
Parents and students gather in front of the Bazouriyeh public secondary school, south Lebanon, on July 2, 2024. (Credit: Matthieu Karam)
“They should have canceled the exams. We’re in wartime!” said Rana in an interview with L’Orient-Le Jour. Dropping her son off at 7:30 a.m. at Bazouriyeh Secondary School, she insisted that students in south Lebanon have not had the same opportunities as others.
A total of 292 students have been called to sit their Lebanese baccalaureate exams at the modest state school in this small village east of Sour. The town has been hit several times by Israel since the start of hostilities with Hezbollah on Oct. 8, one day after the start of the Gaza war, and is known for being the hometown of Hassan Nasrallah, the leader of the party.
“Our children lost all their energy, and so have we. The sonic booms and strikes make you jump,” Rana said.
Next to her, amid the early-morning crowd swarming outside the school, another woman spoke to L’Orient-Le Jour.
“Those who left their bombed-out village did not have a proper school year,” she said.
The new school year started on Oct. 9, and hostilities in the area have displaced more than 90,000 people, according to the latest figures from the International Organization for Migration published at the end of February.
High school seniors in the courtyard of the Bazouriyeh public high school, near Sour in southern Lebanon, on July 2, 2024. (Credit: Matthieu Karam)
But not all parents seemed to be on the same page.
“Stop it, you’re using weak language,” interrupted another mother. Switching from Arabic to French, she said, “Everything is difficult here, but we southerners are used to it.”
There was no time for debate as a security guard ordered the parents to leave the entrance gate. Two ambulances from the al-Shifaa Association were stationed on either side. The third day of Lebanese Baccalaureate examinations then began in this school turned examination center.
Israel’s displacement of southern Lebanese youth to Bazouriyeh
Five students at this state school are displaced persons who fled their homes due to Israeli bombardments, including Mustafa Sufan.
As soon as the hostilities began, the 18-year-old baccalaureate student left Hanin, his native town on the border with Israel in the frequently bombarded Aita al-Shaab area, to join his mother’s family in Deir Aames, near Qana. After the philosophy test, he was all smiles: “It was a normal level. It wasn’t hard or easy,” he said.
“I was able to study this year and did well. But I know friends who couldn’t change schools or catch up with the syllabus,” he said. “As a result, their level of knowledge wasn’t good enough. You could say that some students were treated unfairly compared to others,” he added.
In Bazouriyeh, the same debate continues: Should the Lebanese Baccalaureate exams for students in south Lebanon be canceled, as was done for the brevet students, who take state exams to receive diplomas certifying their completion of middle school?
“We couldn’t concentrate because we never knew what might happen [throughout the school year],” said a 17-year-old high school student. “Even during exams, they can strike,” she said, referring to the Israeli bombings. Other students believe the government should have made the exams easier and reduced the number of optional subjects.
Badreddine Falha, a student from Mais al-Jabal displaced by the fighting in southern Lebanon, takes his Baccalaureate in Bazouriyeh on July 2, 2024. (Credit: Matthieu Karam)
Some tried a radical method to get the exams canceled when, a few weeks ago, residents of Bazouriyeh received warning messages on their phones indicating that a building in the village was about to be targeted.
“They were students trying to get the tests canceled,” said Rana. “They tried to use a foreign number, I think from Africa.”
This was confirmed by the head of the school’s examination center, Yassine Ghazal.
“At the end of the day, it was essential that we hold the exams. People want their diploma, not an attestation or a waiver,” Ghazal said. He, however, admitted that he was “surprised” by the decision to keep the center at Bazouriyeh.
“Thank God, everything went smoothly,” he said. Ghazal and a dozen or so colleagues ensured that the tests ran smoothly from a classroom converted into an examination center, where they monitored a surveillance screen showing images from cameras installed in the 12 examination rooms.
All those in charge assured us that the tests went off without a hitch. The final day of exams, this Thursday, July 4, was no exception.
‘Victory to Palestine’
Ahmad Saleh, who is responsible for the south Lebanon area within the Ministry of Education, believes the decision to keep the exams in south Lebanon was a success.
“Four emergency rooms have been set up in case of a strike or security incident,” he explained.
Wearing a gray suit and red tie, Saleh welcomed Amal member of parliament Ashraf Baydoun on Wednesday, who briefly visited the town, a stronghold of the party.
High school students wearing kuffiyehs as they arrive at Bazouriyeh public high school for the Bac exams, July 2, 2024. (Credit: Matthieu Karam)
“Wanting to abolish exams is an attack on Lebanon’s future and its reputation. Education is part of the struggle of the people of the south,” Baydoun asserted during his short visit (less than ten minutes) adding that the students “have victory in their eyes” by attending the Lebanese Baccalaureate exams under these circumstances.
“What’s he doing here? Let him go to the border,” whispered a young woman to her friend once the MP had left.
At the end of the exam, a crowd gathered around teenager Sarah al-Durr in the school playground.
“We came to take the exams to show the world that we love life. That we like to be educated, that we want to carry on,” she shouted.
Beneath her black veil, the young girl wore a locket with a photo of herself with her niece, Amal al-Durr, who was killed by an Israeli strike on Feb. 21 in Majdal Zoun and who was not yet five years old.
“We endured our pain as families of martyrs, and we fight here as fighters carry their weapons to the front,” she said. “Whether or not we pass our exams, we resist.”
Another student placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as if to stop the tears that were welling up in her eyes. Young men gathered around her, some brandishing kuffiyehs. “Victory for Palestine,” they chanted.
Pupils' drawings displayed in a corridor of the public secondary school in Bazouriyeh, south Lebanon, on July 2, 2024. (Credit: Matthieu Karam)
*Some first and surnames have been preserved at the request of the interviewees.
This article was originally published in L'Orient-Le Jour and translated by Sahar Ghoussoub.