional Identity Matters

Think about what happens when a doctor introduces himself as Dr. Okafor. Nobody needs a five-minute explanation of what the Dr. means. The title is a linguistic shortcut. It communicates training, professional identity and, depending on the context, qualification.

The same happens with other professions.

We have created a culture in which certain professions arrive with their professional identity already attached to their names.

Why should teaching be different?

And here is the irony:

Almost every one of those professionals was once somebody’s student.

The doctor had a teacher.
The engineer had a teacher.
The lawyer had a teacher.
The architect had a teacher.
The professor had a teacher.
The entrepreneur had a teacher.
Even the teacher had a teacher.

Before they carried titles, they carried school bags.

Before they entered operating theatres, courtrooms, construction sites and boardrooms, they sat behind desks.

Someone taught them how to read the prescription. Someone taught them how to calculate the load. Someone taught them how to construct the argument. Someone taught them how to read the drawing.

The teacher often stands at the beginning of professional journeys without receiving a corresponding professional marker at the end of his or her own training.

That deserves a conversation.

But Isn’t “Teacher” Already a Title?

Of course it is.

And that is precisely the point.

The problem is not that teacher is an inferior word. Far from it.

The problem is that we sometimes use the word so casually that we forget the professional preparation behind it.

Anyone can say:

“I can teach.”

But knowing something and knowing how to teach it are not necessarily the same thing.

A person who knows Chemistry is not automatically a Chemistry teacher.

A person who speaks English is not automatically an English Language teacher.

A person who is good with children is not automatically a trained educator.

Subject knowledge is one thing. Pedagogical expertise is another.

The distinction matters.

After all, we would hardly argue that because someone can use a stethoscope, they should automatically be called a doctor.

Why should teaching be held to a different standard?

The Two Letters Are Not the Point

Let me be clear: “Tr.” is not the revolution.

If tomorrow morning we woke up and every certified teacher in Nigeria had Tr. placed before their name, but teachers were still poorly supported, poorly developed, poorly remunerated and excluded from important educational decisions, the two letters would quickly become decoration.

A title cannot fix a profession.

But a title can symbolise a profession. And symbols are not insignificant.

The national jersey does not make an athlete an athlete. The coat does not make the doctor a doctor. The courtroom wig does not make the lawyer a lawyer.

Yet professional symbols help societies recognise professional identity.

Perhaps the teacher deserves one too.

From “Noble” to “Professional”

Maybe it is time to expand the vocabulary we use when we speak about teachers.

Let us still call teaching noble when it is noble.

Let us still call teachers nation builders when they build nations.

But let us also call them what they are: professionals.

Let us speak about their expertise. Let us celebrate their certification. Let us recognise their induction. Let us encourage continuous professional development. Let us make professional standards visible.

And perhaps, someday, let us formally call them into the profession.

Imagine the Moment

Imagine a graduation hall.

A group of newly certified educators sits before their mentors and families.

Their names are called.

They rise.

They take their professional oath.

They are formally inducted.

And then comes the simple declaration:

“You are hereby admitted into the teaching profession.”

From that day, perhaps, Tr. Simeon is no longer merely Simeon who teaches.

He is a recognised member of a profession.

Tr. Aisha is not simply Aisha who works in a school.

She is a certified professional educator.

It may sound like a small change.

But sometimes, a small change in language opens the door to a much larger change in perception.

The Question Before Us

Perhaps the real question is not:

“What title should we give teachers?”

Perhaps it is:

“What does a profession look like when society has certified its members but has not given that professional identity a visible name?”

If teaching is a profession, let us speak of it like one.

If teachers are professionals, let us recognise them as professionals.

If induction marks entry into the profession, let us give that moment the dignity it deserves.

And if we already have the standards, the certification, the licence, the register, the oath and the professional body, perhaps we are not inventing something from nothing.

Perhaps we are simply giving a name to what already exists.

Maybe one day, “Tr.” will stand before a teacher’s name—not as a decoration, but as a declaration:

• This person is trained to teach.
• This person is certified to teach.
• This person has been called into the profession of teaching.
• This person is a professional educator.