Naghm Karaja

Gaza — In a moment that seems exceptional amid the vortex of siege and the erosion of all aspects of life, Al-Kamiliya School, east of Gaza City, has rekindled the flame of education after more than two years of total interruption. The school has transformed from a dilapidated building constructed eight decades ago into a space where the fundamentals of childhood—confiscated by war—are being reclaimed. Between its ancient stones and the near-total absence of educational infrastructure, an educational initiative emerged in one of the most dangerous areas, as an attempt to wrest back children’s right to learn and to repair what can still be salvaged of their near future.

Teacher Dina Abu Shaaban, who leads this effort, speaks with a voice overflowing with what resembles a victory over despair, saying:
“Opening the school was a window through which new light poured in for thousands of students, especially those who never had their basic opportunity to learn during their early years. We started from nothing; we didn’t find a single desk or a blackboard inside the classrooms. All we had were a few pieces of cardboard that we used for explanation, while the children sat on the floor. Despite that, we continued working and within months we managed to accommodate more than a thousand children in morning and afternoon shifts, after providing simple desks and writing boards.”

Although the school—built of Jerusalem stone and dating back several decades—lacks most facilities and teaching tools, its psychological impact on the children has been evident. The school’s heritage-style building has brought them back to an atmosphere of normal education, as if they were holding onto a thin thread linking their turbulent present to a more stable past.

Dina Abu Shaaban says the school has also revived the school-life rituals the children had missed:
“We implement a school radio program and commemorate national occasions; the latest was Independence Day. These small details make a huge difference to the morale of students who are living through an open war.”

The school is almost the only one to have resumed activity east of the city, despite the constant danger caused by its proximity to cranes and positions of Israeli forces, which fire shells and bullets toward the area from time to time. Nevertheless, she says:
“We live in fear every minute, but our determination has proven stronger than this terror. Our children deserve a chance at life, and we will not allow their right to be taken from them again.”

Dina Abu Shaaban and her team—most of whom are women—are working to develop the school to accommodate more students by presenting clear plans to humanitarian organizations and donor agencies, hoping to obtain tools and materials that will help complete the educational process. She points out that the role of women in reviving education has been pivotal:
“Without the women who stood on the front lines and exerted effort beyond their capacity, we would not have been able to restore education in this place. Here, a woman is not only a teacher; she is a leader, a supporter, and an inspiration.”

She believes that this women-led effort is an example of the ability of Palestinian women, in times of collapse, to build alternative systems in the absence of official institutions:
“This experience did not only restore education; it showed that women are the foundation of social revival and the pillar of life in times of war.”

 

“What did we do to deserve such a harsh life?”

Amid this scene, the voices of children emerge—those whose schools were destroyed and who lost their right to the years most crucial for cognitive and emotional development. Eight-year-old Jouri Sukkar stands near one of the tattered tents and says in a tone mixing complaint and hope:
“We have the right to learn like all children in the world. We want real classrooms and desks to sit on, not to write on the ground or in tents. What did we do to deserve living this harsh life and being deprived of safety, education, and play?”

Nearby, another child, Renad Radi—who lost her home in the most recent bombardment—adds:
“I love school so much, and I dream of becoming a teacher. We are tired of displacement and living amid fear and shells. We want a place where we can learn without the sound of airplanes. We want to feel like children.”

These small voices, carrying an awareness beyond their years, become a clear mirror of the scale of the educational gap that has accumulated over two years. The children who joined Al-Kamiliya School today are not only seeking education, but also their right to reassurance and to a space that protects their dreams from collapse.

 

Interruption leaves an impact on cognitive development

Educational specialists working within the initiative indicate that prolonged interruption of education leaves deep effects on children’s cognitive and emotional development and later makes it difficult to integrate them into advanced academic stages—especially in the absence of interactive learning tools, resources, and activities that are fundamental to shaping a child’s personality and self-confidence. Under such circumstances, women’s initiatives in the education sector become a pillar of community rescue, not merely individual efforts.

At Al-Kamiliya School, women work as a link between the present and the future, carrying out educational, organizational, and administrative tasks at the same time. They repair classrooms, prepare courtyards, rearrange old stones to create safe passageways, compensate for the shortage of teaching staff through self-training, and invent alternative teaching methods in the absence of traditional tools. Alongside all this, they continue to shoulder their family roles amid conditions of displacement.

Depriving Gaza’s children of education for the third consecutive year constitutes a blatant violation of international standards that guarantee a child’s right to uninterrupted learning—a right that must not be compromised under any circumstances. The continued closure of schools, destruction of educational facilities, and conversion of some into shelters or military positions has created a massive knowledge gap that cannot be easily compensated, leaving thousands of children outside the natural course of their psychological, intellectual, and social development.

This is no longer merely a temporary halt in the educational process; it has become a de facto policy that undermines children’s ability to build their future and threatens an entire generation with the loss of basic skills that form the cornerstone of any society capable of recovery. In the absence of effective international protection, children are paying a heavy price in the form of lost years of schooling and eroded chances to achieve their dreams—underscoring the urgent need to restore the right to education as a humanitarian necessity inseparable from a child’s right to a dignified and safe life.