With 97% of schools destroyed or damaged, 600,000 children have just begun their third year out of formal education. Three students and a teacher share their stories – and their hopes
Juwayriya Adwan, 12, al-Mawasi, Khan Younis
It has been two years since I was last inside a real classroom. Two years since I heard the morning bell at Khawla Bint al-Azwar school, sat at my desk and raised my hand during my favourite class. Sometimes I still vividly remember the sounds and smells: chalk dust, pencil shavings, laughter echoing down the halls. But my school no longer exists; it was bombed by the Israelis soon after the war began. My books were burned, and some of my friends killed.
I was in fifth grade on 7 October: the last day I went to school. That morning, air raid sirens screamed through the corridors. Some children cried, others held hands tightly. Our teacher tried to calm us, but even her voice trembled. I remember wishing for a normal day; lessons, recess, a poem recital. Instead, that day became the last page of my old life.
Now I live with my parents, two brothers and sister in a crowded shelter in al-Mawasi, Khan Younis. The tent walls flap in the wind, keeping neither cold nor heat away. We queue for water and food. Electricity is a dream and privacy doesn’t exist. Hope feels fragile.
