You do not currently have permission to view the full text for this document. Please sign in to an account with an active subscription or contact support.
It was January 2023. Life in Afghanistan had become unbearably difficult for girls. For us, education was not just about books or classrooms. It was our only path to freedom, to dreams, to proving to our community that we too could build our country alongside our brothers. For me, school was more than a building; it was a sanctuary of hope. I dreamed of becoming a doctor, of healing the sick and giving families a reason to believe in tomorrow.
But that dream was cut down before it could bear fruit. The day they shut the doors of our school, I stood frozen, staring at the building one last time. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I realized that the magical place I had cherished since childhood, the place where my wishes could turn into reality, was now forbidden to me. For days, I cried. To my family, school had been my only excuse to step outside of time, to live beyond the walls of our home. To everyone who knew me, it looked like I had given up. But deep inside, a small ember of hope still burned.
One day, my mother said gently, “My daughter, why don't you take my phone and look for online classes?” Her words lit up my eyes. I began searching, and soon I found a free English course taught by American teachers.
To read more about Samreen's journey, visit .