
When my article on alumni giving was published in the Business and Financial Times on March 19, I anticipated it would resonate—but I didn’t expect just how deeply. From Bolgatanga to Takoradi, Aflao to Axim, WhatsApp groups lit up with alumni eager to say: “That’s our story too.”
Old students from mixed schools, all-girls’ schools, and all-boys’ schools shared photos, milestones, and anecdotes about classroom blocks, libraries, science labs, and life-changing scholarships—built not just with money, but with memory, commitment, and love.
Yet, beneath the celebrations, a sobering set of questions kept surfacing:
How do we keep this going?
Have we bitten off more than we can chew?
Why are alumni being relied on to do this year in and year out?
What is the government doing? Are we simply stepping in to do its job?
It’s clear that real impact shouldn’t end with an anniversary. It should be sustained—through structures that make financial, infrastructural, cultural, and community sense. And those structures must evolve to reflect the identity and capacity of each school and graduating class.
What Happens After the Ribbons Are Cut?
Most secondary school alumni groups have established milestone markers—20, 30, 40, even 50 years after graduation—around which year groups rally to give back. The energy is often remarkable: science labs are built, dining halls refurbished, boreholes installed, fiber optic cables laid. But once the headlines fade and the ribbons are cut, momentum often wanes.
Without systems to maintain interest, transparency, and continuity, the same groups that once raised hundreds of thousands of cedis find themselves asking: What next?
For schools with long histories, where year groups queue up behind each other every few years, it’s tempting to assume that one group can simply “retire” after completing its legacy project—leaving the next class to take over. But does that mean there’s nothing more to contribute beyond money and monuments?
The answer lies not in more fanfare, but in better frameworks. Good intentions are not enough. Alumni engagement needs architecture—something that allows groups to evolve from builders into mentors, from givers into guides. Something that can be passed on, built upon, and, crucially, understood by the next wave of alumni ready to serve.
Structures That Make Sense
The most sustainable alumni efforts aren’t necessarily the flashiest. They rest on solid, practical foundations that support long-term commitment. Four pillars, in particular, emerge in such discussions. What matters is:
- Financial Sustainability
- Transparent systems of contributions—monthly levies, annual drives, or digital platforms with real-time tracking.
- Endowment or trust funds that allow year groups to pool resources beyond a single celebration.
- Infrastructure Planning
- Maintenance plans baked into every project from the start.
- Clear partnerships with school leadership to ensure alignment with long-term development priorities.
- Community Engagement
- Alumni associations that transcend year-group silos and foster intergenerational collaboration.
- Peer mentorship between older and younger alumni to transfer knowledge and leadership values.
- Cultural Connection
- A strong sense of identity and pride, kept alive through storytelling, traditions, and alumni-student interaction.
- Recognition of non-monetary contributions—volunteering, mentorship, mobilizing professional networks.
These are the structures that allow a single act of giving to ripple outward—and forward.
Designing for the Next Generation: Leadership, Inclusion, and Innovation
Today’s alumni base is more diverse than ever—retirees and recent graduates, local professionals and diaspora members, those who give generously and those who give in kind. This richness brings opportunity, but also complexity. Sustaining alumni engagement in this evolving landscape requires more than enthusiasm; it requires leadership—thoughtful, inclusive, and strategic leadership.
Unfortunately, many alumni groups struggle here.
In some circles, leadership roles become lifetime appointments—not by design, but by default. The same individuals are called upon year after year because no one else seems willing to step up. It’s not always a lack of interest. Often, it’s the fear of not measuring up to the group that came before. Or the fatigue of watching leaders burn out while juggling the demands of work, family, and fundraising.
So we must ask:
What makes alumni afraid to lead?
Is it the ever-looming expectation to raise even more than the last group?
Is it the lack of clear systems and support to make leadership feel doable—and sustainable?
If we are to widen the circle of alumni participation, we need to shift the leadership model. That means:
- Redefining success so it includes organizing processes, fostering relationships, and setting up systems—not just delivering a bigger cheque or monument.
- Investing in succession planning, so that leadership is rotated, refreshed, and passed on with dignity and support.
- Normalizing collaborative leadership, where co-chairs or shared roles reduce the burden on one person.
And crucially, we must rethink recognition. What if we celebrated not only the headline donations, but the quiet work behind the scenes—the time given, the ideas shared, the professional networks tapped, the long-term loyalty demonstrated?
Because if we only measure alumni contributions in cedis and cement, we risk overlooking the very glue that holds these communities together; the people, the memories, and the shared identity rooted in the alma mater itself.
In the coming weeks, I’ll be spotlighting schools whose alumni are doing just that—leading with vision, giving with purpose, and working hard to build structures that last.
Stay tuned. The stories are just beginning…
The post Beyond the Big Gift: Sustaining alumni engagement in Ghanaian secondary schools appeared first on The Business & Financial Times.
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