‘If you want to rebuild a country, you start with their minds,’ says Gaza teacher

In the war-torn streets of Gaza, where the echoes of bombs and the hum of drones weave through the everyday lives of people, a newly installed makeshift classroom stands out, decorated with colourful posters, toys and pictures.

Though it can’t withstand Israel’s bombs and air strikes, it remains the safest place for pupils, says Ahmed Abo Rizik, a 27-year-old English teacher and father.

These classrooms are one of the desperate measures he is taking to shield the children from war and mitigate the devastating impact of Israel’s attacks on a young generation scarred by personal loss and a disrupted education.

“Education is a form of resistance,” Ahmed asserts.

When children are educated, they are empowered. They learn to hope, to dream, and to believe in a better future.

The streets of Gaza, lined with makeshift tents and filled with barefoot children scavenging for basic necessities, paint a haunting picture of innocence lost. It was this very sight, children fighting over a kilogramme of rice or sugar, that stirred a profound sense of guilt in Ahmed. As a teacher, he felt he had to do something – anything – to restore a semblance of normality for these young minds.

“It was a very bad scene for me as a teacher seeing these children sitting in the streets with no shoes living in schools and tents. This helped me come up with the idea of starting the tent school Gaza Great Minds. I had also made an oath to myself after losing five of my students in this war that I will start something.”

“I asked a boy who was seeking refuge in a school if he wished to study, but he said no. After I asked why, he said he hated school because it’s now an uncomfortable shelter to him. He hated that the learning environment was no longer there so I decided to make the tent away from the school.”

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On 1 May, Ahmed began planning for Gaza Great Minds. By 14 May, the first tent was set up using parachutes and whatever resources could be mustered in Gaza City. Chairs were sourced from the teacher’s own money, and the first classes began. The goal was simple yet profound: to provide education and psychological support in a safe, nurturing environment away from the trauma of destroyed schools and shelters.

Gaza Great Minds is more than just Ahmed’s vision; it is a collaborative effort involving various educators and volunteers. These educators, including a Ukrainian mother and her daughter, have become integral to the initiative, bringing diverse skills and perspectives.

“As a long-term English teacher living in the north, I got some acquaintances from centres that were running before this war. So we cooperate with staff from Teachers Without Borders who joined to teach the students,” explains Ahmed.

The opening day of Gaza Great Minds was a blend of excitement and fear. Ahmed says ordinarily he has a magical power of making any child smile; however the trauma of war had left the students with emotional scars too deep to allow them to muster a smile. Seeking the help of a mental health expert, Ahmed says he was told the children will not smile for a while.

Yet, over time, the atmosphere changed. Trust and relationships formed, leading to smiles and eventually, learning and laughter. “If you go to the tent now, you will see them laughing a lot and smiling a lot, because now they trust us, and we have a relationship,” Ahmad says proudly. Weekly entertainment days featuring singing and dancing became the most beloved activities, providing a much-needed escape and a semblance of normality.

English, Arabic, and Maths classes are held daily, along with sessions with the psychological trainer. “What the students love most is singing and dancing,” Ahmed notes, highlighting the importance of joy and expression in the healing process.

In this context, teachers are more than educators; they are surrogate parents and therapists. “Most of the students lost at least one family member,” says Ahmed. Teachers often find themselves comforting children who call them ‘mum’ or ‘dad’, filling the void left by the war. Ahmed shares heart-wrenching anecdotes of children who lost their parents and how he tries to provide a little comfort, like sneaking chocolates into their bags, pretending they are gifts from their missing fathers.

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“A boy had lost his father right in front of his very eyes and would cry every time he started talking about his father. Another girl, Loah, told me how the Israeli army invaded the school they sheltered in and took her father and shot him dead. Then the soldiers gave them biscuits but she cried and told them she doesn’t want biscuits, she wants her father back.”

He describes the current war as unlike any before it, marked by mass destruction, global silence and a staggering loss of life. “This is not just a war; it’s genocide,” he states bluntly.

In addition to the drones and bombing which threaten their lives every day, Ahmed says one of the most heartbreaking aspects his team faces is the children’s pervasive hunger. “Many of these children come to our classes having had no breakfast,” he explains. “When they arrive, they are tired, exhausted, and unable to focus.” Initially, he managed to provide three sandwiches a day for the students, but this had to stop due to lack of funds.

The initiative has garnered attention and support, but the needs are immense and ongoing. Ahmed emphasises the critical role of international awareness and aid, urging the global community to not just bear witness, but to act.

The danger surrounding Ahmed, his colleagues and students is ever-present. During our interview, drones hummed in the background until there was a deafening silence followed by a large explosion. “This strike could be me,” says Ahmed as an F-16 targeted nearby houses.

“If I must die, you must live, to tell my story,” he continued, echoing the lines of the final poem written by his teacher, Dr Refaat Alareer, a writer who was assassinated in an Israeli air strike that targeted his sister’s flat in northern Gaza in December.

The silence that followed the air strike was punctuated by the chaos of emergency response vehicles, underscoring the constant threat to life Palestinians live under. Yet, Ahmed’s resolve remains unshaken. “No matter what, we will keep going. Even if they destroy the tent, we will build another. Even if I die, another teacher will continue this mission because if you want to rebuild a country, you start with their minds.”

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