Iranian Students Return to Classrooms as War's Shadow Lingers Over Education

Schools across Iran reopened last week for the start of the new academic year, but the return to in-person learning has unfolded against a backdrop of grief, anxiety and uncertainty nearly seven months after the United States and Israel launched a war that devastated the country's education system. In southern provinces including Minab, where one of the war's deadliest attacks occurred, classes at schools and universities will remain online for the first two weeks as a precaution against the threat of renewed US bombing.

The Shajareh-ye Tayyebeh Elementary School in Minab, bombed on the first day of the conflict, remains in ruins. A replacement building has been constructed on the site, but the school day is drastically shortened, with students attending for only about an hour to hear the bell mark the beginning of the new term. The original attack, a double-tap US strike near the school, killed at least 120 children and 35 adults as students were being evacuated on what should have been an ordinary start to the school week.

The humanitarian and legal dimensions of that strike continue to reverberate. United Nations findings released earlier this month indicated that the US strikes on Minab could constitute war crimes, a conclusion that has intensified international scrutiny of the conduct of the war. The UN assessment has fed into a broader diplomatic confrontation, with Iran's delegation to the UN General Assembly in late September presenting a narrative of resilience and diplomacy amid mounting accusations against Washington.

For families across Iran, the reopening of schools has revived painful memories rather than provided closure. Parents recall the chaos of the war's opening hours, when traffic-choked roads and repeated phone calls to schools yielded little information about their children's safety. Some abandoned their vehicles in the middle of streets and continued on foot in desperate attempts to reach their sons and daughters.

Meysam, the father of an 11-year-old in Tehran, described an anxiety he cannot dispel. He told Al Jazeera that he remains haunted by the thought of how long it would take him to reach his child's school if war resumed and parents were once again summoned to collect their children. Like other parents interviewed, he spoke on condition that only his first name be used, citing security concerns.

Hossein, whose child is in first grade in the capital, said the same fear accompanied him as he dropped his son at school on the first day. He described being unable to shake the thought that fighting could restart and a missile could strike the school while he was back at work. Such sentiments illustrate how the psychological toll of the war has become embedded in the daily routines of Iranian families.

The grief is most visceral for those who lost loved ones in the Minab attack. Faramarz, a 39-year-old teacher from the city, lost both his wife and one of his children in the bombing. He told Al Jazeera that his family of four had been deeply intertwined with the school, and that half of that family is now gone. He said he lives with a constant lump in his throat and a feeling that he has nothing left to lose.

Faramarz added that his seven-year-old daughter's schoolbag had contained nothing but a handful of dreams that no longer exist. While schools are reopening, he said, his own life will never return to normal. His account underscores the disproportionate burden borne by educators and students who were directly touched by the violence.

According to the Ministry of Education, 1,288 schools sustained direct or indirect damage during the war. Many of those facilities have since been repaired and new classrooms built, according to the ministry. The scale of the destruction offers a measure of how broadly the conflict disrupted schooling, extending well beyond the sites that drew international attention.

The ministry is also introducing what it calls a "Sacrifice and Martyrdom Bell" into the school curriculum, intended to help students learn about the impact of the two recent US-Israel wars on Iran. The initiative reflects an effort by authorities to frame the conflict for a generation of children who experienced it firsthand, though it is likely to remain a subject of debate among educators and families.

Anticipating the possibility of another round of fighting, the Education Ministry said it has strengthened its online learning infrastructure so that schools will encounter fewer obstacles if they are forced to return to virtual instruction. The measure signals that Iranian authorities are preparing for a prolonged period of instability rather than assuming the current calm will hold.

Teachers and parents, however, are already raising concerns about the academic and emotional consequences of the months children spent learning remotely. Amir, a 37-year-old high school teacher working on the outskirts of Tehran, said four of the nine months in the previous school year were conducted online because of the war. He said virtual education damaged relationships between students and teachers and made it nearly impossible to establish the routines he considers essential to children's wellbeing.

Amir explained that teachers are now planning lessons while being advised to pack as many group activities as possible into the first months of the year, precisely because of fears that hostilities could resume and push education back online. Zeinab, an elementary teacher in Tehran, said the prospect of a new cycle of violence is shaping how she approaches her classroom. She noted the difficulty of holding students' attention when fighter jets can be heard overhead, and warned that a return to remote learning would exclude students who lack internet access.

A video released on the first day of school captured the lingering sorrow among the youngest survivors. In it, a student from Shajareh-ye Tayyebeh spoke of his sadness that friends who once lived next door would no longer attend classes with him. "I miss them," he said, a simple statement that reflects a loss no reopening ceremony can undo.