The Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Monitor reports that the ongoing Israeli genocide has paralyzed education throughout the Gaza Strip.

Five out of six universities — The Islamic University, Al-Azhar University (main campus and Maghraqa branch), Open University of Jerusalem, Al-Israa University, and Al-Aqsa University — were leveled by airstrikes. More than 95 university deans and professors have been killed in airstrikes. Over 93 percent of Gaza’s schools are damaged or destroyed, according to U.N. experts. Many have been turned into displacement centers.

To understand the effects of the disruptions to students’ schooling, the Washington Report [co-publisher of this story with We Are Not Numbers] spoke to a high school teacher and to three students who are dealing with catastrophic disruptions.

Bisal Sharaf, who teaches English at a high school, put the issue in context. Gaza’s students have been grappling with formidable educational obstacles in recent years, exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic. Over the past decade, the region has endured a series of relentless wars, from the 2014 war to the devastating genocide of 2023. Each step forward in education is frequently reversed by the next disaster. Prolonged school closures and a reliance on ineffective online learning have intensified the difficulties. Students are advancing from one grade to the next without fully grasping the skills from their previous level, which hampers their educational development.

For elementary school students, this has damaging consequences. Their curricula are designed to support their psychological well-being and social integration. The ongoing crises hinder these developmental opportunities, further affecting their overall growth and learning experience.

“The interruption of continuous learning disrupts students’ ability to connect and apply acquired skills,” Bisal observed. “Long breaks erase prior learning, pushing teachers to skip essential skills and rush through new material, resulting in fragmented understanding. The lack of time only worsens this issue.” The impact on social development is also severe. Students don’t have an opportunity to form bonds with teachers and their classmates, and they risk losing the discipline of meeting assignment deadlines and preparing for their classes.

The three students who spoke to the Washington Report should have been celebrating big milestones this past summer. Two had expected to graduate from university, and one from high school. No graduation ceremonies were held; instead, Gaza’s universities lie in ruins, libraries have been reduced to ashes, and schools are used as shelters for displaced people. Students find themselves trapped in Gaza’s devastation, their futures shrouded in uncertainty.

Approximately 88,000 students have been deprived of continuing their university education, and 555 students have been unable to take up scholarships abroad.

Donia Ashour, 19, was brimming with anticipation for her high school graduation. She had always envisioned that she would excel academically and celebrate her high school graduation with her family, but the war shattered those dreams.

Two months ago, instead of preparing for her final exams, she and her family were displaced yet again within Gaza. Meanwhile, her peers outside Gaza were completing their final year and planning for their futures. “You know what has been the hardest feeling? It was seeing others succeed while I was struggling. That was incredibly difficult for me,” she admitted.

The destruction of her school during the war deeply hurt her, because it was a place of cherished memories. The war claimed the life of her beloved teacher, Areej Almidana, who was killed on Oct. 20. For Donia, Areej was not just an educator but a mother and friend.

Donia just wants the war to end so she can resume her studies and work toward the dreams that have been derailed: “I want to pursue my lifelong dream of becoming a doctor.”

In September 2023, Khaled Alhissy, a senior studying English Language and Literature at the Islamic University of Gaza, was looking forward to his final year at the university and working as an assistant professor. He and his friends were discussing how they wanted to celebrate their graduation at the end of the academic year. “My friends Khaled and Mohammad (may he rest in peace) and I were eager to graduate and we were discussing whether to have a small gathering or a graduation party at a chalet,” he told the Washington Report.

The war obliterated those plans, together with the university itself. “When I lost the university, I felt like I lost my entire life — all the hard work of three years seemed to go up in smoke,” Khaled lamented.

To make matters worse, Khaled, 23, was diagnosed with cancer. He is now undergoing treatment in Jordan, a process expected to last at least two and a half years.

Khaled mourns the loss of 14 family members and several friends. “On November 24, Israel killed my dear friend, Mohammad Hamo, 23, who was studying English language and translation. We were supposed to graduate together,” he said sadly.

The assassination of Dr. Refaat Alareer on December 6 profoundly affected him. “Dr. Refaat’s killing by Israel has created millions of Refaats — each of us now embodies his spirit and values,” Khaled asserted.

Despite the devastation, Khaled remains committed to returning to Gaza after his treatment, even if it means living in a tent. “Gaza is where I belong. I want to continue Dr. Refaat’s mission by advocating for justice and sharing his legacy.”

Dima Ashour, 22, was a senior at the Islamic University of Gaza, majoring in English Language and Translation. Before the war, she had participated in department exhibitions and was socializing with more people in the university. She and her friends eagerly anticipated graduation and starting their careers in translation and writing.

Her passion for her major grew under the guidance of Dr. Refaat Alareer, a significant source of inspiration for Dima. His encouragement and belief in her writing motivated her to develop her skills. She too felt his assassination as a profound loss. “I felt we lost more than just our professor; he was a friend, mentor, guide and inspiration. We learned so much from him, and I consider myself fortunate to have been taught by him,” Dima said sadly.

There have been other losses, too: an uncle, a cousin, and her sister’s husband. She is currently displaced in Deir Al-Balah, and she is struggling with the lack of internet access. That makes it hard for her to manage online study.

She misses the university a lot and was deeply sad when it was destroyed, as it took with it so many memories. She is eager for the war to end so she can return to her home, find a way to resume her studies, and recapture a sense of normalcy.

This article is co-published with Washington Report on Middle East Affairs.