fahmi-reza
Schools across Iran have begun a new academic year overshadowed by the devastation of recent conflict, with children and teachers confronting the psychological aftermath of a war that shuttered classrooms nationwide and left deep scars on the education system. The reopening comes months after the United States and Israel launched surprise air raids on Iran starting February 28, forcing an abrupt halt to in-person learning and plunging the country's schools into an extended period of online instruction.
At the center of this uneasy return is the Shajareh-ye Tayyebeh Elementary School in Minab, a city in southern Iran's Hormozgan province, where a double-tap US strike on the first day of the war killed at least 120 children and 35 adults. The bombing occurred as students were being evacuated from the school, which was beginning its week on that fateful Saturday. The site remains in ruins, though a new building has been constructed nearby. Students there now attend for only about an hour, just long enough to hear the bell marking the start of the new school year.
The attack has become a symbol of the war's toll on civilians, particularly children. According to the source material, United Nations findings have suggested that US strikes on Minab could constitute war crimes, a conclusion that has amplified international scrutiny of the military campaign. The strike has also fueled an ongoing debate about the protection of educational facilities during armed conflict, with the Minab school joining a grim list of civilian sites damaged or destroyed in the fighting.
Fear remains an ever-present companion for families across Iran as children resume their studies. Meysam, the father of an 11-year-old in Tehran, described an anxiety he cannot shake: the dread that if war breaks out again and schools call parents to retrieve their children, he may not reach his child in time. Like other parents interviewed, he spoke on condition of using only his first name due to security concerns. His fear is rooted in the chaos that gripped Iranian cities when the war began, when traffic-clogged roads turned routine school pickups into desperate ordeals. Some parents abandoned their vehicles and ran on foot to reach their children.
Hossein, whose child is in first grade in Tehran, recounted a similar unease. After dropping his child at school and returning to work, he found himself unable to banish the thought that hostilities could resume and a missile could strike the school. These testimonials illustrate how the trauma of the war has embedded itself in the daily routines of Iranian families, turning what should be a hopeful occasion into a source of persistent worry.
For some families, the loss is irreversible. Faramarz, a 39-year-old teacher from Minab, lost both his wife and one of his children in the school attack. Describing his family as once deeply intertwined with the school, he said half of them are now gone. He spoke of living with a constant lump in his throat and a feeling that he has nothing left to lose. His surviving child, he said, carried nothing more than a handful of dreams in her schoolbag—dreams that no longer exist. Though schools are reopening, he feels his own life will never return to normal.
The scale of damage to Iran's education infrastructure is substantial. The Ministry of Education reported that 1,288 schools were directly or indirectly damaged during the war. Many of these facilities have since been repaired, and new classrooms have been built to accommodate students. The ministry has also introduced a "Sacrifice and Martyrdom Bell" into the school curriculum, aiming to teach students about the impact of the two recent US-Israel wars on the country. The initiative reflects a broader effort to frame the conflict within a narrative of national resilience and remembrance.
Anticipating the possibility of renewed fighting, the Education Ministry has strengthened online learning infrastructure to ensure schools can function with fewer disruptions if they are forced to return to virtual instruction. This preparation underscores the precariousness of the current calm. In Iran's southern provinces, including Minab, classes at schools and universities will remain online for the first two weeks of the academic year due to the continuing threat of US bombing.
The prolonged reliance on remote education has raised concerns among teachers and parents about its effects on students. Amir, a 37-year-old high school teacher working on the outskirts of Tehran, noted that four of the nine months of the previous school year were conducted online because of the war. He said this virtual format damaged student-teacher relationships and made it nearly impossible to establish the routines that are essential for children's wellbeing. Teachers are now being advised to carry out as many group activities as possible in the first months of the school year, precisely because of the fear that education could once again shift online.
Zeinab, an elementary teacher in Tehran, said the persistent threat of violence is shaping how she teaches. Keeping students focused is difficult when fighter jets can be heard overhead, she explained. She also voiced concern that a return to online learning would exclude students who lack internet access, leaving them effectively out of school. This digital divide threatens to deepen educational inequalities, particularly for families in rural or economically disadvantaged areas.
The emotional burden on children themselves is evident. A video released on the first day of school showed a student from Shajareh-ye Tayyebeh expressing sorrow that friends who once lived nearby will no longer attend classes. The boy said he misses them and is unhappy that he can no longer see them. His words capture a grief that no curriculum can address, a sense of loss that has become part of the school experience for many Iranian children.
Parents across the country still vividly recall the harrowing hours when the war began, when they tried frantically to reach their children amid jammed roads and unanswered phone calls to schools. Those memories have not faded with the reopening of classrooms. Instead, they have become part of the emotional landscape that families must navigate each time they drop their children off at school.
The start of the new academic year thus represents both a return to normalcy and a reminder of how far from normal life in Iran remains. With schools in southern provinces still operating remotely, with parents scanning the skies for signs of danger, and with teachers balancing lesson plans against the possibility of new attacks, the resumption of education is a fragile achievement. The Minab school, its ruins standing alongside a replacement building, serves as a stark monument to what was lost and a warning of what could come again.
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