Schools across Iran have remained closed for seven weeks since the United States and Israel launched a war on Feb. 28, leaving families navigating childcare and educational challenges with no announced timeline for reopening. Working parents like Mahnaz Ataei, a finance manager in Tehran, have brought their children to the office to supervise online classes while trying to maintain productivity. The fragile ceasefire has shifted the crisis from immediate aerial threat to the grinding logistics of displacement and remote learning.
The school closures reflect the broader toll the war continues to take on civilian life in Iran, where at least 3,000 people have been killed, including more than 165 in a strike on an elementary school, and where an already struggling economy faces additional pressure from a potential U.S. naval blockade as key negotiations stall.
Working mothers at a breaking point
Mahnaz Ataei, a finance manager in Tehran, has taken an unusual arrangement to her office: her 7-year-old son. She sits him at a desk near hers where he logs into his online classes, while she tries to focus on her own work.
“My productivity drops when I have to pay attention to both my child and my work at the same time,” Ataei said. “The hardest part is trying to create balance between work and online classes, and always stressing over whether he is really learning his lessons properly.”
Schools shut down across Iran after the initial airstrikes, briefly resuming with online classes for a week in March before the Nowruz holiday. Online classes resumed again on April 4. But the return to physical classrooms has not been authorized, and no timeline has been announced.
A displaced population trying to find its footing
Hundreds of thousands of Iranians fled Tehran and other cities after the war began, seeking safety in rural areas or the relatively unscathed north. Now many are returning, trying to resume normal life with deep uncertainty about what comes next.
Roya Amiri, a housewife, left Tehran days after the war began, taking her two sons — ages 10 and 18 — to stay with relatives. They crowded into a single home with 15 family members. The living arrangement strained relationships, disrupted routines, and complicated basic care: her 10-year-old son, who has a respiratory illness, was difficult to treat in the crowded quarters.
“I feel like I’m suspended — neither in the air nor on the ground,” Amiri said after returning to Tehran.
She said the return to her own home was the right decision, despite the ongoing instability. If the war resumes, she plans to stay put rather than flee again.
“I was tired of living collectively. I wanted to return to my own home and routine,” she said. “I missed Tehran.”
Reza Jafari described a similar calculus. He took his family to stay with his wife’s relatives, where the same crowding and loss of privacy took a toll—not on the children, who seemed to adapt quickly to the constant activity and presence of grandparents and cousins, but on the adults.
“Because the sound of explosions was distressing and my children were terrified, I left Tehran for their peace of mind,” Jafari said. “I was happy to be with relatives. It felt like a forced but valuable opportunity to reconnect.”
It was the adults, he added, who grappled with interrupted sleep, a loss of privacy, financial pressure, and the exhaustion that comes from being a houseguest for weeks on end.
The workplace calculus
For some parents, the closure has forced a complete reorganization of work and family life. Padideh Teymourian, an architect, and her husband, Amir Ramezani, who owns a jewelry shop, have had to coordinate their schedules around their 6-year-old daughter’s online preschool.
Teymourian’s office reopened after the holidays and did not allow remote work. Employees who failed to show up were told to apply for unpaid leave. One of the parents has to sit beside their daughter throughout her classes, ensuring she has the right book open and is following along.
Ramezani shifted his work schedule to remain at home during the day. Teymourian takes over in the afternoon, using hourly leave to cover the gap.
“My husband’s work schedule has been completely disrupted, and I also take about an hour and a half of hourly leave every day,” Teymourian said.
Ramezani often returns late at night, after their daughter has gone to bed. Family dinners have become rare.
“It has put economic and emotional pressure on both of us,” Ramezani said. “Life is moving on fast forward. You don’t even notice how the day becomes night. We’re just getting through time until things go back to the way they were.”
An uncertain future
The ceasefire between the U.S. and Iran was set to expire early the following week, with the two countries still divided on key issues including Iran’s enriched uranium program. A potential U.S. naval blockade could further damage Iran’s already fragile economy.
For families like those of Ataei, Amiri, Jafari, and Ramezani, the end of the school closures remains uncertain. The disruption to children’s education and to family routines shows no sign of ending, even as the immediate threat of airstrikes has receded.