The most effective career guidance is practical, not merely theoretical

Let us delve deeper!

The release of O Level and A Level results this month has ignited fierce national debate, exposing deeper structural weaknesses within our education system.

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Two issues dominated public discussion.

The first was the growing trend of A Level pupils studying and sitting for an excessive number of subjects—often more than six, with one pupil reportedly attempting a staggering twelve.

In response, authorities moved to cap the number of subjects to nine at O Level and three at A Level.

Predictably, this decision provoked outrage in some quarters, framed as state interference in personal choice and an assault on academic freedom.

Closely linked to this was a second, more fundamental concern: the glaring inadequacy of career guidance in our schools, particularly at secondary level.

Many argued that the reason some pupils register for such an outrageous number of A Level subjects is not brilliance or ambition, but confusion.

It reflects a lack of clarity about career direction at a critical stage of learning and human development.

I have previously written extensively on this issue, calling out authorities, educators, parents, and society at large for failing to guide our children meaningfully.

A Level is not just another academic hurdle; it is a transition point where learners are expected to begin specialising in preparation for higher education and professional life.

Yet we are witnessing a disturbing pattern of uncertainty, where pupils hedge their bets by doing “everything,” hoping something will eventually stick.

The global norm for university and college entry is three, sometimes four, A Level subjects.

This raises a simple but uncomfortable question: why would anyone need more?

While my views on this have attracted both agreement and criticism, what moved me most were the many parents who contacted me privately seeking advice on how to help their children.

I was equally humbled by messages from pupils themselves, asking for guidance.

It was these interactions that compelled me to write this piece—to share the advice I offered them, in the hope that it reaches many more families facing the same dilemma.

What became immediately clear from these conversations is that the biggest deficit in our education system is not intelligence or effort, but meaningful career guidance.

In many cases, children receive no career guidance at all throughout their entire schooling.

Even where it exists, it is largely theoretical.

Learners are told about careers, given lists of professions, informed of subject requirements, and perhaps shown motivational videos.

While this theoretical guidance is important, it has limits.

In my view, it has its proper place from primary school through to around Form Two or Three, when pupils are still discovering the world of work.

At this stage, exposure is key—learning what careers exist, what they involve, and what qualifications and attributes they require.

I remember growing up in the 1980s when schools regularly hosted career days.

Institutions and companies would set up stands, almost like a trade fair.

We would walk around listening to representatives explain what they did, the opportunities available, and the paths into their professions.

We could ask questions and engage directly. I am certain such initiatives still exist in some schools today.

However, what is largely missing—and what repeatedly emerged from my conversations with parents and pupils—is the practical side of career guidance.

This is where the debate around capping A Level subjects must be understood more carefully.

Yes, there is a legitimate concern about academic freedom and personal choice.

However, we must remember that these are still children.

Society already accepts limits on what minors can do, even when adults are free to do so.

We bar them from smoking, drinking alcohol, or consenting to sexual relations—not to punish them, but to protect them and guide them responsibly.

Why, then, is it considered outrageous to limit the number of A Level subjects, especially at a stage where learners are expected to specialise in line with their intended careers?

On paper, there is nothing inherently wrong with studying many subjects.

The problem arises when this comes at the expense of focus, depth, and practical preparation.

A Level should be a period when learners channel their time, energy, and resources towards preparing for specific career paths.

This is where practical career guidance becomes indispensable.

Instead of spreading themselves thin across subjects they will never use—and which universities will never consider—students should be using that time to understand their chosen professions in real, tangible ways.

Allow me to illustrate this with a personal example.

By junior high school, I already knew I wanted to be a writer.

In Form Two, together with my late best friend Brian Taurai Murau, I produced a handwritten newspaper we called The MurMbof Times.

When I reached Form Three in 1989, I approached the editor of a local Kwekwe weekly newspaper, The Midlands Observer, Felix Moyo, and asked to be a cub reporter.

To my surprise, he agreed.

I had no idea what even an intro was, but journalists like Flata Kavinga, Remington Jarijari, and Vincent Rangwe patiently mentored me.

By Form Five in 1991, I approached Dominic Mazango, editor  and owner of The Midweek News, and asked to write a weekly column.

Again, he agreed.

That is how I began The Un-Oppressed Mind, a fiery critique of government policies, particularly the Economic Structural Adjustment Programme, whose devastating impact I witnessed firsthand in Redcliff as Ziscosteel workers were thrown into poverty.

I even exposed corruption at my high school over the purchase of a bus, earning myself the label “Judas Iscariot” from an angry headmaster.

The point of this brief autobiography is simple: during my A Level years, I was not merely studying subjects; I was actively learning my chosen profession.

By the time I went to journalism school, I was already confident that this was my calling, with some practical grounding to back it up.

Now consider a contrasting example.

A schoolmate of ours, widely regarded as a genius, studied Mathematics, Physics, and Chemistry, with the clear intention of becoming a medical doctor.

He passed his A Levels with flying colours and was admitted to medical school.

Everything went well—until the day students were required to operate on a cadaver.

He panicked, bolted out of the lab, and soon switched to engineering.

While this may sound humorous, it exposes a serious flaw.

He had theoretical career guidance—he knew the subjects required and the prestige of the profession—but lacked practical exposure.

A few months volunteering at a hospital during his A Level years would likely have revealed that medicine was not for him.

This is the heart of the matter.

Practical career guidance means allowing learners to experience, observe, and engage with the realities of their chosen fields before committing their lives to them.

Some aspiring medical professionals are repulsed by blood.

Some would-be engineers hate fieldwork.

Some future lawyers loathe reading.

Without practical exposure, these truths only emerge too late.

A Level pupils should be encouraged to volunteer, intern, or attach themselves—however informally—to workplaces aligned with their ambitions.

That is where real learning happens.

That is also why the obsession with doing ten or twelve A Level subjects makes little sense.

Once a child is properly guided, practically, there is simply no time—or need—for such excess.

And that, ultimately, is why the most effective career guidance is practical, not merely theoretical.