NGOs primarily manage formal education in the Rohingya camps. Children learn only a minimal curriculum, covering a few basic classes with no opportunity to progress further. Outside of these formal initiatives, the Rohingya community has created two alternative education systems within the camps: one focused on madrasa education, and the other on private schooling. In this two-part series, we explore these two alternative educational paths. Documenting his experiences from the Rohingya camps, Mir Hojaifa Al Mamduh presents their stories. In today’s second installment, we explore the story of the Rohingya private schooling program, modeled after the Burmese education system.
January 10, 2019, Camp-6: Two years had passed since the massive Rohingya influx into Bangladesh in 2017. Life in the camps had settled into a grim stillness. One day, Mohammad Ilyas, the head majhi (community leader) of Camp-6, sat with a few friends—Noor Kabir, Naimatullah, and a couple of others—discussing the future.
Ilyas expressed his concern: “The children in our community have no education, no productive activities to fill their days. If they remain idle, it won’t be long before they fall into crime. What answer will we give to Allah if this generation is lost?”
This concern led Ilyas to call a meeting two days later with his trusted group of friends. The agenda was clear: to create a plan to educate Rohingya children and reduce the likelihood of their involvement in crime.
The group decided to identify literate individuals in the camp who could teach and establish a school. To avoid clashing with the schedules of NGOs and government activities, they planned classes from 6:00 to 8:00 in the morning and again from 4:00 to 6:00 in the afternoon. This way, they could offer four hours of lessons daily, covering grades 1 through 10.
When the plan was shared with the Camp-in-Charge (CIC) officer, Arif Faisal Khan, he approved and promised support. However, he emphasized that Bengali could not be taught.
“We started our first lessons in a small madrasa within Camp-6,” Ilyas recalled. “Soon, we needed a proper school building, which required funds. Each of the five friends contributed 10,000 taka. With some help from friends and family abroad, as well as a few well-off camp residents, we managed to raise 80,000 taka to rent a building. Sadly, a Turkish NGO later took over that space.”
Despite this, they pressed on. Initially, the school used printed PDFs of Myanmar’s curriculum, but later, Ilyas and his team arranged for textbooks to be smuggled in from Myanmar at high costs. Eventually, students began printing their own books from PDFs. Teachers also contributed; each gave 1,000 taka monthly, while Ilyas provided 10,000, and the others 7,000 each. Donations from overseas relatives and friends helped cover supplies.
In the first month alone, the school enrolled 969 students, attracting children from neighboring camps. As the model spread to other camps, Camp-6 remained a pioneer, consistently teaching 800–900 students annually. Currently, the school serves about 1,000 students.
To sustain operations, the school began charging minimal fees to cover materials and provide small stipends for teachers. Students in grades 9–12 pay 200 taka monthly, those in grades 5–8 pay 100–150 taka, and younger children pay nothing.
“We wish we could pay teachers 5,000 taka monthly,” Ilyas shared. “It would recognize their hard work and improve our reputation. Currently, senior teachers receive 2,200 taka, and junior teachers get 1,500.”
A Teacher-Led Institution
The school’s principal is chosen through teacher votes, ensuring inclusive leadership. Noor Kabir, the current principal, takes pride in their 21 dedicated teachers. “We recruit the best teachers from within the camps and even Myanmar. Last September, a distinguished Burmese teacher joined us after fleeing Myanmar. He’s a treasure for our school.”
The curriculum, initially limited to grade 10, now includes grades 11 and 12, aligning with recent changes in Myanmar’s education system.
Challenges for Girls’ Education
While efforts were made to include women, societal barriers persist. In the early days, 170 girls attended the school. Harassment and stigmatization reduced the number to 136, with six female teachers supporting them. Classes for girls now only go up to grade 7, though two students have advanced to higher studies at the Asian University for Women.
Overcoming Resistance
Initially, NGOs opposed the initiative. “We didn’t interfere with their schedules, so why should they stop us?” Ilyas explained. “Our classes were before and after NGO hours, and our students wouldn’t attend NGO schools anyway. Most of their current teachers were our students.”
Principal Kabir added, “The education provided by NGOs is superficial. They focus on limited lessons stretched over weeks, offer snacks, and complete paperwork during class hours. It’s not meaningful education.”
Hopes for the Future
The educated among the Rohingya community remain committed to ensuring their children have a better future. “If we ever return to Myanmar, we want to rebuild a beautiful country,” Ilyas said. “But the politics and economics of displacement are robbing this generation of its potential. We can only hope for a more compassionate world.”
