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‘Their future could be destroyed’: the global struggle for schooling after Covid closures | Global education

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The Philippines

Children’s mental health suffers as schools remain shut

It’s been 18 months since children in the Philippines last set foot in a classroom. The country, which has had some of the world’s toughest Covid restrictions for children, is one of just five globally that have not reopened schools at all since the Covid crisis began, according to Unicef.

Families are exhausted by the measures. Dorina Monsanto, who lives in a busy neighbourhood in Cogeo, a village just outside Manila, has six children, including four who are at school.

The children struggle to get access online lessons. At first, Monsanto’s boss gave her a phone, which was shared between her daughters Giselle Marie, 15, and Julianna, 12. They would take turns watching classes, but arguments would break out when, inevitably, they both needed to log in at the same time. Their modest home, which is shared by eight relatives, including a noisy two-year-old, is not a good place to study.

The phone has since broken, and the daughters have to use Monsanto’s mobile. If she needs to go out to work, they have no way to access classes.

Even when she is at home, the data connection is poor as the entire neighbourhood tries to use the internet.

Monsanto worries that Giselle Marie, whose grades have fallen, has become worn down by the past 18 months. “They’re losing the drive to learn. Even if they want to study, if they can’t understand what they are studying, it’s useless. They need a teacher. I can’t help them because I didn’t learn what they are learning now,” she says.

Child advocates in the Philippines warn that the prolonged closure of schools has created a crisis not just across education, but also for children’s mental health, wellbeing and safety.

At least 1.1 million pupils did not enrol at school during the last academic year, after the pandemic hit and remote learning was implemented. Charities say those who fall out of the education system are at greater risk of child marriage and other forms of abuse. Last year, the Philippines justice department said reports of online sexual exploitation of children increased by 264% during the first few months of lockdown.

“Without serious, active intervention, many of these children [who drop out] will never get back into education,” said Rowena Legaspi, executive director of the Children’s Legal Rights and Development Center. “This will be a significant loss both at the individual level for them and their families, and also at the societal level.”

On top of the closure of schools, children in Manila and some other provinces have also lived with tough restrictions that, until July, barred them even from entering parks and playgrounds. Now cases in the capital region have begun to rise again, driven by the Delta variant, and the toughest lockdown measures have been reintroduced.

Rules have been enforced harshly by police and barangay tanods (village watchmen), who activists say have arrested children found to be outside their homes, and at times inflicted humiliating or brutal punishments. Children who are homeless, or who have no option but to be outside in search of work, are especially vulnerable.

Even for children who have remained indoors, the impact on their mental health has been immense. “Just imagine for one and a half years you’ve been confined at home,” said Shiena Base of Educo Philippines, a child rights NGO.

Base said the government should reopen schools in low-risk areas in rural settings, where children are often even less well-equipped to study online.

The government is preparing a pilot scheme, involving about 120 schools in areas where cases are low, to trial a resumption of face-to-face classes.

Children’s charities fear the current crisis could be felt for generations to come. “I wasn’t able to finish my studies. I wish my children will have a better future,” said Monsanto.
Carmela Fonbuena and Rebecca Ratcliffe

Ambreen Warsi’s home is a single room in a slum in Mumbai, accessed via a steep ladder. She spent her first year as a college student taking classes in the alley where the internet connection is better.
Ambreen Warsi’s home is a single room in a slum in Mumbai, accessed via a steep ladder. She spent her first year as a college student taking classes in the alley where the internet connection is better. Photograph: Kavitha Iyer

India

Poorest students face digital learning gap

Sonali Kate, 12, spent her entire third-grade year learning to cook and clean for her family, who live in Bandra’s Nargis Dutt Nagar slum, in suburban Mumbai. She would wake at 7am, sweep their 19 sq metre home and squat in the narrow alley to wash dishes from the previous night’s meal while her brothers played cricket with other boys.

In Maharashtra, where Mumbai is located, the state government has deferred school reopening this term amid fears of a third wave of Covid-19 cases. Sonali will attend online classes using a new smartphone provided by a local charity. But she is nervous about returning to learning. “Everything is unfamiliar,” she says about her study material. “My work is incomplete in history, geography, mathematics – in all the subjects. The others in class are far ahead.”

Since 2017, the Maharashtra government has operated free-to-use wifi hotspots across the city, but people living in Sonali’s settlement have not been able to access this or the free wifi offered at railway stations.

