I am a Kurdish-Syrian British PhD candidate conducting research on how primary school teachers in Aleppo navigated education during Syria’s civil war. My research goes beyond just academic interests; it is deeply personal. Having grown up in Rojava, Syrian Kurdistan, I witnessed firsthand the disruption and displacement inflicted by war on communities and educational institutions. Currently, through my doctoral work, I have the honour of listening to 28 Syrian educators share their stories of resilience, loss, and unwavering dedication to teaching under unimaginable circumstances. This blog reflects on the insights I have gained regarding how war and the poverty imposed upon families have fundamentally transformed education in Aleppo. These are not abstract statistics, but the lived realities of children, teachers, and families who have refused to allow the war to entirely extinguish the light of learning.
Aleppo, once Syria’s economic hub and the largest city, was famous for its ancient markets, vibrant cultural scene, and lively communities. When the civil war broke out in 2011, Aleppo quickly turned into one of the war’s most fierce battlegrounds. From 2012 to 2016, it faced constant bombing, sieges, and urban combat that destroyed many neighbourhoods. UNICEF reports that millions of Syrian children lost their education because of the war, with Aleppo experiencing some of the worst effects. Schools were targeted, families were displaced multiple times, and the educational system, built over generations, was destroyed in a matter of months. The city that once symbolised Syria’s prosperity now embodies the destructive power of war, which destroys not just buildings but also futures.
It is crucial to understand that poverty in Aleppo is not a pre-existing condition that families chose; it was violently imposed upon them by war. The civil war decimated the local economy, destroyed businesses, severed trade routes, and left countless families without livelihoods. Fathers who were shopkeepers, teachers, engineers, and craftsmen found their workplaces reduced to rubble. Mothers who managed households suddenly became sole providers as men were killed, detained, or forcibly conscripted. The World Bank has documented how Syria’s economy contracted by more than 60% during the war years, plunging millions into poverty. Families who once lived with dignity and security found themselves struggling for basic survival, unable to afford food, shelter, or medicine, let alone school fees or supplies. This war-induced poverty became the backdrop against which every educational decision was made, transforming education from a right into a luxury many simply could not afford.
The intersection of war and poverty created an educational crisis with devastating consequences for Aleppo’s children. As families’ economic situations became desperate, children were pulled from classrooms to contribute to household survival. Child labour, once relatively rare, became widespread as young boys worked in markets and workshops or scavenged for scrap metal, while young girls often stayed home to care for younger siblings or help with domestic work. The teachers I interviewed spoke heartbreakingly about watching their students disappear from school, knowing these children were not choosing work over education; they were sacrificing their futures so their families could eat today.
Even for children who remained in school, the quality of education deteriorated dramatically. Schools that managed to reopen after the worst fighting did so with almost nothing. Teachers described classrooms without desks where children sat on rubble or bare floors. Lessons were conducted without whiteboards, textbooks, pens, or paper. One educator told me that students shared a single pencil, taking turns to write because families could not afford to buy more. Science laboratories stood empty, libraries had been looted or burned, and basic teaching materials were luxuries from another lifetime. UNICEF reports that over 2 million Syrian children remain out of school, while those who attend often receive severely compromised education in damaged buildings with untrained teachers and minimal resources.
Throughout my research, interviewing these dedicated educators, I have been profoundly moved by their resilience and grief. These teachers continued showing up to classrooms, sometimes in basements during shelling, sometimes in tents, sometimes in half-destroyed buildings, because they believed education was their students’ only hope for a different future. Yet I also heard the pain in their voices when they spoke about bright students they lost to child labour, talented children whose potential was buried under the weight of poverty, and entire cohorts whose childhood was stolen by circumstances beyond anyone’s control.
As a Kurdish woman who fled war myself, their stories resonated deeply with my own experiences of displacement and educational disruption. But as a researcher, I also recognise the privilege I now have to amplify their voices and contribute to understanding how communities can maintain education even in the darkest times. These teachers’ experiences offer invaluable insights into educational resilience, but they also serve as a stark reminder of what war costs, not just in the immediate destruction, but in the generations of lost potential.
The children of Aleppo represent both the tragedy of war and the possibility of recovery. Education is not simply about literacy and numeracy; it is about restoring dignity, rebuilding community, and offering children a pathway beyond the trauma they have endured. International attention and sustained support for educational reconstruction in Syria are not acts of charity; they are investments in a more stable, peaceful future for the entire region.
As I continue my doctoral research, I am committed to ensuring that the voices of Aleppo’s teachers and the experiences of their students are heard by policymakers, educators, and researchers worldwide. Their struggles and their resilience offer profound lessons about human capacity to maintain hope and purpose even when everything else has been taken away. The children of Aleppo deserve more than sympathy; they deserve the resources, support, and commitment necessary to reclaim the education that war tried to steal from them.
About the Author:
Jian Bakir’s current research at the University of Roehampton examines education in times of conflict, with a particular focus on understanding the experiences of primary school teachers in Aleppo during the Syrian Civil War. Her research investigates the impact of the Civil War on children’s education and the teachers who serve them in the most challenging environments.
Jian’s research findings reveal an urgent need to support teachers in Aleppo through targeted interventions addressing their mental health, well-being, and teaching strategies. This work is driven by her commitment to understanding and improving learning conditions where they are needed most.
With a solid background in early childhood education and hands-on experience as a Teacher Assistant, Jian brings practical insight into the educational needs of children affected by conflict. Her multilingual abilities in English, Kurdish, and Arabic, developed through her bilingual support role at Surrey County Council, enable her to navigate complex cultural landscapes and contribute meaningfully to international academic discourse on education in conflict contexts.