The Atlantic

“In Gaza, as in much of the world, September usually means sharpened pencils, pressed uniforms, and the first day of class,” Ghada Abdulfattah writes. “This year, the month arrived with bombed-out buildings, new displacement orders, and worsening famine.” theatln.tc/ZUfpyWEe

Abdulfattah spent a day in the classroom of Alaa Abu Sabt, a teacher in the southern city of Khan Younis. Her class of about 20 students was gathered “in what everyone in their camp calls ‘the educational tent’—though the only signs that the structure was being used as a school were some pencils, stacks of loose paper, a single jar of crayons, and a blackboard, balanced precariously between two broken chairs,” Abdulfattah writes. According to Alaa, “It feels like a luxury to even imagine” basic school supplies such as textbooks and backpacks.

“That morning, a water truck from an aid organization had arrived, and most of the students had been busy waiting in line and hauling jerricans back to their tents,” Abdulfattah continues. “Some slipped into class late, dusty and out of breath … Hunger is constant. Parents sometimes send their children to the school tent just to distract them from their empty stomachs.”

Palestine has one of the highest literacy rates in the world—98 percent. But now, education is necessarily a lower priority in Gaza than safety, food, water, and medical care, Abdulfattah writes. Many of the children in Alaa’s classes don’t even know what grade they should be in. “Before the war, I was supposed to be in first grade,” a young girl named Manal said. “Now … I don’t know. Maybe second. No, third.”

“On the day I visited, Alaa was teaching math when the air filled with the low buzz of Israeli surveillance drones, followed by the thud of nearby explosions,” Abdulfattah writes. “Alaa waited until the bombing stopped, and then resumed her lesson.”

📸: Ghada Abdulfattah

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