Yemen's Displaced Children Face Deepening Education Crisis as Fighting Intensifies

The renewed eruption of fighting in Yemen's Taiz governorate has uprooted thousands of families and pushed yet another generation of children away from the classroom, compounding what was already one of the world's most severe education emergencies. In displacement camps scattered across the Wadi Bani Khawlan area of Jabal Habashi district, children who once walked to school each morning now spend their days idling under tent canvas, their school bags left behind in villages they fled amid gunfire and explosions.

Among them is twelve-year-old Ahmed, who escaped his home village of al-Ashroh, west of Taiz city, roughly two weeks ago. Speaking to Al Jazeera, he described camp life as monotonous and said he longs for the routines he lost — the morning walk to class, the company of teachers and friends, and the weight of the school bag he abandoned in his haste to escape. He does not know whether he will ever retrieve it or return to his classroom.

Ahmed's predicament reflects a broader catastrophe. According to UNICEF, more than 137,000 students across conflict-affected parts of Yemen have lost access to education as hundreds of schools suspend operations. The same United Nations agency reported that over 57,000 children were displaced during just the first two weeks of September as a result of the renewed hostilities, a figure expected to climb as the violence persists.

The latest escalation marks a rupture after four years of relative calm. Clashes between Houthi forces and fighters loyal to Yemen's internationally recognized government intensified sharply in August and September, delivering a fresh blow to a school system already buckling under years of war. The conflict, which began with the Houthi takeover of Sanaa in 2014, had already displaced more than five million Yemenis before this latest wave. The United Nations announced on October 2 that the renewed fighting had forced more than 150,000 people from their homes, with that number anticipated to rise further.

For families arriving in displacement camps, survival needs immediately overshadow schooling. Ahmed explained that before the war reached his home, his family monitored his homework and cared about his academic progress. Now, he said, no one in the camp concerns themselves with education, because families are consumed by the search for tents, food and water. Humanitarian organizations attempting to meet those basic needs face enormous strain, leaving little capacity to address the educational void.

Mohammed Radman, a displacement coordinator with the Executive Unit for IDP Camp Management in Jabal Habashi district, painted a grim picture of the options available to displaced students. He told Al Jazeera that thousands of students have been displaced and forced to set their education aside under what he called horrific circumstances. Radman explained that all schools near the front lines have closed, and even families willing to send their children several kilometres to functioning schools find those facilities already overcrowded and unable to absorb displaced learners.

Radman categorized schools in conflict-affected areas into three groups: those repurposed to shelter displaced families, those already overcrowded beyond capacity, and those located on or near active front lines. Each category presents distinct obstacles, and together they create what he described as a genuine challenge for Yemeni society, the government and international organizations alike.

The scale of the pre-existing crisis underscores how much worse the situation may become. UNICEF reported that 3.2 million children in Yemen were already out of school before the latest escalation. With the new and ongoing wave of displacement, advocates warn that the ordeal facing Yemeni children is poised to deteriorate significantly. Tawfiq al-Humaidi, president of the SAM Organization for Rights and Liberties, cautioned that the war leaves children vulnerable to homelessness, begging and potential forced recruitment into armed groups. Alternatives to the classroom, he said, are simply not safe.

Al-Humaidi also warned that the educational disruption caused by displacement could endure long after the fighting subsides. Prolonged stays in displacement camps, he explained, can entrench children in new daily routines and make their eventual return to school increasingly difficult. The repercussions, he added, extend beyond lost lessons to the erosion of the social and psychological protection that schools provide. When schools close, children face elevated risks of violence, exploitation, recruitment and child labour.

Teachers on the ground describe near-impossible conditions for instruction. Abdulkarim, a teacher in Taiz who asked that his full name not be published, told Al Jazeera that education cannot take place when students hear explosions, fear bullets and live in flimsy tents. He recounted seeing small children weep at the sound of heavy gunfire. His priority, he said, is establishing a safe environment; only then can students be accommodated in functioning schools or alternative learning centres.

Afrah al-Humaiqani, a sociologist based in Aden, warned that the recent hostilities risk denying thousands of students access to education and could produce what she called a new illiterate generation in Yemen. She nonetheless suggested that the damage can be mitigated if the Yemeni government and international organizations cooperate and coordinate their efforts, though the article notes her remarks were cut off mid-sentence.

The cumulative effect of these overlapping crises — displacement, school closures, overcrowding, poverty and insecurity — places enormous strain on a country whose education system was already among the most fragile in the world. For children like Ahmed, the dream of returning to school remains distant, contingent on a peace that has yet to materialize and a humanitarian response struggling to keep pace with the scale of need.