In Gaza City, the sound of children learning can be heard once again.
The tents that now serve as classrooms are noisy and a little chaotic but lively. Some teachers point to boards covered in English letters; others invite pupils to come forward and write basic Arabic words.
It is nowhere near a normal school day. But after the Israel-Hamas ceasefire in October, it's a start.
After two years of war, the hum of lessons and chatter of classmates resonates around the ruins of what was once Lulwa Abdel Wahab al-Qatami School, in the Tel al-Hawa neighbourhood in the south-western part of Gaza City.
It was hit in January 2024, and for months afterwards, its grounds served as a shelter for displaced families. Today, it is again a place of learning - albeit in a more basic form.
Walking in a straight line, their small arms resting on each other's shoulders, pupils smile as they head into the makeshift classrooms.
For many, this is the first return to routine and education since the war began.
According to Unicef, more than 97% of schools in Gaza were damaged or destroyed during the war. The IDF has made repeated claims that Hamas uses civilian infrastructure including schools to carry out operations but has rarely provided solid evidence.
Of the Strip's 658,000 school-aged children, most have had no formal education for nearly two years. During that time, many learned first-hand how hunger, displacement and death can shape their young lives. Now, something rare is emerging: a fragile glimpse of the childhoods they once knew.
Fourteen-year-old Naeem al-Asmaar used to attend this school before it was destroyed. He lost his mother in an Israeli air strike during the war.
It was the hardest thing I've ever been through, he says quietly.
Although he was displaced for months, Naeem's home in Gaza City survived. After the ceasefire, he returned with his family.
I missed being in school a lot, Naeem said adding that the difference is stark.
Before the war, school was in real classrooms. Now it's tents. We only study four subjects. There isn't enough space. The education is not the same - but being here matters. School fills all my time and I really needed that.
Rital Alaa Harb, a ninth-grade student who once studied here too, wants to become a dentist.
Displacement affected my education completely, she says. There was no time to study. No schools. I missed my friends so much - and I miss my old school.
The makeshift school is run by Unicef and brings together children from the original Lulwa school and others displaced by the war.
It does not teach the full Palestinian curriculum - only the basics: Arabic, English, mathematics and science.
Dr Mohammed Saeed Schheiber, the principal, took over management of the site in mid-November. We started with determination to compensate students for what they lost, he says.
The school currently serves 1,100 boys and girls, operating in three shifts a day - with boys attending on alternating days from girls. There are just 24 teachers.
Before the war, our students learned in fully equipped schools - science labs, computer labs, internet access, educational resources. All of that is gone, Dr Schheiber laments.
There is no electricity. No internet. Many children are struggling with trauma.
More than 100 students at the school lost one or both parents, had their homes destroyed, or witnessed killings during the war. In total, every student has been affected in some way. A counsellor runs psychological support sessions to help children process what they’ve endured.
Despite the effort, demand far exceeds capacity. We have more than a thousand students here already, but only six classrooms per shift. A large displacement camp next to the school has many children wanting to enroll. We simply cannot take them, Dr Schheiber notes.
For parents, the return to school brings relief as well as anxiety. Huda Bassam al-Dasouki, a mother of five displaced from southern Rimal, states, It's not that education doesn't exist, it's that it's extremely difficult. She emphasizes the challenges faced in securing school supplies due to rising costs and availability.
Despite the ceasefire, Israel's bombardment in Gaza continues, reflecting ongoing tensions. Yet, the children keep coming for education, highlighting a resolve to reclaim their futures through learning.
Kholoud Habib, a teacher at the school, encapsulates this spirit: Education is our foundation. As Palestinians, it is our capital. We lose homes. We lose money. We lose everything. But knowledge - it’s an investment we can still give our children.
