Raven
04-03-06, 04:00 PM
Special needs school welcomes war-scarred Iraqi children Fri Mar 31, 12:08 PM ET
BAGHDAD (AFP) - For 12-year-old Iraqi Sarah al-Jamal, the world as she knew it ended the day her father was shot dead in front of her eyes.
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Once bright, talkative and a top student, Sarah is now one of the growing number of Iraq children traumatized by the conflict and who can no longer deal with the daily reality of life in Iraq's battered capital.
"She suffers from constant nervous breakdowns and starts screaming hysterically when she sees a policeman or a soldier," said Hussein Ali Mohsen, the director Al-Rajaa Institute for Special Needs. "Her mental status is no longer stable and she cannot concentrate on her studies.
"The death of her father in front of her eyes has changed the girl into another person."
Mohsen's school was founded back in 1968 and once just welcomed developmentally challenged children, mostly with Down's Syndrome, but since April 2003, the facility has opened its doors to children scarred by Baghdad's harsh post-war realities.
"We have been in a state of war for the past three years and the cases of children suffering from nervous breakdowns are increasing," Mohsen said.
So far, the school has five students like Sarah, while the rest of the 70 pupils have Down Syndrome.
"There are definitely many more cases out there, but because of tradition and society most of the families prefer to keep them indoors. We never know about them until they approach us," added Mohsen.
The war is hard on all of the institute's children. The simple passage of helicopters criss-crossing Baghdad's skies can spread panic and sow fear among the pupils.
"With every bomb that explodes and every helicopter flying over head, we have chaos in the school," Mohsen said.
When this happens, the school's dedicated corps of 10 teachers swing into action and try to distract the children from their fears with toys or leading them in a familiar song or dance.
Sometimes, it's just a matter of reading them a story.
"We do everything for these children," said teacher Hayat al-Khafaji. "We sacrifice our time and now we risk our lives to teach them."
For salaries ranging from 70 dollars to 330 dollars (60 to 275 euros) a month, the teachers navigate their way daily through the city's dangerous streets to teach the children.
The school looks to provide their students with the basic skills they need to survive in life, including reading and writing, as well as lessons on how to interact with others.
"The children at the institute learn how to use computers and we try to help them with what materials we have," said Khafaji.
Next to her a young girl with Down Syndrome sits in front of a computer screen featuring simple, colorful programs.
When the Down Syndrome students reach the age of 17, they are placed at "rehabilitation" schools established years ago by the labor ministry to teach them trades so that they can make a living.
"Girls continue learning how to use computers or sewing, while boys learn trades such as carpentry or mechanics. It's all so that they can earn money when they become adults," Khafafi added.
For Umm Abdallah, however, the institute's modest means are not enough for her child traumatized by the war and she laments their lack of resources and unimaginative teaching methods.
"The institute doesn't even have a swing in its garden for the children to play on," she said. "No one cares anymore and the way they teach the children is outdated!"
For her, the daily crises of life only seem to be getting worse.
"No one escapes from the agony of this war. Even these children who do not understand what is happening are suffering," she said.
BAGHDAD (AFP) - For 12-year-old Iraqi Sarah al-Jamal, the world as she knew it ended the day her father was shot dead in front of her eyes.
ADVERTISEMENT
Once bright, talkative and a top student, Sarah is now one of the growing number of Iraq children traumatized by the conflict and who can no longer deal with the daily reality of life in Iraq's battered capital.
"She suffers from constant nervous breakdowns and starts screaming hysterically when she sees a policeman or a soldier," said Hussein Ali Mohsen, the director Al-Rajaa Institute for Special Needs. "Her mental status is no longer stable and she cannot concentrate on her studies.
"The death of her father in front of her eyes has changed the girl into another person."
Mohsen's school was founded back in 1968 and once just welcomed developmentally challenged children, mostly with Down's Syndrome, but since April 2003, the facility has opened its doors to children scarred by Baghdad's harsh post-war realities.
"We have been in a state of war for the past three years and the cases of children suffering from nervous breakdowns are increasing," Mohsen said.
So far, the school has five students like Sarah, while the rest of the 70 pupils have Down Syndrome.
"There are definitely many more cases out there, but because of tradition and society most of the families prefer to keep them indoors. We never know about them until they approach us," added Mohsen.
The war is hard on all of the institute's children. The simple passage of helicopters criss-crossing Baghdad's skies can spread panic and sow fear among the pupils.
"With every bomb that explodes and every helicopter flying over head, we have chaos in the school," Mohsen said.
When this happens, the school's dedicated corps of 10 teachers swing into action and try to distract the children from their fears with toys or leading them in a familiar song or dance.
Sometimes, it's just a matter of reading them a story.
"We do everything for these children," said teacher Hayat al-Khafaji. "We sacrifice our time and now we risk our lives to teach them."
For salaries ranging from 70 dollars to 330 dollars (60 to 275 euros) a month, the teachers navigate their way daily through the city's dangerous streets to teach the children.
The school looks to provide their students with the basic skills they need to survive in life, including reading and writing, as well as lessons on how to interact with others.
"The children at the institute learn how to use computers and we try to help them with what materials we have," said Khafaji.
Next to her a young girl with Down Syndrome sits in front of a computer screen featuring simple, colorful programs.
When the Down Syndrome students reach the age of 17, they are placed at "rehabilitation" schools established years ago by the labor ministry to teach them trades so that they can make a living.
"Girls continue learning how to use computers or sewing, while boys learn trades such as carpentry or mechanics. It's all so that they can earn money when they become adults," Khafafi added.
For Umm Abdallah, however, the institute's modest means are not enough for her child traumatized by the war and she laments their lack of resources and unimaginative teaching methods.
"The institute doesn't even have a swing in its garden for the children to play on," she said. "No one cares anymore and the way they teach the children is outdated!"
For her, the daily crises of life only seem to be getting worse.
"No one escapes from the agony of this war. Even these children who do not understand what is happening are suffering," she said.