The schools that keep South Lebanon rooted

When Serena Nehme graduated high school from Saints-Coeurs in Jdeidet Marjeyoun in mid-June, there was no ceremony, no graduation party, and no prom. For her class of approximately 30 students, the school year ended much as it had unfolded over its final three months: online.

School moved online almost immediately after war broke out between Hezbollah and Israel on March 2. It remained that way for the rest of the school year.

The transition did not come easily. Earlier in the war, Serena lost internet access for a month and a half. She relied on recorded lessons to teach herself the material, a process she described as difficult.

Serena’s school sits in the Marjayoun district along Lebanon's southeastern border with Israel, one of the areas most affected by the war.  For much of the country, the ceasefire that took effect on April 16 marked a turning point. In southern Lebanon, it never fully arrived.

Between April 17 and June 7, Israel carried out 3,491 airstrikes, 407 controlled demolitions and six large-scale razing operations, according to figures released by Prime Minister Nawaf Salam's office. The campaign left entire villages along Lebanon's southern border almost flattened.. Although Israel and Lebanon signed a U.S.-brokered framework agreement on Friday, June 26, establishing a roadmap toward a broader settlement, its implementation, and its effect in southern Lebanon, remain uncertain.

On Monday morning, the Israeli military carried out extensive heavy machine-gun fire in the town of Khiam, according to Lebanon's National News Agency.

Khiam is visible from the top floor of Saints-Coeurs, just 6–7 kilometers to the southeast. Much of it has been reduced to rubble. About 10 kilometers to the west, Beaufort Castle, the medieval fortress seized by Israeli forces on May 31, rises above the surrounding hills. Driving toward Deir Mimas, the castle remains in view above the ridgeline for much of the journey.

No pictures of the castle — or Khiam — are allowed, however. School staff say images of the surrounding area could expose nearby locations to Israeli strikes.

Scenes of destruction in Deir Mimas, Marjeyoun District

Beyond the physical destruction, the sounds of the war are never far. Cracks and explosions pepper the otherwise quiet landscape. Sometimes the smoke from the shelling leaves behind a burning smell. Some are louder than others but all serve as a reminder that the war is never far away.

It’s “background music,” a group of residents joked. The remark drew laughter, if only briefly. In Marjeyoun, they added, the war never stopped.

For the residents of these southern communities, this continued military campaign has meant months of uncertainty and the constant threat of renewed violence. For the students, it has also meant a school year marked by isolation, stress, and stalled learning.

“Everything is uncertain, and it’s difficult to cope,” Serena said.

We are a country alone here. We are losing our hope and spark.

Keeping the school, keeping the village

Across southern Lebanon, Serena’s circumstances are shared by thousands of students.

According to Lebanon's 2024 Statistical Bulletin, 211,700 of its 1,079,048 students attend schools across the South Lebanon and Nabatieh governorates. Nationwide, however, only 28 percent of students are enrolled in public schools, leaving most families dependent on private institutions like Saints-Coeurs.

Many also remain among the few institutions serving both Christian and Muslim students. At Saints-Coeurs, roughly 490 students are enrolled, about 60 percent Christian and 40 percent Muslim. At nearby Marjayoun National College, approximately 450 students are split almost evenly between the two communities.

In a region where displacement remains a constant possibility, schools have become one of the strongest anchors keeping communities intact.

That idea has guided the Lebanese nonprofit Nawraj for the past 16 years. Rather than focusing solely on emergency assistance, it works alongside mayors, parishes and local organizations to strengthen frontline communities through education, healthcare and local economic development. During the current war, that has meant organizing humanitarian convoys, installing satellite communication systems when conventional networks failed, and raising funds to keep schools open.

Its latest campaign is raising funds to support eight frontline schools serving nearly 2,500 students across 15 villages in Ain Ebel, Debel, Marjayoun, Al Qleyaa and Rmeich, helping families keep their children enrolled despite the financial strain of war.

“If they leave the village, then they're completely cutting all the bridges with their motherland,” said Dr. Fouad Abou Nader, founder of Nawraj.

Particularly given Israel’s efforts to physically cut the south off from the rest of the country through the destruction of key infrastructure such as roads and villages, engagement from organizations like Nawraj has taken on added significance.

“Restoring hope can make a tremendous difference,” he said. “Fifty percent is hope and motivation. Fifty percent is schools, jobs, and money.”

The depth of that attachment became evident after rockets struck Saints-Coeurs on May 28, partially damaging the school. Soeur Hiam Habib recalled children as young as three calling to ask how they could help rebuild it.

To Abou Nader, those children had summed up the logic behind the campaign.

"If you keep the school open, you keep the family. If you keep the family, you keep the village," he said.

School is the foundation of the land and of life.

Learning through war

Keeping schools open, however, has required constant adaptation.