In Gaza City, the sound of children finally going to school can be heard again.
The tents that now serve as classrooms are noisy and a little chaotic, but full of life. Some teachers point to blackboards covered in English letters; others invite students to come forward and write Arabic words.
It's not a normal school day at all. But after the Israel-Hamas ceasefire in October, it's a start.
After two years of war, the sound of lessons and classmates' chatter echoes around the ruins of what was once the Lulwa Abdel Wahab al-Qatami School, in the Tel al-Hawa neighborhood in the southwestern part of Gaza City.
It was struck in January 2024 and, for months afterward, its territory served as a shelter for displaced families. Today, it is once again a place of learning – albeit in a more basic form.
Walking in a straight line, their little arms resting on each other's shoulders, the students smile as they head to their makeshift classrooms.
For many, this is the first return to routine and education since the war began.
According to UNICEF, more than 97% of schools in Gaza were damaged or destroyed during the war. The IDF has made repeated allegations that Hamas uses civilian infrastructure, including schools, to conduct operations, but has rarely provided hard evidence.
Of the Strip’s 658,000 school-age children, most have had no formal education for nearly two years. During that time, many of them learned firsthand how hunger, displacement, and death can affect their young lives. Now, something rare is emerging: a fragile glimpse of the childhood they once had.
Fourteen-year-old Naeem al-Asmaar attended this school before it was destroyed. He lost his mother in an Israeli airstrike during the war.
"It was the hardest thing I've ever experienced," he says in a low voice.
Despite being displaced for months, Naeem's home in Gaza City survived. After the ceasefire, he returned with his family.
"I missed school a lot," said Naeem, adding that the change is huge.
“Before the war, school was held in real classrooms. Now we are in tents. We only study four subjects. There is not enough space. The education is not the same – but being here matters. School fills up all my time and I really needed it,” he said.
Rital Alaa Harb, a ninth-grade student who once studied here, wants to become a dentist.
"The move completely affected my education. There was no time to study. No school. I missed my friends so much – and I miss my old school," she said.
The makeshift school is run by UNICEF and brings together children from the original Lulwa school and others displaced by the war.
The entire Palestinian curriculum is not taught – just the basics: Arabic, English, math, and science.
The director, Dr. Mohammed Saeed Schheiber, has worked in education for 24 years. He took over the management of the site in mid-November.
“We set out with determination,” he said, “to compensate students for what they lost.”
The school currently serves 1,100 boys and girls, working three shifts a day – with boys attending classes on alternate days from girls. There are only 24 teachers.
“Before the war,” says Dr. Schheiber, “our students learned in fully equipped schools – science labs, computer labs, internet access, educational resources. All of that is gone.”
There's no electricity here. There's no internet. And many children are dealing with trauma.
More than 100 students at the school lost one or both parents, had their homes destroyed or witnessed killings during the war. In total, says Dr. Schheiber, every student has been affected – directly or indirectly.
A counselor now conducts psychological support sessions, trying to help the children process what they have endured.
Despite efforts, demand far exceeds capacity.
“We have more than a thousand students here already,” says Dr. Schheiber. “But only six classes per shift. There is a big displacement camp next to the school – families from northern and eastern Gaza. Many children want to enroll. We simply cannot accept them.”
