In interviews conducted by Daraj with mothers, teachers, and students, a very different picture emerges from the one reflected in official decisions. These are not numbers or plans, but daily stories of an education system trying to survive amid war.
“I have three kids sharing one phone… There are 13 children in the house… you’re telling me online learning? How is a child supposed to understand?” says Shireen, who was displaced from her home in Beirut’s southern suburbs. In this house, it is not only a lack of resources but a complete absence of a learning environment. The children have no space to focus, and the mother herself cannot keep up. “I’m not a teacher… who am I supposed to focus on? And who are they supposed to focus on?” she adds, before making her decision clear: “I won’t teach them online… once this crisis ends, I’ll send them back to their classrooms.”
Elsewhere, the situation is not much different. Fatima, who is still in her home in Sarafand, lives under bombardment, but school is not even on her mind. “Right now, we’re thinking about how to survive… not how to study,” she says. Then she adds, “How am I supposed to tell my child to sit and study while planes are flying above us?” For her, education is not just a postponed priority, but an unrealistic idea under constant fear. “We are psychologically overwhelmed,” she says, as if summing up the condition of thousands of families.
Even within virtual classrooms, things are not any better. Joumana, a displaced Arabic language teacher, tries to teach her students while she herself is displaced, without books, without stability, and without the ability to focus.
“Families are crammed, four to a room… there’s no internet… how are they supposed to study?” she says. She adds that the problem does not stop with the students: “I’m teaching on Teams, and I hear that my area has been bombed… how am I supposed to focus? All I can think about is my home.”
Zahraa, meanwhile, is in a different place but carries a different kind of burden. A student preparing for the official exams, she is trying to keep up with her studies despite everything, but finds herself caught between an ongoing war and exams that will not be postponed. “We’re studying under pressure… it feels like something is chasing you, like there’s a countdown,” she says. She tries to ignore the war in order to study, but that feels impossible: “Sometimes I want to forget that I’m in a war… but I can’t.” She adds that the problem is not only psychological, but also practical: “Some people are staying in schools without their books, no Wi-Fi… how are we supposed to study normally?” In the end, education is no longer an aspiration for her: “We’re studying just to finish… not because we want to.”
The war, now in its third week, has forced the displacement of nearly one million people, creating unprecedented challenges. Education in Lebanon is no longer affected by a single crisis that can be contained. It has become hostage to a cumulative series of political, economic, and military crises that have overlapped since 2019, reaching their peak with the latest war between 2024 and 2026. In this context, it is no longer accurate to speak of a “temporary disruption” to education, but rather a gradual collapse of an entire system, threatening a whole generation with the loss of their fundamental right to learn.
A Compounding Crisis: Education Under the Weight of Collapse
The reality of education in Lebanon today cannot be understood in isolation from the cumulative trajectory of crises. Since the July War, through the repercussions of Syrian displacement after 2011, to the economic collapse in 2019, followed by the COVID-19 pandemic and the Beirut Port explosion in 2020, the education system has been subjected to repeated shocks, without ever having a real opportunity to recover.
This timeline of disruption between 2000 and 2026 shows how scattered crises have evolved into a continuous state of structural instability. Beginning with the July 2006 war, which caused widespread destruction and mass displacement that directly disrupted schooling, followed by the impact of Syrian displacement after 2011, which placed unprecedented pressure on public schools, and the introduction of a second-shift system in 2014 to accommodate the growing number of students, the education system appeared to be in a constant state of adaptation to crisis.
However, the economic collapse in 2019 marked a sharp turning point, as the state’s ability to fund education declined and the burden on public schools increased. The COVID-19 pandemic and the Beirut Port explosion in 2020 further deepened the disruption, leading to prolonged school closures.
Strikes and security tensions continued between 2022 and 2023, before the crisis intensified with military escalation in 2024, when schools were transformed into shelters and educational infrastructure suffered significant damage. With challenges persisting in 2025, and renewed displacement and instability in 2026, it has become clear that education in Lebanon is no longer facing a temporary crisis. It is experiencing a chronic disruption driven by the overlap of war, economic collapse, and displacement, threatening the continuity of the entire education system.
Economic Collapse: Education as an Unaffordable Luxury
Since the onset of the economic collapse, families’ ability to bear the costs of education has sharply declined. Reports by UNICEF indicate that more than 52% of households have reduced their spending on education to secure basic needs, while 15% have been forced to stop their children’s education entirely. This shift reflects how education has moved from being a fundamental right to a financial burden, amid unprecedented inflation and a collapse in purchasing power.
School Dropout and Child Labor
As the crisis deepens, school dropout has emerged as one of its most visible consequences. It is estimated that 31% of youth in Lebanon are not in education, employment, or training, while school enrollment has dropped from 60% to around 43%. At the same time, more than 13% of families have been forced to send their children to work, including, in some cases, children under the age of six. This reflects a stark reality in which education has become secondary to survival.
War: An Additional Blow to a Fragile System
The latest war has only compounded the crisis. Since the escalation of military operations in 2024, education for hundreds of thousands of children has been disrupted due to displacement and destruction. Estimates by UNICEF suggest that around 350,000 children have been directly affected by displacement, while many schools have been converted into shelters.
In this context, the Lebanese Ministry of Education and Higher Education announced that 1,156 public schools and secondary institutions, along with 75 vocational institutes, have been placed at the disposal of the Disaster Management Unit. This includes 334 public schools, 40 vocational institutes, and 17 centers affiliated with the Lebanese University, all repurposed as shelters for displaced populations. This shift has effectively transformed schools from spaces of learning into emergency response facilities, leading to the suspension or severe reduction of education in many of them.
