Displaced Lebanese children face uncertain school year as shelters occupy classrooms
In Tyre, displaced families in school shelters face an uncertain school year as 100,000 children risk missing out on education.
In the southern Lebanese city of Tyre, about 200 families are living in a school gymnasium converted into a makeshift shelter. Among them is 11-year-old Fatima Khashab, who helps her mother tidy the small room they share with relatives and former neighbors. The walls are made of boards and tarps, with no ceiling, and the lack of privacy is stifling.
Most of these families fled villages farther south, like Mansouri, which have been destroyed or are under Israeli control. The school year is set to begin on September 15, but thousands of displaced people still occupy public schools. With peace talks stalled, there is no clear path home.
Randa al-Taki, Fatima's mother, said her children have been deprived of education and do not know what the school year will look like. She hopes they can study like other children, but the uncertainty is overwhelming.
Save the Children's Lebanon country director, Nora Ingdal, warned that 100,000 children risk missing out on school if shelters are not cleared within three weeks. She noted that school is more than academics—it provides identity and protection from child labor, early marriage, and abuse.
The conflict has damaged or destroyed 300 schools, according to Lebanon's Ministry of Education, with 45 completely destroyed, mainly in the south. At the height of the war, half of Lebanon's public schools were used as shelters, disrupting education for over 250,000 students.
Around 350,000 people remain displaced, with 21,000 in collective shelters. Many have been uprooted repeatedly since 2024. Fatima's family fled twice before, returning after a truce in June, only to leave again when Israeli strikes resumed.
Despite the hardships, humanitarian groups organize activities for children, and a woman brought her parakeet from Mansouri, a small comfort. But families like al-Taki's feel trapped. "We feel that we're suffocating between these tarps," she said, hoping for security and a return to their village.