I Used to Teach My Sisters.
Now I learn for myself.

Layan is 11 years old. She is the oldest daughter. In Gaza’s context, this means you become a second mother in a glimpse.

For two years, Layan had to abandon her school. She stayed in the tent and taught her two little sisters what she remembered from third grade. She drew letters in the sand with a stick. A, B, C. She counted stones with them. One, two, three.

“

“I was their teacher,” she told us at the Rafah Academy. “But I missed being a student. I was teaching them the same letters every day as I was afraid I would forget the next ones.”

When we opened the learning corner for writing, Layan sat down and did not get up for an hour. Our teachers thought she was struggling. She wasn’t. She was writing everything we had on the board, word by word, as if she were collecting it.

We asked her, “How does it feel to be back?”

“

She said, “In the tent, I was pretending to be a teacher so my sisters wouldn’t feel they lost everything. Here, I don’t have to pretend. I am finally back to learning. For the first time in two years, I am not just a giver. I am getting the classes I need.”

At GCV, we encounter dozens of stories like hers. They carry their families. Our job is to let them put that weight down for a few hours and just be 11 years old again.

Layan now has a notebook of her own. It is not for her sisters. It is for her. On the first page, she wrote, “This is for my future. I want to be a real teacher one day.”

When an older sister returns to her own grade, the whole tent feels the difference. Her sisters now have someone to look up to who is actually going to school again.