Omar’s Story: The Road Back to School in Gaza

My family has been displaced 13 times. And with every displacement, my son Omar was pulled further away from school.

We moved from place to place, carrying what we could and leaving behind what we couldn’t. Some of his books were lost along the way. His learning was interrupted again and again, and months passed without him ever sitting in a classroom.

As his father, I could see what this was doing to him. Omar had always loved to learn. But the longer he stayed away from school, the more he forgot. Reading became a struggle, and skills that once came so naturally to him slowly slipped away. I watched my son grow older while his education stood still, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

After our 13th displacement, we returned to northern Gaza and pitched our tent beside the ruins of our home. Not long after, Omar began noticing workers arriving every morning. Day after day, he watched them raise wooden frames and stretch tarpaulins across them, slowly turning an empty patch of land near our tent into something new.

One day, while we waited in line for water, I learned what they were building: a school. When I told Omar, his whole face lit up.

“A school, Dad? Finally, I can learn again! I promise I’ll make up for everything I missed.”

Soon, Omar was sitting in a classroom once more. At first, he was nervous. He was afraid he had forgotten too much and that the other children would be far ahead of him. But once he joined the class, he discovered that many of his classmates had also been out of school for a long time. They were all trying to catch up, just like him. He was not alone.

His teacher, Mona, understood the gaps Omar and his classmates were carrying. She worked patiently with them to rebuild the skills they had lost, giving each child the time and support they needed to find their footing again. Little by little, I began to see the change. Omar was reading again. He was writing with confidence. He came home bursting to tell me about what he had learned, about his teacher, and about his new friends.

And then I noticed something even more precious: Omar was laughing again.

Alongside his lessons, he joined psychosocial and recreational activities at school, where he could simply play and be a child with other children. After so much displacement and uncertainty, he finally had a place to go each morning, a teacher waiting for him, friends to learn and play with, and a sense of routine returning to his life.

When I ask Omar what he wants to be when he grows up, he doesn’t hesitate.

“I want to be an engineer and build schools, so all children can go to school and learn.”

We still live in a tent beside the ruins of our home, and our future remains uncertain. But every morning, my son has a classroom to walk to. The wooden frames and tarpaulins he once watched rise beside our tent became the place where he found his way back to learning, rebuilt his confidence, and began to dream about his future again.

Help FAJR build a school in Gaza, or read about FAJR Global School 3 and the Gaza Field Schools.