When Tabassum talks about the day of her Pashto exam, she pauses for a moment. Her gaze settles on a distant point, as if she were still sitting in that classroom, looking down at her exam paper. It was the paper on which she was supposed to write her answers, but she never got the chance to complete it.
That day, Tabassum was a tenth-grade student in Afghanistan. Her classmates had prepared for their Pashto exam. The papers lay on their desks, and everyone was busy writing their answers. It seemed like an ordinary exam day, when students would put on paper what they had learned after months of study.
But midway through the exam, news reached the school that the Taliban had taken power. The news spread from one classroom to another like a wave. Calm gave way to fear, voices rose, and the school’s order collapsed within moments. The students did not know what had happened or what would come next. Some hurried out of their classrooms, while others left the school amid confusion and anxiety. The unfinished exam papers remained on the desks, with answers left incomplete and questions no one had the chance to answer.
Tabassum recalls that day:
“The day we had our Pashto exam, the government changed and the Taliban came to power. Everyone was afraid. There was an uproar at school, and no one understood what was happening.”
After the news arrived, the exam no longer mattered to Tabassum as it had before. Fear over what was unfolding had replaced any thought of answering the questions. The students left the school, but for Tabassum, that day did not end at the school gate. The change of government also changed the course of her life.
Sometime later, Tabassum’s family left Afghanistan and moved to Iran. Migration separated her from her school, classmates and the environment in which she had been studying. Still, she did not want her education to stop. After arriving in Iran, she spent about a year trying to find a way to enroll in school. She remained out of education for a year before finally managing to return to the classroom.
In Iran, Tabassum resumed her studies in tenth grade, the same grade she had been attending in Afghanistan. After a year of waiting, she opened her books again, returned to school and completed tenth and eleventh grades. She was interested in science subjects and worked hard in her studies. Her efforts paid off: she achieved the highest marks and entered the science track.
For Tabassum, returning to school was an opportunity to think about her future again after the interruption in Afghanistan. She was once more a student, with lessons, exams and goals she wanted to achieve. But this time, another obstacle stood in her way.
Residency problems and restrictions faced by Afghan migrants in Iran made it difficult for Tabassum to continue her education. Although she had studied for two years and wanted to keep learning, she was unable to return to school. Once again, her education was interrupted, this time not because of a change of government in Afghanistan, but because of the difficulties caused by her residency status in Iran.
As Tabassum talks about those years, she shows me photographs of herself with her Iranian classmates. In the pictures, she stands alongside girls with whom she once shared a classroom. She also shows me messages from her friends, who have asked how she is doing and what life has been like for her since returning to Afghanistan.
Looking at the photographs and messages, Tabassum remembers her friends. The distance between her and her classmates is now greater than the distance between two classrooms or two schools. They have remained in Iran, while she has returned to Afghanistan. Yet they still keep in touch and ask about one another.
Speaking about her experience in Iran, she says the people there are kind, but government restrictions and the difficulties imposed on Afghan migrants have made their lives harder. For Tabassum, one of the most painful consequences was being unable to continue her education, despite her love of school, her hard work and her academic success.
Tabassum is now back in Afghanistan, waiting for schools to reopen. She still cannot say with certainty when she will have the opportunity to continue her education. What she knows is that she does not want to give up studying. After having her education interrupted twice, she still wants to return to school.
As she talks about her future and continuing her education, her books lie beside her. They hold part of the story of her unfinished education. Photographs of her classmates remind her of the days when she managed to return to school and study alongside her friends. Those days have now become memories, but her desire to continue learning remains.
Tabassum’s story has seen her education interrupted twice. The first time was when news of the Taliban’s return to power cut short her Pashto exam and her family was forced to leave Afghanistan. The second came after she had studied for two years in Iran, when residency problems prevented her from continuing. Each time, she tried to return to school: first after migration and a year of waiting, and now in Afghanistan, where she is waiting for school doors to reopen.
Perhaps that is why the unfinished Pashto exam papers at the beginning of Tabassum’s story evoke more than an incomplete exam. That day, students left their answers on their desks and walked out of the classroom without knowing when they would be able to return to their normal school lives. The years that followed brought Tabassum further interruptions, none of which she had chosen.
Today, she is waiting for another opportunity to return to school, to continue the lessons left unfinished and pursue a future she still hopes for. The exam paper remained on the desk that day, but Tabassum’s dream did not remain unfinished with it.