A survey in August 2020 of nearly 250,000 pupils at 1,100 municipal schools that cater to children living in Mumbai’s slums found one in three were not attending online classes. Among those surveyed, 76% did not own a smartphone and 43% could not access an internet connection.

Elsewhere across India, schools are reopening cautiously, but as in Mumbai, tens of thousands of pupils from poor or marginalised communities face a vast learning gap after months of absence or poor access to the internet and devices.

The Annual Status of Education Report (Aser) 2020, published in February by the charity Pratham, found digital teaching was “not impressive” in India. Only 62% of households surveyed had smartphones. The Aser data confirmed that India’s poorest pupils would be worst hit by the prolonged closure of schools, on account of wider learning disadvantages but also loss of nutrition through the state-funded free midday meal in all non-private schools.

Schools in at least five Indian states, including in the capital, Delhi, have resumed in-person classes with safety measures that include staggered lunch breaks, optional attendance, and limited seating in classrooms.

However, not all pupils will return to school in these areas. In the capital, only classes nine to 12 can choose to attend. Tamil Nadu, a large southern state, has a similar model.

In the Nargis Dutt Nagar slum, Sonali’s neighbour Almana Shaikh, 14, is the only child in her household still in school, after both her brothers dropped out. “Buying data packs [for phones] has been difficult,” says the class 10 pupil. Her father, who used to drive an auto-rickshaw for a living, has been at home with a substance addiction. Her brothers are unpaid apprentices in a garage, and her mother’s wages as a domestic help barely pay for essentials. “Sometimes I missed classes for weeks at a stretch even though I received a phone from a voluntary organisation,” Almana says.

Learning outcomes of the digital academic year are also unclear – neither Almana nor Sonali received an end-of-year report or grades, though they took exams and were told they had been promoted to the next class.
Kavitha Iyer

Tanaka Maunganidze, 9, plays football with his friends in Mbare, one of Zimbabwe’s oldest townships.
Tanaka Maunganidze, 9, plays football with his friends in Mbare, one of Zimbabwe’s oldest townships. Photograph: Nyasha Chingono

Zimbabwe

Parents struggle to pay rising school fees

In the sweltering September heat, a group of boys tussle for a plastic ball on a dusty street in Mbare, one of Zimbabwe’s oldest townships.

Tanaka Maunganidze, 9, dribbles past his opponents towards a makeshift goal. As he scores, his friends erupt in joy.

In a black T-shirt and grey tracksuit bottoms, Tanaka is the team star and dazzles passersby who look on as the boys play.

This has been their daily routine since schools were closed in again March this year as Zimbabwe entered a deadly third wave of Covid-19 infections. Since the start of the pandemic schools have been closed for 12 months in total.

According to Unicef, coronavirus has affected the learning of 4.6 million children in Zimbabwe.

For Tanaka and his friends, playing football has kept them out of trouble in the drug and crime-ridden township in the capital, Harare.

Paces away from the match, Virginia Chitakunya, 42, a clothing vendor, is drying her sons’ shoes as she prepares for schools to reopen.

The government gave parents less than a week to prepare for the reopening and a rise in school fees means many cannot afford to send their children back.

“I was never ready for the reopening of schools and my savings are not enough to pay fees for my three school-going children. I will have to go and beg the school headmaster to let me come up with a payment plan,” Chitakunya says.

On a good day the mother of five makes $10 (£7), which is not enough to support the family, let alone pay school fees.

“Money will never be enough for us here; I just have to make sure my children go back to school. I desperately need them to go back because staying at home will destroy their future. The fees have been hiked but I just have to hustle through this term,” she says.

Although most parents in Mbare may not get their children back to school this term, they believe the reopening of classes will save their children from the drug use endemic in the poverty-stricken township.

Apart from poverty, substance abuse of drugs such as crystal meth has been a danger to families, pushing up the incidence of mental illness in the country.

Due to the prolonged closure of schools, thousands more teenage girls have become pregnant, and more have married early, the government says.

Chitakunya’s nine-year-old son, Kelvin, says he is looking forward to the start of school on 6 September. Although he loves football, like the children playing in the street, Kelvin has stuck to his books.

“My mother could not afford private lessons, so I was reading my books at home. I want to be a lawyer so I will have to work very hard to attain this,” he says with a smile. While parents are struggling to afford a decent education for their children, teachers are also demanding a pay rise before returning to work.

“Learners are on the verge of losing out on their right to education because the government is not prepared to pay teachers a living wage. These learners cannot afford to pay fees or even for the government to chip in and waive school fees since parents’ incomes have been eroded by inflation,” says Obert Masaraure, president of the Amalgamated Rural Teachers Union .

