Last week in Gaza, half a million children went back to school after a summer of war. The academic year started late; among other things, authorities had to check buildings for unexploded ordnance and scrub schools that had been used to shelter hundreds of thousands of displaced families.
Among the students returning to class was 16-year-old Wala'a Abdelkas, a sophomore from Gaza's al-Bureij refugee camp.
A big, pink plastic watch peeked out from under the sleeve of her long, dark school uniform as she walked arm-in-arm with a friend through the courtyard. The building was unfamiliar; her neighborhood school was destroyed in the war. With dozens of schools still sheltering people, destroyed or simply too damaged to use, classrooms are more overcrowded than usual.
Also new for Wala'a: going to school without her younger sister Isma.
"We were like twins," Wala'a said. "We spent all our time together, quarreling usually. And talking."
Isma was killed in July, when a neighbor's house was struck with explosives. "Now I don't really have anyone to talk to," Wala'a says. "I miss her."
Children in Gaza have experienced three wars between Israel and Hamas over the past six years. This summer's seven-week conflict was the longest and most destructive, with the highest number of people killed, injured and displaced from their homes.
So school authorities decided to start this school year differently. For at least the first week — longer in some schools — academics were put on hold. Visiting therapists or the school's own teachers led children in art, drama and other creative activities.
On the playground of Al-Zaitoun Primary School in Gaza City, hundreds of little girls clapped their hands and yelled as loud as they could, following the lead of adults trained in play therapy.
The louder the better, said one play therapist.
Some girls held balloons as they lined up, marched in circles and sang. Therapist Mohmmad Kahloot said it helps him to see kids smiling again.
"When they overcome such a catastrophe and smile, this gives us relief," he said. "This gives us hope for tomorrow."
His colleagues say after this summer, even the therapists in Gaza need therapy. So do parents. As children shouted in the al-Zaitoun school courtyard, more than 40 women crowded in a second-floor classroom to hear a psychologist talk. She asked the women to share their experiences during this most recent war.
One mother first praised God and Palestinian solidarity. Then she described her internal struggle to silence her fears that her son might be killed whenever he left the house during the war.
She said even after the fighting stopped, her younger daughter was afraid to walk past a mosque that was destroyed, worried that more bombs would fall.
Another mother said her fourth-grade daughter started sucking her thumb and wetting the bed, and won't go to sleep without someone holding her.
The psychologist acknowledged that the stress of conflict can show up in different ways, and encouraged them to try to put the war behind them.
That may be most difficult for families who have no home to return to. More than 50,000 people are still living in 19 United Nations-run schools. Last week, some moved from a U.N. school in Beit Hanoun to a nearby government school building too damaged to use for classes.
Yusef al-Masri, with his two wives and nine children, moved into two classrooms in that school, divided now by a pile of rubble where a separating wall used to be. The outside wall of one room is gone; a tarp covers the hole, and all the windows are broken.
Al-Masri and extended family members say they were moved here because the U.N. needed to use the school where they had been living for students. The U.N. has been working to consolidate families still needing shelter, and is offering rent subsidies as well as one-time $500 payments to help families get back on their feet.
But, sitting in the dark in the damaged school building last Wednesday night, Maha al-Masri said her family has not yet gotten that kind of help. She was deeply frustrated.
"We understand that children have the right to start the school year," she said. "But we have a right to shelter too."
Facing an uncertain living situation, and, these parents said, no cash for transportation or supplies, the children in this family did not attend the first week of school.
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Transcript
STEVE INSKEEP, HOST:
Half a million children returned to school last week in Gaza. They were going back to class after living through a summer of warfare. Israel, you'll recall, is fighting the militant group Hamas. And in that fighting, scores of school buildings were damaged. Some schools that remain are sheltering families who lost their homes. NPR's Emily Harris went to school.
(STUDENTS SHOUTING)
EMILY HARRIS, BYLINE: Grade school girls shout on the playground of Al-Zaitoun Primary School in Gaza City. They're following the lead of adults trained in play therapy. This year, in most of Gaza, there were no academics the first week of school. Instead, it was five days of music, painting, drama and here, shouting loud. The louder the better, says one play therapist. Another, Mohmmad Kahloot, says when he sees kids smile, he feels hope.
MOHMMAD KAHLOOT: (Through translator) When they overcome such a catastrophe and smile, this gives us relief, just like seeing our own friends and laughing together. This gives us hope for tomorrow.
HARRIS: After seven weeks of death, damage and displacement here, even the therapists need therapy. The first week of school support, mostly paid for with U.N. funds, included programs for parents too. More than 40 women crowded into a classroom to hear a psychologist open a session called We Are OK In Gaza.
(Speaking foreign language.)
HARRIS: She asked them to share their experiences of this most recent war.
(Speaking foreign language.)
HARRIS: One mother began by praising God and Palestinian solidarity. Then she described how she held her fears silent whenever her older son left the house during the war.
(Speaking foreign language.)
HARRIS: Another mother said her fourth grade daughter has started sucking her thumb, wetting the bed and won't go to sleep without someone holding her. In a high school courtyard, there's no talk of bedwetting. Teenage girls giggled and chatted before classes began. Sophomore Wala'a Abdelkas wore a big pink plastic watch along with her school uniform of a long-sleeved dark coat and white headscarf. Wala'a said she enjoyed painting and playing the first week of school, although it was difficult, she said, to come back to school without her sister Isma. Just one year younger than Wala'a, she was killed when a neighbor's house was killed was hit with explosives.
WALA'A: (Through translator) We were like twins. We spent all our time together, quarrelling usually and talking. Now I don't really have anyone to talk to. I miss her.
HARRIS: Still, she and the girls grouped around her say they're used to wars. They say pretty soon things will seem just like always. But they don't know when they'll be able to go back to their own school. That building was destroyed, so these teens have been assigned to the afternoon shift in a different neighborhood. Even before the war, classroom shortages meant that two-thirds of schools in Gaza ran on four hour shifts. Now with even fewer buildings available, the Deputy Minister of Education says 90 percent of schools are doubling up. Classrooms are more crowded, with as many as 50, or sometimes 60 students, principals say. And some schools are still sheltering people who lost their homes. Yusef al-Masri, a laborer with two wives and nine children, moved the tarp covering a pile of concrete rubble in the middle of the classroom where his family was living last week. Tarps covered the missing back wall too. All the windows in this room were broken. He and another two dozen extended family members said they were moved here because the U.N. needed to use for students the school where they had been living. The U.N. has been consolidating shelters where more than 50,000 displaced people are still staying. U.N. agencies are offering families cash subsidies to rent new homes. But here, Maha al-Masri said her family had not yet gotten that kind of help. She was deeply frustrated.
YUSEF AL-MASRI: (Through translator) We understand that children have the right to start the school year, but we have a right to shelter too.
HARRIS: Facing an uncertain living situation and - these parents said - no money for transportation or supplies, the children in this family did not attend the first week of school. Emily Harris, NPR News, Jerusalem. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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