More than 1.4 million children across Cuba just went back to class under conditions that would cause most nations to shut down entirely. Over 10,000 schools opened their doors this September, facing severe rolling blackouts lasting upwards of 20 hours a day, a crippling lack of fuel, and an acute teacher shortage.
Education officials are calling the reopening a heroic feat. Families on the ground call it an exercise in sheer survival.
If you are wondering how an entire national education system functions when the power grid fails, the transport network stalls, and basic classroom supplies disappear, the reality on the ground is stark. Cuba's chronic crises did not take a summer vacation. They worsened.
The Daily Struggle Just to Reach the Classroom
Think about your morning routine. Now strip away running water, reliable electricity, public buses, and affordable clothing.
Families like the Barrosos in Las Minas wake up well before dawn to hitch a cart to a borrowed horse just to get their daughters to school. Their own horse was recently stolen and killed for food as the island's food security crisis deepens. School buses aren't running because there simply is no fuel.
Urban families face a different flavor of the same crisis. Parents pack small, battery-operated, rechargeable fans labeled with their children's names, because classrooms in 90-degree heat lack air conditioning and ceiling fans sit dead during daily blackouts. Teachers and students alike rely on neighbors with independent power sources just to charge these essential cooling devices overnight.
Why the Teacher Shortage is Reaching a Breaking Point
It is not just about the buildings. It is about the people inside them.
Teacher coverage across the island has dropped to roughly 73%. Low salaries and steady emigration have drained classrooms of experienced educators. To plug the massive holes in the system, the government has resorted to relocating more than 3,000 teachers from eastern provinces into Havana.
Education Minister Naima Trujillo Barreto has publicly urged university students, local professionals, and even retirees to step up and fill empty classrooms. When a country has to beg retired citizens and untrained volunteers to keep basic education afloat, the systemic strain is obvious.
The Uniform and Supply Shortage
You can't teach what you don't have. And right now, Cuba lacks the raw materials to produce basic school needs.
Primary level school uniforms are meeting only 12% of actual demand. Workshops cannot operate without electricity, and without fuel, fabric cannot move across the country. Officials have officially told parents that children can wear comfortable everyday clothing to class, as long as they wear their traditional red or blue neckerchiefs.
Notebooks, pencils, and shoes are equally scarce. Surging inflation means average families must spend a staggering portion of their household income on basic school supplies that the state can no longer provide. Parents are also tasked with helping secure school meals, even though many cafeterias maintain barely a two-week supply of food.
The Bigger Political and Economic Picture
Cuban President Miguel Díaz-Canel and Foreign Minister Bruno Rodríguez frame these school reopenings as an ideological victory against foreign pressure. They point directly to the ongoing U.S. oil embargo and harsh economic sanctions as the root cause of the island's economic strangulation.
On the other side, critics and exhausted citizens point to decades of structural mismanagement. The previous school year had to end a full month early in June because the infrastructure could no longer sustain it.
Yet, the schools are open. Parents are stretching meager rations of pasta, tuna, and mayonnaise to feed their kids lunch. Children are sitting in sweltering classrooms with portable fans, waving at flags and singing anthems.
The system survives purely on grit. If you want to understand how a population perseveres when an entire economy fractures, look at the Cuban schoolyards this month.
