Ukrainian Teenagers Between the Cruelty of War and the Resilience of Dreams

With his faint mustache, messy hair, and cap, Bohdan resembles any ordinary teenager anywhere in the world. The difference is that his life embodies the tragedies of Ukraine’s young generation, exhausted by a war that has now lasted four years.

His father Stanislav, a professional soldier, was killed on March 30, 2022, at the age of 45 while defending Kharkiv. His mother Iryna, 50, was diagnosed in the fall with stage three uterine cancer. Bohdan Liubchenko, 15, no longer knows anyone his age in his hometown of Balakliia in eastern Ukraine. The town was occupied by the Russian army from March to September 2022 before being retaken by Ukrainian forces, but it remains under threat of shelling.

He says, “I returned with my mother a few days after the city was liberated. There wasn’t a single child left, nor any open shops.” Life has returned to the city timidly and in a limited way; most of its 26,000 inhabitants fled, leaving only a few behind, many of them elderly. The places young people used to frequent are now almost deserted; Russian forces planted mines on the skateboard track and along the banks of the Balakliia River. Although the mines have been cleared, residents still fear the danger.

The teenager continues his studies online, lives daily to the sound of air raid sirens, and takes shelter with his mother in a relatively safe room, as descending four floors to the bunker is not feasible. Yet none of these hardships are reflected on his calm face. His mother says, “It’s not just Bohdan. All the children have adapted very quickly.”

A survey of nearly 24,000 Ukrainian adolescents (aged 11-17) conducted in late 2023 shows that the proportion of those who feel happy has decreased significantly since the Russian invasion on February 24, 2022.

However, the study indicates that “Ukrainian adolescents demonstrate a high level of resilience in the face of war.” In another survey published last August, 34% of children reported that school exams were their main source of stress, while only 27% mentioned air raid sirens.

The study notes that “these results show, in a worrying way, that war has become part of daily life for many children.”

–
–
–

Nearly one million Ukrainian students receive their education in a virtual format, with 300,000 of them exclusively online. In Kharkiv, which is targeted daily by airstrikes, some restaurants remain open until the 11 p.m. curfew begins, while almost every night witnesses drone and missile strikes. Kharkiv has the highest number of damaged educational institutions, with 843 facilities affected, accounting for 20% of the national total.

Schools Underground
Yevheniia Tuturko, 14, has not set foot in a classroom since the invasion began. But on September 1, she returned to sit alongside her classmates in a school built meters underground. The teenager says happily, “I love this so much because I can actually interact with my friends again.”

In this school, built in nine months, school days are split into two halves: in-person and virtual, to provide education for 1,400 students. The school’s director says proudly that it was built “according to the standards of nuclear radiation shelters,” adding, “We are in one of the safest shelters in all of Ukraine.”

Across Ukraine, there are 96 underground schools built near the front lines, with another 211 fortified schools still under construction. The head of the ministerial coordination center for mental health says, “We do not have enough mental health specialists.” To compensate, 130,000 healthcare workers have received training in mental health.

A specialist observes “significant fear and anxiety among children,” adding that “adolescents suffer from self-harm and suicidal thoughts.” Kostiantyn Kosiak, 18, takes medication for tremors and migraines, saying, “The war is the cause. I am constantly stressed.” Kostiantyn, who grew up in the devastated city of Avdiivka, adds, “It made me tougher, but I would have preferred a normal childhood.”

“Continuing to Dream”
Kostiantyn’s family lives on limited resources in a house without heating near Kyiv, but he is studying international law to be able to “protect human rights.”