The occupation of education: the story of one Ukrainian school captive to the Russian world
When Russian troops seized both banks of the Kherson region in southern Ukraine, their tanks rolled not only into towns and villages but also into schools. Along with the armoured vehicles came new “educational standards”, Russian flags in classrooms, textbooks filled with distorted history, and propaganda intended to turn Ukrainian children into “little Russians”. Teachers were forced to choose between compliance and refusal, while parents had to decide whether to send their children to occupied schools or keep them hidden at home.
Before the full-scale Russian invasion, the village of Mykilske on the right bank of the Dnipro River in the Kherson region was known for its well-equipped school and a close-knit teaching staff. Like other villages in the Darivka community, Mykilske sat at a strategic crossroads and was occupied by Russian forces in late February 2022. Locals tell similar stories about the early months of occupation: soldiers everywhere, many of them not ethnic Russians but conscripts from the Russian-occupied Donetsk and Luhansk regions. The occupiers looted local shops and searched for Ukrainian soldiers and activists, who were then executed. This, residents of Mykilske say, was how the Russians made their presence known.
Pressure on teachers and parents
Although the military occupation happened quickly, the replacement of Ukrainian administrative and management structures began only in May. The education system was among the first targets. Schools were struggling to finish the academic year remotely under the Ukrainian curriculum, and the Mykilske school was preparing to send about 300 students on summer break. More than 20 teachers, however, were left in uncertainty, not knowing how the school would function under the occupation.
“In the spring, we began receiving persistent messages about the need to fill out registers and complete the school year as soon as possible. Everyone sensed that something was wrong. In July, the principal, Oksana Kryvenkova, openly announced that the school would now operate under the Russian curriculum and that she would remain in her position,” recalls teacher Natalia Vaskovska from the Mykilske Lyceum.
Her colleague, teacher Victoria Kovaleva, remembers that many staff members were strongly opposed to working under Russian standards. “After aligning herself with the Russians, Principal Kryvenkova gave us two choices: apply for a job at a Russian school or resign. Several colleagues and I stood up and left. After that, some teachers had their homes searched, were threatened, and even detained,” she says.
At the same time, many parents decided to withdraw their children’s records from the school in order to flee the occupied area. According to the teachers, they faced obstruction from the pro-Russian school administration and often had to literally fight to retrieve the documents.
Across the region, teachers were lured by promises of a “bright future” supposedly guaranteed by Russia. They were offered retraining in Crimea and employment in newly registered “Russian institutions” that were set up inside Ukrainian school buildings. Dozens of such “state schools” were established.
Like many of their fellow villagers, teachers Natalia Vaskovska and Victoria Kovaleva eventually left the occupied village. The Mykilske Lyceum officially began operating as a “Russian school”.
New Russian academic year
The school was registered as a new legal entity under the Russian Federation and became the central school in the community, while the remaining secondary schools in the district were closed. Students were provided with textbooks brought from Moscow, including a course on the history of Russia, and all lessons were conducted in Russian.
Olha Shara, a former eighth-grade student, recalls: “They gave us Russian textbooks. I didn’t even open them. They introduced us to ‘Russian History’, but I refused to study it on principle. Many children didn’t want to study it either, though some accepted the new system because their parents supported Russia or were afraid of the consequences.”
It is important to note that the Russians printed and delivered 257 different textbooks to the Kherson region, totalling more than 600,000 copies.
Olha’s homeroom teacher hung a Russian tricolour and a portrait of Putin in the classroom, and Russian flags were distributed at the 1 September assembly. According to Olga, many students accepted the flags simply “to avoid problems”, while some genuinely supported the occupation.
Vacation in Crimea
One strategy employed by the occupiers was to send children to Crimea under the pretext of “health improvement”. Parents were invited to send their children to seaside camps with promises of good food and comfortable conditions. Local residents report that in the Darivka community, a local official who had defected to the Russian administration organised this process, while school teachers were tasked with mobilising parents and children. However, not all parents agreed to send their children.
“My mother immediately said, ‘We’re not going anywhere.’ We knew it was a trap. The children weren’t brought back – they were sent deep into Russia. Then the parents went to Russia looking for them, and many never returned,” recalls Olha Shara.
It is known that in the autumn of 2022, Russian authorities managed to evacuate several thousand children from the region under the guise of a seaside trip.
Deoccupation and consequences
On 11 November 2022, the Ukrainian armed forces liberated the right bank of the region. However, the effects of occupation remain. More than half of the students at Mykilsky Lyceum did not return to the Ukrainian education system; some went to Russia, while others relocated to different regions of Ukraine. Many students lost an entire year of education, and teachers and the principal who collaborated with the occupiers either fled or remain under investigation.
“We’ve reopened the school – we’re teaching online for now. But the children who lived through the occupation have changed. Some are struggling to adapt because they spent six months exposed to Russian propaganda. We have a lot of work ahead,” says teacher Victoria Kovaleva.
The village, located a few kilometres from the Dnipro River and the front line, is regularly shelled by the Russian army. The school building currently stands empty, with the wind whistling through its corridors. Russian textbooks lie scattered, covered in a thick layer of dust, which grows heavier with each artillery strike.
Karim Asfari, a legal analyst at The Reckoning Project, argues that Russia is obstructing children’s personal development:“International human rights treaties recognise the right to education. The former UN Special Rapporteur on the right to education, Katarina Tomaszewski, emphasises that curricula and teaching methods must meet students’ needs and respect their cultural context. Russia’s policy of teaching exclusively in Russian in occupied schools violates these principles. By forcing children to abandon their native language and identity, the Russian Federation impedes their cultural and personal development.”
Author: Viktoriia Novikova and Ivan Antypenko
This story was first published on Delfi.
This text was prepared in collaboration with The Reckoning Project, an international team of journalists and lawyers dedicated to documenting, reporting, and collecting evidence to investigate war crimes. The Reckoning Project receives support from the European Union.
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