In the heart of Gaza City, a remarkable transformation is unfolding. Amidst the ruins of war, the echoes of childhood innocence and education are resurfacing. The sound of learning fills the air once more, offering a glimmer of hope in a region that has known little peace.
Tents, now serving as classrooms, buzz with a unique brand of energy. Teachers guide students through the basics, from English letters to Arabic words, creating a lively yet challenging learning environment. This is not a typical school day, but it marks a significant step forward after the Israel-Hamas ceasefire in October.
The Lulwa Abdel Wahab al-Qatami School, once a vibrant hub of learning in the Tel al-Hawa neighborhood, now stands as a testament to resilience. After enduring two years of war and serving as a shelter for displaced families, it has reopened its doors, albeit in a more rudimentary form.
Students, arms linked, smile as they enter these makeshift classrooms, eager to embrace a sense of normalcy and education they've been denied since the war began. According to Unicef, over 97% of schools in Gaza suffered damage or destruction during the conflict, leaving an entire generation of children without formal education.
The IDF has asserted that Hamas utilized civilian infrastructure, including schools, for military operations, but solid evidence to support these claims has been scarce. For the 658,000 school-aged children in the Strip, the past two years have been a blur of hunger, displacement, and the harsh reality of death.
Naeem al-Asmaar, a 14-year-old who attended this school before its destruction, lost his mother in an Israeli air strike. "It was the hardest thing I've ever been through," he says, a quiet reminder of the trauma these children have endured.
Despite months of displacement, Naeem's home in Gaza City survived, and he returned with his family after the ceasefire. "I missed being in school a lot," he adds, highlighting the stark contrast between his pre-war and current educational experiences. "Before, school was in real classrooms. Now, it's tents. We only study four subjects, and there's not enough space. The education is different, but being here is important. School fills my time, and I needed that."
Rital Alaa Harb, a ninth-grade student with similar experiences, dreams of becoming a dentist. "Displacement affected my education completely. There was no time to study, no schools. I missed my friends so much, and I miss my old school," she shares.
The makeshift school, a collaboration between Unicef and the original Lulwa school, caters to displaced children affected by the war. It offers a basic curriculum, covering Arabic, English, mathematics, and science, a far cry from the comprehensive Palestinian curriculum these students once knew.
Dr. Mohammed Saeed Schheiber, the principal with 24 years of educational experience, took over the management of this site in mid-November. "We started with determination to compensate students for their losses," he explains. With just 24 teachers, the school operates in three shifts daily, accommodating 1,100 boys and girls, with boys and girls attending on alternating days.
"Before the war, our students learned in fully equipped schools with science labs, computer labs, internet access, and educational resources. All of that is gone now," Dr. Schheiber laments. The challenges are numerous: no electricity, no internet, and many children struggling with trauma.
Over 100 students at the school have lost parents, had their homes destroyed, or witnessed killings during the war. Every student, Dr. Schheiber emphasizes, has been affected, either directly or indirectly. A counsellor leads psychological support sessions, attempting to help these children process their experiences.
Despite these efforts, demand far exceeds capacity. "We already have over a thousand students, but only six classrooms per shift. There's a large displacement camp next to the school, with families from northern and eastern Gaza. Many children want to enroll, but we simply cannot accommodate them all," Dr. Schheiber explains.
For parents, the return to school brings a mix of relief and anxiety. Huda Bassam al-Dasouki, a mother of five displaced from southern Rimal, describes education as an overwhelming challenge. "It's not that education doesn't exist; it's that it's extremely difficult," she says.
Even before the war, schools struggled with shortages, and now, basic supplies are either unaffordable or unavailable. "A notebook that cost one shekel before the war now costs five. I have five children," she explains. Some children, she adds, have fallen four years behind, including time lost during the Covid pandemic.
"My son can't read or write. He doesn't know how to copy from the board," she shares, a stark reminder of the educational gaps that have emerged.
Unicef highlights that the situation is exacerbated by restrictions on aid supplies entering Gaza. Jonathan Crickx, a Unicef spokesman, standing outside one of the school tents, points to the missing essentials: "Paper, notebooks, pens, erasers, rulers... we've been asking for these supplies to enter the Gaza Strip, but they haven't been allowed in. The same goes for mental health and psychosocial recreative kits—toy kits for mental health activities and recreational engagement with the children."
An Israeli security official directed inquiries to the prime minister's office, which did not respond to the BBC's questions. Israel maintains that it is fulfilling its obligations under the ceasefire deal with Hamas and facilitating increased aid deliveries. However, the UN and multiple aid agencies dispute this, accusing Israel of continuing to restrict access to essential supplies.
Despite the ceasefire, Israel's bombardment of Gaza persists, with almost daily strikes in response to alleged Hamas violations of the deal. Yet, the children continue to arrive, a testament to their resilience and the importance they place on education.
For Kholoud Habib, a teacher at the school, this determination is inspiring. "Education is our foundation, our capital as Palestinians. We lose homes, money, and everything, but knowledge is the one investment we can still give our children," she says.
And this is the part most people miss: amidst the rubble and trauma, these children are rebuilding their futures, one lesson at a time. But here's where it gets controversial: with limited resources, trauma, and ongoing conflict, can Gaza's children truly access the education they deserve? What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comments!
