Northeast Thailand Schools Reopen with High Turnout, Drills and Counseling

Classes are back in session along the Thai–Cambodian border, and with them comes a fragile sense of normality that parents, teachers and shop-owners have missed for nearly a month. The guns have fallen silent—for now—and schoolyards from Surin to Si Sa Ket are once again filled with the unmistakable roar of morning assemblies.

What’s different this term?

• Nearly 1,200 schools across 7 northeastern provinces were shuttered after December’s artillery exchanges.

• A 27 Dec truce allowed most campuses to reopen on 4 Jan, with student attendance ranging between 80-95 % on the first day.

• Education officials have rolled out emergency drills, flexible timetables and trauma counselling to keep learning on track should fighting flare again.

Reopening day: mixed relief and vigilance

In Buri Ram’s Ban Kruat District, eight-year-olds marched back to class clutching new notebooks while teachers scanned the horizon for any sign of renewed shelling. “The children’s smiles were contagious, but you could still feel the tension,” said Prapassorn Sangkomol, who teaches Grade 1 at Anuban Ban Kruat School. About 80 % of her pupils showed up—higher than expected given that many families had only just returned from government shelters.

Over in Lahan Sai, director Pusita Naradee reported a 95 % turnout yet admitted some parents are waiting “one more week of calm” before sending younger siblings. The school spent its first morning rehearsing where to duck if sirens wail. Concrete bunkers are freshly painted but still too few for the 300-strong student body.

The economics of a school bell

Border town livelihoods rise and fall with the school bell. When classrooms closed on 7 Dec, Kantharalak’s street food stalls lost their breakfast rush overnight. Dough-stick vendor Kachornsak Leeratanacharoen says daily sales plunged from 600 baht to almost nothing. Monday’s reopening tripled his takings, though he still checks news apps between frying batches. “One stray shell and we’re back to zero,” he said.

School-run services feel the same anxiety. Supansa Promlok, who drives a 12-seat van between villages, restarted her route but keeps the petrol tank half-full—“easier to abandon the vehicle if we hear explosions,” she joked, half serious.

Beyond books: mending young minds

Educational psychologists warn that the academic calendar is only part of the recovery. Repeated evacuations risk PTSD and learning loss among children who have never known a stable school year. The Ministry of Education has deployed mobile counselling units, while NGOs such as Kalyanamitr Foundation for Child Development organise art therapy corners where pupils draw their “safe place”.

Teachers, too, need support. Many slept in makeshift shelters with students last month, and a faculty workshop on 8 Jan will coach staff on recognising trauma in themselves. “We can’t teach fractions if nightmares keep us awake,” said Tosaporn Khamplew of Phum Saron School, which has been hit by shellfire three times since 2011.

New playbook for an old frontline

Policy-makers hope December’s chaos becomes a blueprint rather than a footnote. The Office of the Education Council is drafting an Education-in-Emergency protocol that lets principals shut schools instantly, shifts lessons online within 24 hours, and counts volunteer work at evacuation centres toward university portfolios.

Local administrations are lobbying Bangkok for funds to expand underground shelters. In Surin’s Kap Choeng district, students at Ban Dan School held a minute’s silence for soldiers killed defending the border, then got to work sweeping debris into neat piles. Director Dechopol Chonlathee estimates he needs ฿3 M to reinforce aging bunkers—“cheaper than rebuilding classrooms,” he noted.

What parents in Bangkok should know

Thailand’s interior ministry insists the cease-fire is holding, but travellers heading to Route 24 or smaller crossings like Chong Sa-Ngam should monitor advisories. Crucially, officials stress that no child has been hurt since hostilities spiked in early December—a statistic they intend to keep.

For now, algebra beats artillery in the soundscape of Thailand’s northeast. Yet every recess whistle doubles as a reminder: peace here is measured in school days, one attendance sheet at a time.