In Palestine, few milestones carry as much weight for students as the Tawjihi exam. More than a test, it is a turning point that can define a young person’s future, deciding their path to university, scholarships, and careers.
For generations, Tawjihi has been a rite of passage etched into collective memory, shaping not just individual lives but the aspirations of entire families.
But this year, the exam was not held as usual across all of Palestine.
In the occupied West Bank, the academic year proceeded as normally as possible. Students managed to sit for the exams on schedule, though they faced serious challenges, including settler attacks and Israeli army checkpoints.
"My Tawjihi year was full of challenges, the biggest being the [Israeli] occupation," 18-year-old Raghad Mohammad Mahamid told The New Arab.
"I live in a village near Jenin, and classes were held in the city, but the constant raids made getting there difficult. Some days, we were able to go to school and continue lessons, while on others, we had to stay home,” the young student added.
"When the soldiers came out, the streets were destroyed, and shops were damaged."
Raghad explained that many teachers were not from the same village, which led to difficulties due to raids and harassment by Israeli forces. This resulted in the loss of many classes. But resilient students did their best to keep going despite the hardships, sometimes turning to online classes.
In Gaza, however, the reality was starkly different.
For the second consecutive year, Gaza's Ministry of Education could not administer the exam due to Israel’s ongoing genocide and blockade, turning Tawjihi dreams into a mirror of suffering and Palestinian division.
"My heart aches for the students of Gaza," Raghad said. "They are deprived of basic education despite their intelligence and patience. The Tawjihi represents a new stage in a student’s life, yet the occupation obstructs their education and denies them this fundamental right."
Exams in exile
Some Gaza students were able to escape Israel’s horrors by going abroad to take the exam through Palestinian embassies.
According to the Palestinian Ministry of Education, around 2,000 students managed to leave the besieged Strip and will sit the exams in 37 countries.
Official exam halls have been coordinated in seven countries, while others will hold the exams at Palestinian embassies and missions.
Saja Majed Jabr Siyam, a Gaza student, took the exam in Egypt after fleeing the bombardment with her mother after about seven months.
"It was painful to leave my friends in Gaza. I felt like I was doing something wrong by sitting for the Tawjihi exams while they were denied the chance. I wished we could have shared this moment and celebrated our success together,” the 18-year-old told The New Arab.
Saja says this experience left a deep mark on her emotionally, especially with the absence of her father, who she described as "the pillar and main supporter” in her life.
Despite living in constant fear and anxiety, Saja insists that her determination and willpower were what enabled her to overcome all obstacles and achieve success.
A stolen education
The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) reported that more than 76,000 students born in 2006 and 2007 in Gaza have been unable to take the Tawjihi over the past two academic years.
The catastrophe went further: Gaza, once home to students on the national honour lists, according to the Palestinian Ministry of Education, lost more than 16,879 students and 734 educational staff. More than 160 schools have been bombed, making it tragically normal for students to now appear on martyr lists instead of honour rolls.
"I never imagined, even in my worst nightmares, that I would lose two school years because of the war, unable to pursue my dreams or move forward,” 19-year-old Mohammed Al-Taaban told The New Arab.
"I feel powerless chasing my future, and I miss the classrooms I once avoided. I remember the end of the Tawjihi exams for the class last year. I went and sat at the gate of my school, Khalid ibn Al-Walid, reflecting on how we ended up like this. The classrooms were filled with displaced students from the north instead of my classmates and teachers,” the exhausted student shares.
"Today, having lost another year, the sadness no longer weighs on me as it did last year, perhaps because I’ve realised we lost things more precious than a year or two of schooling… we have lost our homeland and our people."
When asked about the major he aspires to study if given the chance to take the Tawjihi and attend university, Mohammed said: "I want to study medicine, to be like Dr Marwan al-Sultan, who was assassinated by the occupation, or Dr Hossam Abu Safieh and Dr Mohammed Taher, who performed complex surgeries under nearly impossible conditions, reattaching the arm of a nine-year-old girl amputated due to bombing in Deir al-Balah, central Gaza Strip.
"I don’t want to be an ordinary doctor in a wealthy European country with ideal conditions; I want to be with my people, with those in desperate need. I want to be a doctor who devotes his life to serving his homeland, staying at his post in the hardest times, and believing in the sanctity of the profession."
With the announcement of results, students in the West Bank and in exile hesitate to celebrate, mindful of the hardships faced by their peers in Gaza.
For students like Raghad, Saja, and Mohammed, what story will they tell their children about the Tawjihi and this world? Will it be a story of resilience amid horrific circumstances or a tale of the world’s complicity in their suffering?
Hassan Abo Qamar is a young Palestinian writer, activist, and storyteller based in Gaza, sharing the stories of those living through war and siege
Follow him on Instagram: @hassanaboqamarr