Syrian children returning to post-Assad Syria face major struggles with Arabic in education after years of exile

After years of exile in neighbouring states and Europe, Syrian families have begun returning to their homeland in waves. Some are motivated by the removal of security concerns following the fall of the Assad regime, while others are forced to return due to the expiration of residency permits in their countries of refuge.

However, many are finding their return isn’t as straightforward as they had imagined. The day-to-day reality of life in Syria after such a prolonged absence is presenting new and complex challenges, especially for children.

One of the most pressing issues is the lack of proficiency in Arabic among many children of returning families, who were educated in other languages.

Sami al-Khani’s story is one example. After spending years in Germany, Sami returned to his village in Rif Dimashq governorate with his small family, driven by his longing for his homeland and the hope of finding stability, something that had evaded them in exile.

However, Sami didn’t anticipate a new dilemma. His nine-year-old son, Omar, had been educated in German schools and was not fluent in Fusha (Modern Standard Arabic), the formal language used in academia, literature, and media. This created a significant barrier to his integration into the Syrian education sector, despite his initial excitement about "returning home."

“We tried to preserve the Arabic language at home as much as we could,” Sami explains. “We spoke in Arabic during meals and with family on the phone. But the truth is, Omar studied in German schools and has been influenced by the language and society there. His first language is now German, and Arabic has become more of a sentimental language for him, something he only uses in certain circumstances.”

When Omar started school in Syria, it was a “real shock,” according to Sami.

“He couldn’t understand the curriculum, the teachers’ explanations, and communicating with his classmates was difficult. He felt isolated and started refusing to go to school after just a few days.”

'We need help'

Omar’s case is far from unique, as many children of returning families are facing similar challenges, and Sami is particularly concerned that the school system is not equipped to address these issues.

“The teacher didn’t know how to handle my son’s situation. There was no language support or extra schooling. Instead, they just reprimanded him for not doing his homework, as if the problem was his, not the language gap that resulted from our years of living abroad.”

Despite the family's efforts to teach him Arabic at home, Sami admits it's difficult: "I work all day, and my wife isn't equipped with suitable teaching tools. We need help – an actual programme that will reintegrate our children into this new-old system."

Leila Ahmad, who returned to Syria from Lebanon after seven years of displacement, shares a similar experience with her daughter, Sara.

In Lebanon, Sara went to a private school where French was the language of instruction. Now, back in Aleppo, Sara is struggling to adjust to a state school where the curriculum is entirely in Arabic.

“The teachers think she’s stupid, but it’s not that,” Leila says. “She just doesn’t understand the language. I feel helpless every day when I see her come home crying. She was one of the top students at her school in Beirut, but now she can’t understand what’s being said in class. She gets negative feedback, as if she’s never been to school before.”

For Leila, the problem goes beyond just grades; it has had a significant impact on Sara’s mental health.

“She’s become withdrawn and anxious, feeling inferior to her classmates because she doesn’t understand the language. She’s developed a phobia of school. Every morning, she cries and refuses to go. I don’t know if returning to Syria was the right decision anymore,” Leila explains. 

Leila is now seeking private language lessons to help Sara catch up, but the additional tuition is putting a strain on the family’s finances.

“The lessons help, but they can’t make up for the lack of support at school. The school needs to find a way to accommodate these students, instead of treating them like strangers in their homeland.”

Loss of confidence

The challenges faced by children like Omar and Sara highlight a wider issue: the absence of official educational initiatives to support children returning from exile. This gap is threatening not only their academic futures but also their sense of cultural identity.

Nuha Gharib, a primary school teacher in Hama, expresses concern about the situation. “Teachers don’t have special training to handle these cases. There are no dedicated remedial classes or even school guidelines on how to integrate these students.”

She explains that teaching these children the same curriculum as their peers is difficult because they don’t understand the language. “They struggle with terminology and grammar, which leaves them at the bottom of the class, despite their intelligence and learning ability.”

She adds, "A student could be quick-thinking and understand non-verbal instructions easily, but they stumble as soon as we present a question or exercise in Modern Standard Arabic. At times, we see distressing situations, where children sit silently in class because they don’t understand what they’re being asked to do, or they think they are always wrong, gradually losing confidence in themselves.”

Nuha also points out that the language barrier affects more than just Arabic language lessons. “It impacts all subjects, especially those that require reading comprehension, like science, social studies, and even maths. When a student can’t understand the question, they won’t be able to solve the problem, even if they know the correct formula.”

Action needed

Currently, Nuha and her colleagues are putting in extra effort to help these students, but without the right training or supplementary materials, their impact remains limited.

Moreover, there is no educational plan from the government to address the unique needs of these children.

Syria’s education system, already struggling with a shortage of resources and personnel after years of war, also lacks the capacity to provide the specialised support these children require.

As a result, many students are at risk of dropping out or facing early academic failures, which could have serious long-term consequences.

Hussam Akram, an educational mentor, emphasises that the war didn’t just displace Syrian children physically; it also disrupted their linguistic identity. Many children born or raised in countries of refuge have lost close contact with Arabic, as the languages of their host countries were prioritised.

He further emphasises the importance of language in building a sense of identity and belonging, which most of these children lack, and adds that launching intensive language programmes and training teachers to handle such students is crucial, especially as more families return.

In early 2025, UNICEF reported that around 30 million children in the MENA region were being deprived of their right to education, particularly in countries affected by conflict and crisis.

The UN agency added that the ongoing conflicts in Sudan, Palestine, Syria, and other countries were causing a "massive reversal" of the region’s educational gains.

The organisation also warned that without urgent action, the education of a generation of children would be at risk.

Hadia Al Mansour is a freelance journalist from Syria who has written for Asharq Al-Awsat, Al-Monitor, SyriaUntold , and Rising for Freedom Magazine

Article translated from Arabic by Rose Chacko