Miss Laila’s World

By Robert Neufeld, World Vision, Syrian Crisis Response

The first thing you notice about Laila Sakaji is her smile.

As the coordinator of a community centre for women in the northern Jordanian town of Irbid, about 15 kilometres from the Syrian border, Laila beams as she ushers her visitors into a crowded classroom on the centre’s first floor. Inside, a group of sixth grade children are involved in a lively round of give and take with their teacher as they participate in a math lesson. These lessons, and others taking place at the centre, are part of a remedial learning programme, sponsored by World Vision.

The class is made up of Syrian refugee children from nearby neighbourhoods, as well as Jordanian children from lower-income families who need extra tutoring.  Each day, dozens of children crowd into makeshift classrooms at the centre to receive instruction in a variety of subjects, including math, science and English. For the Jordanian children, the classes represent an opportunity to get much-needed assistance in important school subjects. But, as Laila explains, the stakes are much higher for the Syrian children, some of whom have not been in school for many months.

“We’ve seen Syrian children come here with a lot of problems... My teachers have talked about 13-year-old students who are barely able to read," says Laila. 

“We’ve seen Syrian children come here with a lot of problems,” she says. “My teachers have talked about 13-year-old students who are barely able to read. They’d have little to no chance to succeed if they tried to go directly into the Jordanian school system, where the curriculum is much different than what they learned in Syria.”

The children, who know her as “Miss Laila”, smile and exchange greetings as Laila takes her visitors to on a tour of the classrooms. The children are like kids in any classroom anywhere in the world. Some have little to say to the newcomers, while others speak up boisterously. They talk of how grateful they are to World Vision for the chance to continue their schooling, and speak eagerly about their future plans.

“I want to be a doctor,” says fourth grade student Dasmeen. “Doctors help people and I want to help people just like other people have helped me.”

"[Syrian refugee children] would have little to no chance to succeed if they tried to go directly into the Jordanian school system, where the curriculum is much different than what they learned in Syria,” adds Laila. 

Later, in her small, cluttered office, Laila tells some of the stories she’s heard from teachers and the children in their care. Some Syrian refugee children have seen their parents or relatives killed in front of them. Other children have screamed when the power has occasionally failed at the centre, fearing another bomb attack has occurred. The Jordanian children in the program also have their share of troubles, as some have been the victims of physical abuse by their parents or relatives.  But Laila also smiles as she recounts the small pleasures she’s able to provide the children, such as visits to local shopping malls and playgrounds.

The visit is interrupted by a phone call. It’s one of many she receives each week from anxious parents, who want to know what will happen when the remedial classes end in the coming weeks when the Jordanian school year comes to a close. There’s not much good news she can give them, since the learning programmes are tied to the school calendar. But, she brightens again when she talks about other opportunities currently in the works.

“There’s interest among the refugee parents to start adult literacy programs for women,” she says. “Others want to learn beauty tips and better hygiene for their families. These are small things, but when you are living with your entire family in one or two rooms in a strange country, they become very important.”

Later, Laila sees her visitors off to return to Amman by providing them with an enormous lunch and bowls of "booza”, the traditional Syrian ice cream that is becoming a staple of refugee communities in Jordan and Lebanon. Then, as the vans pulled away, she turns and heads back into the centre, to begin the preparations for another school day and another set of challenges.