
Education in Nepal, Part 1: A tale of two schools
Education in Nepal, Part 1: A tale of two schools
- Published
Same municipality, 5km away, but worlds apart. Why are some public schools so much better resourced than others?
- Journalist
- Naushad Ali Husein
- Photographer
- Uma Bista
We’re 5 minutes off the main highway connecting the capital city Kathmandu with the country’s plains, known locally as the Terai. The air is thick with the smell of mango flowers. The blooms are so plentiful that you can barely see the leaves. Wheat fields are turning golden in the sweltering heat. This is the opposite of the snowcapped Himalayan landscapes that Nepal is known for.
The image of those mountains might lead anyone outside Nepal to assume that the question of access to schools in Nepal is a physical one. It is true that long and arduous journeys to school are a fact of mountain life, but Nepal is made up of three distinct landscapes: the mountains, the hills, and the Terai. Only about 6% of the population lives in the mountain regions. More than half of the country’s population lives in the Terai, which has the lowest enrolment rates at just about every level of schooling, according to the national census of 2021.

Why is enrolment so low in the regions where it’s easiest to get around? To understand more, we focus on the municipality of Haripur in Madhesh, the province with the lowest overall literacy rate in Nepal.
The ‘good’ school
Our first stop is Shree Mahaveer Janata High School. Its two main three-story buildings are separated by a large playing field. They are flanked by several smaller ones: residential facilities for visually impaired students and female students from other districts; an older tree-shaded single-story building with an inviting gazebo (the only remaining part of the original building when the school was founded in 2001); a science building donated by an American citizen. Another new building is under construction.
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Vice Principal Madhukar Bhandari greets us warmly. He is fair-skinned and light-eyed, his collar is crisp. He has on a jacket despite the heat. His demeanour is warm, but he is troubled. The logos of various national and international NGOs on its signage indicate that this school has resources that others do not. Yet Bhandari is frustrated by frequent dropouts and dismal attendance.
According to the rules, any student with below 75% attendance must repeat their grade, he says. By that standard, two-thirds of his students should be held back this academic year. A fifth of students had less than half of the school year. 3% of students attended less than 15% of school days.



Bhandari says his school is trying to appeal to the young generation by introducing internet connectivity and incorporating digital technology. Given the lack of resources, schools are encouraged to actively seek out partnerships with NGOs and find their own funding for new facilities for school. Shri Mahaveer Janta has been relatively successful in this. It has a science lab, a computer lab with internet, a new library, and smartboards in six classrooms. Bhandari says the school plans to install smartboards in all of its classrooms.
Things are much worse in more remote areas, he says. “In the south, schools are often empty after lunch break.”
Towards the south…
For Shree Adharbhut school in Majurva, about 5km away, computer labs and smartboards would be an absurdity. It’s a run-down tin-roof structure with an abundance of colour.

The walls are a faded pink. The grade 8 children are celebrating their last day in school by playing holi. They are zipping about, their hands and faces smeared with colour, dodging a pile of discarded furniture rusting on one side of the courtyard. For now, they’ve forgotten the uncertainty of the following year. Will they continue school? This village has no upper secondary public school.
We peak into the classrooms. The furniture is barebones, but usable, the whiteboards are permanently stained from years of writing and wiping. One class is missing a sheet from its roof. Sunlight pours in. “We’re still sorting out the costs to replace that,” says Principal Sanjar Ansari. “For now, if it rains we have to let that class go.”







