Since he was born, 17-year-old Ahmad has dreamed of becoming a doctor. This dream has flourished alongside him like a flower as far as he can remember, lovingly cultivated by his family’s unwavering support.

Having known Ahmad and his family for many years, I reached out to check on them and reconnect, as we do in Gaza during the dark days of war. They now live in a small tent in a Gaza camp.

Ahmad’s father, Sameh Ibrahim, fondly remembered his son’s early fascination with medicine. “Whenever I took Ahmad to the toy store during his kindergarten years, he always picked out toys related to his future career as a doctor,” Sameh told me. “He was drawn to items like stethoscopes, toy needles, medicine kits, and other tools that doctors use in clinics and hospitals.”

Sameh recalled in detail how his first child playfully pretended to be a doctor. “In his funny way, he would sit behind me and say, ‘What aches you? Open your mouth,’ holding a toy needle and placing it on my shoulder, declaring, ‘You have chicken pox! I’m your doctor and you have to listen to my instructions!’”

Ahmad, who was sitting with us, remembered another such anecdote. With a twinkle in his eyes, he said, “When a student felt lightheaded or began throwing up in class, I was always the first to take them downstairs to those responsible for treating patients and to provide first aid.

“I would observe how patients suffered from their illnesses and how doctors treated and cared for them. I also had the chance to talk with doctors at the hospitals we visited. I tried to picture myself treating my patients like a doctor.”

Ahmad’s ambition to become a doctor has been a driving force throughout his academic journey. He consistently placed at the top of his class and engaged in numerous lab activities as part of the scientific club during secondary school.

By the time he began preparing for the crucial Tawjihi exams in eleventh grade, his resolve was even stronger. “I’ve always had a strong desire to become a doctor since my people in Gaza are in great need of medical professionals who can treat their suffering in hospitals,” Ahmad shared. “Most hospitals have been destroyed, but those still standing are currently overflowing with patients who don’t receive enough medication or care, so they are in desperate need of doctors.”

The collapse of Gaza’s education system

As the conversation unfolded, it naturally led us from Ahmad’s cherished memories of playing doctor to the broader crisis affecting Gaza’s children. The recent 10-month onslaught has disrupted Ahmad’s plans to complete his Tawjihi exams and has put him and his classmates in limbo.

Ahmad is not alone in this predicament. The education system in Gaza has collapsed, with more than 625,000 children out of school and no near-term prospects for education. Children who would normally be in school have now abandoned their education and instead work to help put food on the table.

Despite these setbacks, Ahmad remains hopeful. “My desire to become a doctor will never change, despite everything. I have witnessed an enormous number of martyrs since this onslaught started; many of their bodies are in shreds, and many of them are women and children.” For Ahmed, pursuing a medical career is a way to reclaim control and change the story from one of suffering and death to one of recovery and healing.

His father, Sameh, also emphasizes the importance of education, particularly in a place where the need for skilled professionals is dire. “As parents here in Gaza, we put a lot of focus on educating our children to guarantee their future, to make a living,” he said. “The opportunities for getting jobs here are limited, and the rate of unemployment is increasing year after year. The best investment is educating our children so they can get jobs after that and make a living because there is no social system or a government to cover our retirement, so our children are our only safety net.”

There is a natural cycle: Parents nurture their children when they are young, and as they grow older, the children take on the responsibility of caring for their parents. However, this centuries-old cycle has been disrupted by the collapse of the education system.

The weight of lost hopes

Amidst these challenges, Ahmad has found it increasingly difficult to focus on his dreams. “I am just drifting, feeling increasingly disconnected from life.

“Recently, I have shifted my focus to small businesses, like selling cakes, instead of pursuing my dream of becoming a doctor. I feel uneasy about my current path, as there seems to be no way out without the constant looming threat of death.”

His father’s voice, full of deep sadness, conveyed the weight of lost hopes. “Ahmad’s dreams have gone up in smoke,” he said.

The young man’s dreams are also suppressed by the conditions his family is forced to live in. “Our tiny tent is our home,” Ahmad said. “It was too cold in the wintertime. Our entire bodies, including our hands and legs, were devoid of sensation. Some of us slept on the hard ground throughout the winter. It felt like pins piercing our bodies, the coolness of the earth. We were shivering nonstop.”

Summer is not much better. “Our tent is composed solely of nylon and wood, and the intense sun rises over us,” Ahmad explained. “We perspire continuously. Cleaning supplies are often expensive and hard to come by and with the six of us crammed in this little tent, we struggle to keep things in order.”

Ahmad’s concerns extend to his younger siblings who lack basic needs. “My baby brother doesn’t have adequate clothes, diapers, or nutritious food.” To support his family, Ahmad turned to baking and selling desserts.

“Since everything is expensive, I made the decision to start creating my own desserts and selling them to raise money for my father’s expenses and provide food for my family.”

Ahmad is keenly aware that this harsh reality affects all the children in Gaza. “Not only I am not alone in this struggle,” he said, “but my buddies have also replaced their big dreams with small things to sell to make a living. Some of them aspired to become engineers or teachers. I often run into them on the streets, each of us trying to sell something to get by.”

Ahmad’s last words before I left to go back to my own harsh reality stayed with me. “We are just children, but in Gaza, we are born adults because of the harsh conditions we endure under occupation.”