While those who could afford it turned to private lessons during lockdowns, remote learning was blighted by rising internet costs. Many children like those in Mbare will be far behind their peers when schools reopen.

To help children catch up, the government has extended the term by a month. But to get Tanaka and his friend off the football pitch and into class, their parents face a struggle to afford their school fees.
Nyasha Chingono

Pupils attend school during the pandemic in Burkina Faso.
Pupils attend school during the pandemic in Burkina Faso. Even before Covid, education suffered in some areas as armed groups mounted attack after attack on schools, pupils and teachers. Photograph: Kalidou Sy/UNICEF

Burkina Faso

Radio lessons keep learning on track

Mariam*, a 14-year-old girl living in the Centre Nord region of Burkina Faso, used to enjoy going to school before Covid-19 hit the west African country last spring. Her school shut, and she was left wondering what would become of her education. One of Burkina Faso’s growing number of internally displaced children, she was living among some of the most vulnerable and poorest people in the semi-arid Sahel.

Eventually, however, she was able to get back to learning via the radio and a programme of distance education that the government in Ouagadougou is now planning to roll out to more children across the country. “They were very good because they allowed us to maintain our level of study,” says Mariam. Her favourite subject is mathematics.

Now, as the country prepares to reopen as many schools as possible from 1 October, she hopes the radio classes will have provided enough of the basics to make her return to the classroom easier. “Thanks to this programme, we think we will be able to return to school in October,” she says.

Her teacher, Armand*, says the radio classes helped prevent children like her – many of whom have fled jihadist violence – from dropping out of education entirely. “It was a good opportunity,” he says. “Thanks to this programme, displaced children have been able to learn something [during the closures].”

Lessons broadcast by radio had been around in Burkina Faso before last year: the country has a rich history of audio learning that goes back to “rural radio” in the 1970s, when farmers learned about the latest agricultural methods over the airwaves.

But this programme has been scaled up considerably since the pandemic and is now part of the education ministry’s £11m plan to ensure greater “educational continuity”. The move has been widely welcomed, not only because of continuing anxiety over Covid but because the country is still dealing with violent attacks that have closed schools for the past six years.

Dabla Touré, an education specialist for Unicef, which is supporting the ministry with the rollout of lessons, said it was vital they continue. “It’s clear that for some [the new school year] will mean an opportunity to return to the classroom. On the other hand there is a large number of pupils who are … for the moment out of school and who will probably stay there. And when I see the way the security situation is going in those regions [of the country], this number could rise in those parts, as in others.”

Even before the pandemic, parts of Burkina Faso were struggling to keep children in the classroom as armed groups mounted attack after attack on schools, pupils and teachers. In January and February 2020, more than 330,000 pupils were out of school, according to the education ministry. The situation has barely improved since then. As of the end of May, 2,244 schools remained closed, affecting more than 300,000 pupils and almost 12,500 teachers.

Against this backdrop of turmoil, the radio classes are “a must”, says Issoufou Ouedraogo. An education specialist working for Save the Children , he has been seconded to Burkina Faso’s education ministry, advising it on how to keep children in learning.

Distance education cannot replace face-to-face teaching, he says. “Rather, we can use it as an alternative in places where [in-person] education is not possible, as we did during Covid,” he says. “For instance, we have some areas which are under the control of armed groups. In these areas, schools were closed, teachers were redeployed. A lot of students are there without any kind of education.”

Ouedraogo acknowledges the programme’s faults: many of the poorest families, chiefly among Burkina Faso’s 1.3 million displaced people, do not own a radio. In the turbulent Sahel region, which has the greatest number of closed schools in the country, community teams supported by Save the Children have distributed radios and advised families on how to get the best out of the classes.

Nevertheless, both Ouedraogo and Touré agree that, while not ideal, the classes are better than nothing: a way of keeping up the “habit of learning” until a school can, perhaps, reopen its doors. That has certainly has been Mariam and Armand’s experience. But now their eyes are firmly on the future. “My hope for the new school year is that the children will be able to go back to school like before,” says Armand.
Lizzy Davies

* Names have been changed to protect identities

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Brexit: British Embassy launches survey on key issues affecting UK nationals in Spain | Brexit | International

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The British Embassy in Madrid has launched a survey aimed at finding out how UK nationals in Spain have been affected by key issues, in particular, the United Kingdom’s exit from the European Union, a process commonly known as Brexit.

