“For the first time in my life, I feel like I miss school,” said Lynn Housseini, a 13-year-old Nabatieh resident, who like 1.2 million other Lebanese people, had to flee her home because of escalating Israeli attacks. 

“But now there’s nothing left in Nabatieh, they [the Israeli army] completely destroyed it,” she continued. 

Lynn and her family fled their home in Nabatieh on September 23, and like tens of thousands of others, sought refuge in public schools, which have now transformed into makeshift shelters for internally displaced people. 

While the school year was meant to begin on October 17, caretaker Minister of Education Abbas Halabi announced delaying the start of the public school year to November 4, while letting private schools decide their own course of action. 

Yet, after almost two weeks of this announcement, public school students, teachers, and parents alike are still unsure what a school year during war times might look like. 

“To me, it is unacceptable that private school students have access to education while public school students still don’t know their fate,” said Mirna Moussa, director of the Zouk Mosbeh public school, which is currently hosting 116 displaced people from all over the country. 

“The government had a year to set an emergency plan on how to welcome internally displaced people in centers while keeping the school year on track,” Moussa continued, referring to the Cabinet’s creation of an “emergency committee” after the Israeli attacks on southern Lebanon began on October 8, 2023. 

“They could have readied other government-owned buildings, or prepared an ‘online learning kit’ with what a student might need to start the school year digitally,” she suggested, “Instead, here we are, a month after the school year was meant to begin, with no real plan.” 

A week ago, the Ministry of Education published its proposed plan to move forward, suggesting a form of hybrid learning, depending on whether the public schools in the area are hosting displaced families or not. 

“For now, we’re calling on students to register, no matter where they are,” said Albert Chamoun, the ministry’s spokesperson, “No matter how far you are from the school you usually go to, register to the one closest to you now.” 

Chamoun is suggesting that in this new plan, public schools that are not hosting the displaced are free to open their doors for in-person learning holding “two shifts” for one half to learn in the morning and the other in the afternoon. Other schools can hold online classes or a third option which is “offline learning,” in which teachers upload the material for students to study in their own time.

“But the most important thing right now is for students to register so we know how many to expect this year,” Chamoun continued, “Every year we always let students register until January, so I don’t understand why this year should be different.” 

While the options are present, the general worry is not over the medium through which students will learn, but instead in what state of mind they will be in, as daily and violent nationwide Israeli attacks are committing massacres, killing over 2,770 people and injuring over 12,600 others. 

For Moussa’s school, she shares that last year, a student displaced from his southern hometown fled with his family to Zouk Mosbeh, and enrolled in the middle of the year to continue his studies as normal. “All we’d do was send his grades to the Education Ministry, while the system kept him enrolled in his school in the South.” 

On October 17, public school directors and principals were asked to inform the Ministry of Education where students and teachers alike were displaced to, in order to understand in which schools they could eventually be enrolled for the coming school year. 

Al-Abde Bourji, a 38-year-old displaced public school teacher, believes people are not ready to operate schools as normal: “I teach at the Bint Jbeil public school. So far, only three students have registered there. And even if more were willing to do so, I don’t think anyone is in the headspace to study or prepare courses.” 

“Last year, we tried to move classes online, but so many people had left their books at home or fled to places without a working connection, and it became too hard to keep a proper school year working,” said Bourji. 

As a nurse at the Mais al-Jabal public hospital, which was officially evacuated and shut down on Oct. 4, Bourji teaches nursing studies in Bint Jbeil. For her classes, online studies are impossible because her students need to work 400 hours at hospitals in person to get a working degree. 

“Even if they do begin working wherever they are displaced, I just don’t believe anyone is in the state of mind to focus,” Bourji continued. 

Lynn stated that she and her friends feel the same way: “We don’t all have access to a working Wi-Fi connection in the first place, but even if we did, I don’t think I could focus.” 

“No one might agree with me, but I believe the school year needs to be held when things get better, even if we have to hold classes in July and August,” Bourji suggested. 

“On one hand, I’m heartbroken about my hometown, on the other, my biggest wish is for us to not lose this school year,” said Lynn, who hopes to become a doctor when she grows up.