In a small classroom tucked inside the narrow lanes of inner-city Lahore, 17-year-old Hafiz Ehtesham wipes sweat from his brow with the edge of his uniform shirt. “It feels like we’re sitting inside a brick kiln,” he says quietly, stepping out into the scorching midday sun. “Sometimes, I don’t even want to come to school anymore.”
He’s not alone.
Across Pakistan, a growing number of students are missing out on weeks of education — not because of strikes, syllabus changes, or exams — but due to climate change.
Heatwaves, smog, and sudden cold spells have become the new normal, forcing schools to shut down for weeks at a time. And for millions of Pakistani children already navigating poverty, outdated classrooms, and poor infrastructure, these closures are not just disruptions — they’re roadblocks to their futures.
In May 2025, temperatures soared to 45°C in Punjab — up to seven degrees higher than usual. Several provinces were forced to cut school hours or announce early summer holidays. Lahore-based student Jannat, 15, recalls one particular day when there was no power. “I was sweating so much it dripped on my desk,” she says. “A girl in my class had a nosebleed from the heat.”
The problem runs deeper than discomfort. Many schools in Pakistan — especially in rural and lower-income urban areas — lack basic cooling, heating, or even proper ventilation. Packed classrooms turn into pressure cookers in the summer and iceboxes in the winter.
“Climate change is now hitting our schools harder than ever,” says Baela Raza Jamil, a leading education rights activist in Lahore. “Students are trying to learn in extreme heat, extreme smog, and bitter cold — often with no electricity, no fans, no heaters.”
She adds: “Yes, the poorest suffer the most. But even middle-class families in urban areas are struggling now. This crisis cuts across class.”
In the last academic year alone, schools in Punjab were shut for two weeks due to smog, another week in May due to heat, and three weeks in January due to a cold snap. Add to that closures caused by political rallies, cricket matches, and road blockages — and it’s clear why Pakistan’s education system is buckling.
In Balochistan, May heatwaves have triggered early summer breaks for three consecutive years. In Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, school hours are routinely slashed. In Sindh, where many parents have called for closures, authorities have refused — but attendance still drops by up to 25% in some schools.
“Children’s mental and physical health is at stake,” warns Dost Mohammad Danish, general secretary of the All Sindh Private Schools and Colleges Association. “And let’s be honest — how can we expect innovation or science from students who can’t even sit through a class?”
The numbers are sobering. Over 26 million Pakistani children are out of school — one of the highest rates globally. And among those who do attend, 65% can’t read basic text by age 10.
For education experts, the way forward involves more than just calendar changes.
“There needs to be flexibility,” says Izza Farrakh, a senior education specialist at the World Bank. “Schools should be allowed to adjust their schedules based on local weather. Exams don’t have to be in May. We can assess students regularly instead.”
Infrastructure is another key piece of the puzzle. While thousands of schools have been fitted with solar panels through international aid programs, the vast majority of Pakistan’s 250,000 schools remain unprepared for the challenges ahead.
There is hope, however.
In Sindh, climate-resilient schools funded by World Bank loans are now under construction. These buildings are elevated to survive floods, use solar power, and include rooftop insulation to keep classrooms cool in summer and warm in winter.
But activists say much more is needed — and quickly.
“We’re not just losing teaching days,” Baela Raza Jamil says. “We’re losing generations of learners.”
Because in today’s Pakistan, it’s no longer enough to just build schools. We have to climate-proof them too.
