Back to School in Gaza: A Fragile Return to Learning

Early Mornings and First Days Back

On a crisp Saturday morning in Gaza City, Rana Totah walked her two sons to their new school, a temporary setup in a cluster of tents. For her, this return to education was more than just the start of another academic year—it represented a reclamation of family life disrupted by nearly three years of conflict.

When the war erupted in October 2023, Totah's neighborhood in Gaza City's Zeitoun district was transformed into a battlefield. The family was displaced to al-Katiba, and like many others, they adapted to a new reality where survival often took precedence over schooling. Education became intermittent at best, with children helping with water collection and household duties instead of attending classes.

"Honestly, today was a beautiful day for me. It even felt like Eid," Totah said. "I prepared my children, they were excited and they went to bed early. I prepared them as if it were a normal school day."

The Gaza Municipality had converted ten tents into classrooms—a temporary measure that marked the beginning of what officials described as a fragile return to learning.

Rebuilding Lives, One Tent at a Time

According to the Palestinian Ministry of Education and Higher Education, approximately 541,000 students returned to face-to-face education in Gaza when the new school year began on September 19. This figure is a glimmer of hope amidst an overwhelming backdrop of destruction.

Yet, despite some progress, nearly 98% of schools in Gaza had been damaged since October 2023, with over 93% requiring major repairs or full reconstruction, as reported by UNICEF. The war's toll extends beyond physical structures—it has decimated the social fabric of learning.

Nesma Nahid Abu Asim, a mathematics teacher who has been part of the Ministry of Education since 2010, now teaches through a UNICEF program. Her classroom is a tent where children sit on mattresses with notebooks and write on whiteboards. "Education is a right for every student," she said, reflecting her unwavering commitment despite limited resources.

Abu Asim highlighted a key issue: the lack of basic materials like textbooks and stationery. "The student comes to school today in a dangerous situation, in a war situation," she noted, underscoring how the context of learning has fundamentally changed.

The Limits of Resilience

While children like 11-year-old Osama Alayleh are eager to return to school and perform well academically, their current conditions pose significant challenges. Osama ranks third in his class and hopes to finish the year first, but his classroom is a tent with no desks or chairs. "I'm happy that I'm back at school," he told Al Jazeera, "but what can we do? It's OK. The important thing is that we study."

His optimism underscores the determination of young minds, even under adverse circumstances. But it also reveals a harsh reality: for students and teachers alike, learning in tents has become the norm.

A School Without Desks

At Ahbab Shujayea School, located near Gaza City's port area, students are taught on the ground using pieces of cardboard as writing surfaces. The school, which houses more than 300 students from first to sixth grade, has been reduced to tents due to Israeli shelling and ongoing siege conditions.

Director Inaam al-Batreekhi explained that school supplies, including notebooks and pencils, have been banned from entering Gaza. "We can study today, we can sit on the ground today. But tomorrow, when the rain comes, we won't be able to," she said, illustrating how fragile even this temporary arrangement is.

She emphasized the need for a return to traditional school buildings—"All the schools have become tents," she lamented. "In previous wars, we would miss school for a month or two, then return and find our school as it was. We would clean it, organise it and go back to studying. Now, returning to schools like that is almost impossible in the blink of an eye."

Human Cost, Human Hope

The situation in Gaza is not just a story of war-torn infrastructure—it's a story of children who are missing out on years of formal education and teachers who are doing their best under impossible conditions. The economic and social consequences extend far beyond the classroom.

What we're witnessing is more than a crisis in education; it's a humanitarian one. As Christopher Lang, a global business analyst, would observe, markets affect people as much as profits. And in this case, the cost of education has become a measure of how deeply conflict impacts human lives.

But even amidst this tragedy, there is resilience. Teachers like Abu Asim continue to educate with minimal resources. Students like Osama continue to dream of success despite limited opportunities. And leaders like al-Batreekhi persist in trying to make conditions better for the children who need it most.

While we must recognize the enormity of what's been lost, we also have a responsibility to keep advocating for the basic rights that education represents. As these young minds work through textbooks on cardboard and learn in the shadow of conflict, their journey reminds us all that behind every policy decision or geopolitical narrative lies a human story—one worth telling, protecting, and restoring.