Even for children who have managed to continue learning, there has been a clear decline in educational quality. Curricula are now being delivered below age-appropriate levels, amid limited resources and ongoing interruptions to the learning process.
In an interview with Daraj, Minister of Education Dr. Rima Karami stated that the decision to adopt remote learning is not tied to a political assessment of how long the war will last, but rather to the nature of the education system itself, which “cannot stop.” She explained that the ministry is dealing with a “compounding crisis,” requiring a shift from waiting for stability to attempting to ensure the “continuity of learning under any circumstances.”
A Damaged Educational Infrastructure and an Unstable System
Data from the Lebanese Ministry of Education and Higher Education and the Center for Educational Research and Development reveal the scale of deterioration in educational infrastructure. Hundreds of schools have been damaged, some partially or completely, while others have been repurposed as shelters. Estimates indicate that around 500,000 school-aged children are currently out of school due to a combination of poverty, displacement, and access challenges.
At the same time, the teaching workforce is struggling with repeated strikes and widespread emigration driven by declining wages, leading to fewer teaching days and an overall decline in the quality of education. Journalist Walid Hussein told Daraj that the crisis is not limited to tools or resources, but lies within the structure of the system itself. There is “a significant gap between public and private education, and even within the private sector,” making any unified plan difficult to implement. He added that some private schools continue operating “not necessarily to ensure quality learning, but in some cases to secure tuition payments,” further widening the gap between students.
Interrupted Education and Temporary Solutions
In an attempt to contain the crisis, alternative models such as remote learning, blended education, and non-formal education programs have been introduced. However, these solutions remain limited in effectiveness, particularly given weak digital infrastructure and unequal access to electricity and the internet. Data also shows that many schools continue to operate on reduced hours or partial schedules, deepening educational disparities among students.
In this context, journalist Walid Hussein adds that the discussion around remote learning in Lebanon is “more theoretical than practical.” He argues that this model is “already ineffective at the primary education level, and becomes even more fragile in a country facing mass displacement and economic collapse.” What is currently being implemented, he says, “cannot be considered true remote learning, but rather partial attempts through tools like WhatsApp or the distribution of non-interactive materials, an approach that has previously proven unsuccessful.”
While the minister acknowledges that remote learning is not ideal, she describes it as “the best available option at the moment.” She explains that the plan is based on differentiating between regions, with in-person learning where possible and remote learning in unsafe areas. She adds that the ministry is working to assess students’ situations through schools directly and to provide devices or technical support to the most vulnerable groups, noting that reaching even “50% of students” would be a step toward minimizing overall losses.
Official Exams: Between Ministry Scenarios and Student Anxiety
As for official exams, the picture remains unclear. While the Ministry of Education confirms that it is working on multiple scenarios, prioritizing students in official exam classes and attempting to develop flexible solutions to avoid losing the academic year, this official discourse collides with a very different reality on the ground.
Zahraa, a student preparing for the official exams, says this year “is unlike any other,” not only because of the war, but due to the accumulated pressure: “We have official exams, and nothing is clear… no plan, no guarantees, not even a sense that we are moving in the right direction.” She adds that students are experiencing continuous exhaustion: “We are studying under pressure, as if there is a countdown chasing us… we try to study and forget that we are in a war, but the two cannot be separated.”
This pressure is not only tied to the curriculum, but also to the absence of the most basic learning conditions, from internet disruptions to the lack of textbooks for many students, in addition to displacement and instability. Zahraa points out that even the idea of “safe areas” is no longer realistic, as bombardment has spread across different regions, making it nearly impossible to commit to a fixed study schedule.
Between official talk of “scenarios under consideration” and the lived reality of students facing daily uncertainty, official exams appear suspended between what can be theoretically planned and what can actually be endured on the ground.
Psychological and Social Impact: An Invisible Crisis
The impact of the crisis extends beyond education into children’s mental health. Reports by UNICEF indicate that around 70% of children suffer from anxiety and stress, while nearly half experience recurring sadness or depression. This reflects an unstable environment where war, poverty, and insecurity intersect.
A Generation at Risk, an Uncertain Future
Ultimately, the state of education in Lebanon during wartime reflects a deep structural crisis that extends beyond the education sector to the future of society as a whole. The continuation of this trajectory means widening educational gaps, deepening inequality, and weakening prospects for economic and social recovery. In the absence of sustainable solutions, there is little indication that the crisis will ease anytime soon, raising serious questions about the education system’s ability to endure and whether an entire generation can still be saved before its loss becomes permanent.
In this context, Hussein argues that what is happening today is effectively creating a “clear educational divide,” where a limited group can continue their education while large segments are left entirely outside the system. He adds that the absence of forward planning and the reliance on the same approaches in every crisis “reproduces the same outcomes,” warning that this path could lead to the loss of a full academic year, or even more.
For the ministry, the issue is not only about education, but also about preserving a minimum level of psychological stability for children. Minister Karami explains that keeping students engaged in some form of learning, even partially, “helps them hold on to a sense of normalcy in an abnormal reality.” She stresses the importance of not giving up, summarizing her position with a simple message: “Never give up.” She also calls on parents not to accept the loss of the academic year, noting that even a few hours of learning per day “can make a difference,” and that the goal at this stage is to “save what can still be saved.”
Between Survival and Education… Which Comes First Today?
At the end of this picture, the voices intersect but do not align. Between the official approach and the daily experiences marked by fear, confusion, and incapacity, the education crisis in Lebanon no longer appears as a temporary disruption, but as a profound shift in the meaning of education itself. If some students are still able to learn while others are entirely excluded from the system, the question is no longer only about the fate of the academic year, but about the future of education in a country where crises repeat without end: what kind of education system can survive in Lebanon, when students themselves are first trying to survive before they can learn?
