It is 9am and the maths lesson has already begun. A little girl carefully picks up a LEGO block and adds it to a small brick tower. She picks another, then moves to the next activity. There is no pressure to keep pace with anyone else. A teacher watches closely, offering guidance when needed and stepping back when independence takes over.
Before sunrise, Hajara Abubakar and Ramatu Mustapha begin their walk from Koda village to their school in Ingawa town. The 5km journey takes them along a dusty red road that stretches between thick clumps of trees. With their schoolbags slung over their shoulders, they walk in silence. Because they are both Deaf, they cannot hear the roar of speeding vehicles or motorcycles coming up behind them.
On a quiet morning at Greenland Girls School in Kajiado County, overlooking the Oloolaiser hills, teenage mothers move between classrooms and childcare duties, a routine blending two worlds rarely seen together in Kenyan schools. In one compound, infants nap and play in a supervised space while their mothers attend lessons a few metres away.
For seven weeks after arriving in England, Saber was homeless. Having left Sudan because of conflict and been separated from his family at 18, he was trying to rebuild his life in an unfamiliar country. Unable to speak English and without stable accommodation, tasks such as accessing support services, sending emails and contacting local organisations became daily challenges. Less than a year later, Saber is studying English at college and attending classes with Learn English at Home (LEAH) in Heston, London.
When the 2025 school exam season began, 15-year-old Proscovia Nakiria was no longer attending classes. Five months pregnant, the high-school student in Kumi District, north-eastern Uganda, watched her world shrink. She says some teachers sent her out of class because of her pregnancy, classmates avoided her and her home offered little comfort. As the pressure mounted, she dropped out.
“If I’m not revising for exams, I feel this panic in my chest, but the panic also stops me focusing on the revision when I try and do it”.
This is a typical worry shared by young people calling Childline, a UK charity focused on children’s safety and well-being. The charity sees "a spike in contacts" at the start of exam season each May, according to Cormac Nolan, Childline’s service head.
On a rainy Friday afternoon, Justin Nguyen reviews English grammar on his computer before a tutoring session with a middle school student in Birmingham, Alabama. His approach to teaching is rooted in his own experience of learning English after arriving in the US from Vietnam with his family as a child.
Lia and her mother, Nada
The art of healing
Dr Baraa Malik
Before I tell you about a conflict, let me tell you about a laugh. It belongs to my sister Lia. It is loud and a little chaotic, the kind that spills out of her without warning and fills every corner of a room. She is six years old. She likes colouring. She fills pages with bright yellows and soft pinks, pressing the crayon down slowly, carefully, like someone who has learned that calm is something you have to practise.
Silvina Miranda sits outside the classroom at Matche Ta ïs. Photograph by Gabriel Borndones.
A community turns a corner
Carolina Riera
During the 2020 pandemic in Argentina, hundreds of thousands of schools closed and moved their activities online. But entire communities were left behind. For those already facing huge barriers in accessing education, the pandemic only made things worse. Many children had no access to a computer, a cellphone, internet or someone to help them with their schoolwork. Primary school teacher Silvina Miranda decided to take matters into her own hands.