The poll is for Britons who are full-time residents in Spain (not those with second homes) and are covered by the Brexit Withdrawal Agreement, i.e. they were officially registered in the country before December 31, 2020, when the so-called Transition Period came to an end.

Questions in the survey address issues such as access to healthcare and the uptake of the TIE residency cards, which were introduced as a replacement for green residency cards (either the credit-card size or the A4 sheet version, officially known as the Certificado de Registro de Ciudadano de la Unión).

As we approach a year since the end of the Transition Period, we really want to hear from you about the key issues…

Posted by Brits in Spain on Friday, September 17, 2021

The aim of the poll is to gather vital information on the experience of UK nationals living in Spain that will help the British Embassy provide feedback to Spanish authorities. The survey takes around 10 minutes to complete, and all answers are confidential.

Have you heard our Spanish news podcast ¿Qué? Each week we try to explain the curious, the under-reported and sometimes simply bizarre news stories that are often in the headlines in Spain.



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‘The challenge for us now is drought, not war’: livelihoods of millions of Afghans at risk | Global development

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The war in Afghanistan might be over but farmers in Kandahar’s Arghandab valley face a new enemy: drought.

It has hardly rained for two years, a drought so severe that some farmers are questioning how much longer they can live off the land.

Mohammed Rahim, 30, grew up working on a farm along with his father and grandfather in the Arghandab district of Afghanistan’s southern province. Famous for its fruit and vegetables, the area is known as the bread basket of Kandahar.

Like most in the valley, Rahim’s family relies solely on farming. “The fighting has just stopped. Peace has returned,” Rahim says. “But now we face another war: drought.

“Now we have to dig deep to pump water out of the land. It has been two years, there has been little rain and we have a drought here. I don’t know if our coming generations can rely on farming the way our ancestors used to do.”

Pir Mohammed, 60, has been a farmer for more than four decades. “Not long ago, there were water channels flowing into the farm and we were providing the remaining water to other farmers,” says Mohammed. “Before, the water was running after us, flowing everywhere – but now we are running after water.”

The water used to come free from the river but now the daily diesel cost for the water pump is at least 2,500 Afghani (£21).

“We don’t make any profit. We are in loss, rather. Instead, we are using our savings. But we don’t have any other option as we do it for survival,” says Mohammed. “However, the scarcity of water has affected the quality of crops as well.”

About 70% of Afghans live in rural areas and are particularly vulnerable to the impacts of drought.

Last week, Rein Paulsen, director of the Food and Agriculture Organization’s Office of Emergencies and Resilience, said severe drought was affecting 7.3 million people in 25 of the country’s 34 provinces.

He warned: “If agriculture collapses further, it will drive up malnutrition, increase displacement and worsen the humanitarian situation.”

Arghandab has been a favourite destination for farming because of the abundance of water and fertile lands. Neikh Mohammed, 40, left the Dand district of Kandahar to work in Arghandab in 2005. When he arrived he was amazed to see the greenery and pomegranate farms.

A dam affected by drought in Kandahar.
A dried up dam in Kandahar. A majority of Afghans are particularly vulnerable to the impacts of drought, as they live in rural areas. Photograph: Xinhua/Rex/Shutterstock

“It used to rain a lot here and we could not cross the river and come into our farms. We had a life with abundant water. But the past is another country now,” he says.

According to a report by the UN mission in Afghanistan, many local farmers were caught in the crossfire between the Taliban and the Afghan security forces. The Taliban carried out attacks from thick foliage on the farms, which provided a hiding place, ideal for an ambush.

“For the past 20 years, we did not have peace and could not work after dark in our farms. But now we can stay as long as we want without any fear,” says Neikh Mohammed. “Now the challenge is not just restoring peace but the drought and escalating cost of essential commodities.”

Farmers say they want support from international aid agencies and assistance from the new government headed by the Taliban to help them survive.

Pir Mohammed says: “The real challenge for us now is drought, not war. We need food, water, dams and infrastructure in our country. The world should invest in us and save us.”

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[Ticker] US to lift Covid travel-ban on EU tourists

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Fully vaccinated travellers from the EU and the UK will be let back into the US from “early November” onward, the White House said on Monday, ending an 18-month ban and prompting airline firms’ shares to climb. “This new international travel system follows the science to keep Americans … safe,” a US spokesman said. The EU recently recommended increased restrictions on US visitors, amid anger at lack of US reciprocity.

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