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By Sonal Nain
Newsletter Reporter/Producer
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War has changed the lives of millions of Ukrainian children—its shadow is now part of their story. A child in Kryvyi Rih wakes to school, lessons and the chatter of classmates. After classes, homework yields to boxing training or English lessons—until air raid alerts cut the day short, a sharp reminder of the war pressing perilously close. The city, 60 kilometres from the frontlines, hums with school bells, playgrounds echo with sports practice and friends laugh and play in the streets. Yet beneath this veneer, the wail of sirens, the hurried stamp of feet into basements and the slam of shelter doors have become just as familiar.
“Growing up here means growing up too fast,” 12-year-old Smirnova Sasha tells Newsweek. “Being a child is bad and very scary.” Her account reflects the disorienting new normal for a generation raised under the shadow of war.
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As of December 2024, an estimated 737,000 children had been internally displaced by hostilities, with a further 1.7 million becoming refugees. Since the invasion began in February 2022, 669 children have been killed and 1,833 injured, according to the UN. Beyond physical harm, the war has taken a deep psychological toll. UNICEF estimates that 1.5 million children are at risk of depression, anxiety, PTSD and other mental health issues.
“Over the past year, we have seen children become more aggressive, experience nightmares and insomnia, and fall behind in school because they are unable to concentrate,” says Yuriy Boyechko, CEO of Hope for Ukraine, supporting displaced and affected children. Ukrainian psychologists with Project HOPE have reported a surge in children showing signs of worsening anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder.
“I feel safe when I’m with my family,” says 13-year-old Synytska Linida. “Knowing we are together gives me strength. She adds, “The war has become a part of my life. It changed my perception of the world and taught me to appreciate what I have and made me grateful for peaceful moments we often take for granted.” Linida’s typical day mixes school, training, hanging out with friends and household chores, with small moments of joy offering brief relief from fear.
The mental strain is compounded by the war’s impact on education. According to the World Bank, more than 10 percent of Ukraine’s education infrastructure has been destroyed, with damage estimated at $13.4 billion. Since February 2022, over 4,000 educational institutions have been damaged or destroyed, including 229 schools and 110 kindergartens. As of late 2024, 741,000 children were studying in hybrid formats due to lack of shelters, and 443,000 were learning entirely online in active conflict zones.
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Andrii Vasyliev, also 13, reflects the quiet resilience shared by his peers: “Before the war, everything was normal, but now we often hear sirens and think about safety. It is much more stressful, deep down we want peace and a normal childhood.” Air raid sirens in Ukraine are only activated in case of a real threat or emergency. When a siren sounds, teachers must immediately stop the lesson and escort children to a shelter.
Air raid sirens interrupt learning constantly. Children missed an average of one in every five lessons during the school year. The most significant disruptions to the education process occurred in the northern and central regions of Ukraine. According to Save the Children’s analysis published in May 2025, in frontline regions like Sumy, students missed 85 percent of lessons—around 700 out of 830. Kharkiv and Donetsk students lost more than two-thirds of their classes, while Zaporizhzhia and Dnipropetrovsk missed over 40 percent. Even remote classes are interrupted, as children must still seek shelter when alerts sound.
Fifteen-year-old Yurchenko Sofia adds, “boxing makes me confident and strong, and I feel safe with my family, coaches and teammates,” highlighting how structured activities provide rare pockets of security.
Hope for Ukraine has responded with programs that restore fragments of childhood. Their A Child’s Smile Project organizes summer camps abroad, community events and orphanage visits. In August 2025, they took children from frontline areas to Italy for their first summer camp abroad. For many, it was the first time in three years that they slept without the fear of air raid sirens or helicopters and were woken by birds singing instead of drones or missiles.
“The initiative restores children’s belief in the goodness of humanity and helps them realize that they are not alone—that someone cares for them, even if their own families have no means to do so because they either cannot afford it or have been sent to the frontlines,” says Boyechko.
Many recall the trips vividly. Sofiia Shvets, 16, describes a camp in Italy where she felt safe, laughed, trained and simply became a child again. “The support inspired me to stay strong and dream of helping others one day.” Artem Klymentenko, 14, notes that camps allowed him to meet peers, build friendships and escape the constant alarms that dominate his home life.
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These interventions offer tangible benefits. Children return with renewed energy, hope and social connections. Boxing, gymnastics, summer camps and communal activities give them a sense of agency and moments of joy. “Being part of a group made me feel more connected and less stressed,” Linida says.
Yet the reality is inescapable. Dariia Chyhryn, 16, compares life to living “like a helpless insect that someone wants to crush. We are innocent but forced to live under shelling.” Twelve-year-old Kozina Daryna echoes the sentiment: “We shouldn’t have to see war, rockets, explosions and suffering.”
Boyechko stresses the broader responsibility: “Local communities do what they can, but the global community must continue to highlight the hardships these children face. NGOs like ours need support to expand mental health programs. Ukraine’s allies must work to end the war and restore peace, so children and families can rebuild their lives.”
These children are not just victims—they are Ukraine’s future workforce, soldiers and citizens.
For the children themselves, hope persists even amid fear. “We still try to learn, laugh and dream,” Linida says. “We are strong, support each other and believe in peace.” In a city shadowed by conflict, children train, laugh and play—offering a glimpse of what the future Ukraine might reclaim.
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