Pupils across Ukraine returned to school on Monday, embarking on a new academic year under the shadow of Russia’s ongoing invasion, with many lessons now taking place underground.
Since the war began in February 2022, schools have innovated to keep education alive.
In Bobryk, a village in the northern Sumy region, close to the front line, one school moved its classrooms into a basement two years ago.
This drastic step was taken as air raid alerts could stretch for up to 20 hours, paralysing surface-level classes.
Principal Oleksii Korenivskyi emphasised the critical importance of their work, stating: “We must do everything so this generation is not lost. Time is the only thing you cannot make up.
“This is our future, and we must give it everything we have.”
Students’ education had already been impacted by Covid lockdowns.
Housed in an administrative building never designed for teaching, the makeshift underground school features narrow classrooms, often separated only by sheets of heavy plastic.
With no windows or doors, children’s voices blend into a continuous chorus. On Monday, many arrived in traditional embroidered vyshyvanka shirts.
Teachers’ desks were adorned with fresh flowers, a customary gift from the children to mark the new academic year.
“Unfortunately, this ‘neighbour’ isn’t going anywhere,” said Oleksii, referring to Russia, when describing how much had to be done to make it happen and that it was worth it.
The once damp and dark basement was refurbished with ventilation, electricity and new flooring.
It is just one example of how Ukrainians are adapting to keep life moving with no end in sight to Russia’s grinding assault.
Bobryk, with a population of about 2,000, has a small school with classes of about 10 children each. This year, only seven sat in the first-grade room.
During the first lesson, the teacher opened a textbook to a map of Ukraine. It showed the country whole, without marks of occupied territories. She pointed north to the Sumy region, where Bobryk lies.
“Our region is next to Russia,” she said. “That’s why it’s so hard, why they bomb us so often — because we are close to this difficult neighbour.”
The school currently has just over 100 students, though about 10 per cent have left since Russia’s full-scale invasion, and more continue to depart. For a school this small, each loss is felt.
Among those preparing to leave is Vlada Mykhailyk, 15, who will soon move to Austria with her 11-year-old brother. Their mother decided conditions have become too dangerous.
“We live well, but sometimes it’s sad. We often hear Shaheds (drones) and explosions,” Vlada said. Learning underground has become routine, she added.
“If you have to choose between online or in the basement, the basement is better.”
She admits she is reluctant to leave the city and would rather finish school with her friends.
In one of the junior classrooms, war was not the first topic on the first day. When the teacher asked the students what they had done over the summer, the replies were refreshingly normal — bike rides, helping parents, time with new friends.
Then, a small voice from the third grade, added: “A Shahed drone was intercepted above us and there were fragments.”
“All this is because of the war,” the teacher answered gently.
Because the basement is small, the school runs in two shifts, with shortened breaks. The original schoolhouse — a beautiful early 20th-century building — now sits empty, its spacious classrooms waiting for students to return when security situation improves.
Eva Tui, aged 7, was starting her third year in a classroom underground. She remembers her former classroom just 400 meters away, which was warmer in winter and cosier.
“We’re here because it’s wartime and there are a lot of sirens,” Eva said, adding that she had been awake the night before with excitement at the start of the new school year.
Eva said her wish for the year is simple: “To go back to the classroom. It feels more like home.”
Her bigger dream: “For the war to end.”
