In the early hours of September 12, 2025, the quiet of Thayet Thapin village in Kyauktaw Township, Rakhine State, Myanmar, was shattered by the roar of a military jet. According to multiple reports from the Associated Press and local media, two 500-pound bombs were dropped on Pyinnyar Pan Khinn and A Myin Thit Private High Schools, where dozens of students were sleeping. The aftermath was devastating: at least 18 people, most of them teenagers, lost their lives, and more than 20 others were injured, including six who remain in critical condition.
This airstrike, which also damaged at least six nearby houses, wasn’t an isolated event. As reported by the Los Angeles Times and other outlets, it forms part of a broader campaign of air raids sweeping across Rakhine State—a region already scarred by years of conflict and displacement. The military, for its part, has not acknowledged the attack, and with internet and cellphone service in the area largely cut off, independent verification remains a challenge. Still, images of debris and ruined classrooms have filtered out, painting a grim picture of the destruction wrought by the bombs.
“Most of the victims were 17- to 18-year-old students from the private schools,” Khaing Thukha, a spokesperson for the Arakan Army, told the Associated Press. Wai Hun Aung, a relief coordinator in Rakhine, confirmed that those killed were among 30 to 40 boarders at the schools. “I received the information from relief workers who were in the village,” he explained, noting that the blast left at least six homes damaged and dozens of people wounded.
The tragedy in Thayet Thapin is just the latest chapter in Myanmar’s ongoing crisis. Since the military seized power from the elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi on February 1, 2021, the country has been plunged into chaos. Peaceful protests against the coup were met with lethal force, and, as reported by numerous non-governmental organizations, more than 7,200 people have been killed by security forces since then. The violence has driven many citizens to take up arms, fueling a nationwide conflict that shows little sign of abating.
The Arakan Army—the well-armed ethnic Rakhine military wing seeking autonomy from Myanmar’s central government—has played a prominent role in this struggle. Beginning its latest offensive in November 2023, the group has steadily gained ground, capturing Kyauktaw in February 2024 and now controlling 14 of Rakhine’s 17 townships, including the strategically significant regional army headquarters. The Arakan Army’s presence in Thayet Thapin village, where the airstrike occurred, underscores the shifting balance of power in the region.
For the military junta, air power has become a weapon of choice in its efforts to suppress resistance. According to the Associated Press, the government has recently intensified its aerial bombardments against both the ethnic Arakan Army and the pro-democracy People’s Defense Force. These resistance groups, however, have little to no defense against air attacks, leaving civilians—especially children—vulnerable to the full force of the military’s arsenal.
Local media in Rakhine, as cited by the Los Angeles Times, reported that as many as 22 students were killed in the strike, with photos and videos of the aftermath showing mangled buildings and scattered debris. The true toll remains uncertain, but the images speak volumes: twisted rebar, collapsed roofs, and the haunting absence of young voices that once filled the classrooms.
Kyauktaw, located roughly 250 kilometers southwest of Mandalay, Myanmar’s second-largest city, has long been a flashpoint in the country’s ethnic and political conflicts. Rakhine State itself—formerly known as Arakan—bears deep scars from previous military campaigns. In 2017, a brutal counterinsurgency operation forced some 740,000 Rohingya Muslims to flee across the border into Bangladesh, drawing international condemnation and accusations of ethnic cleansing.
The recent airstrike has reignited fears of escalating violence and further humanitarian crises. Relief workers, operating under difficult conditions, have struggled to reach survivors and assess the full extent of the damage. “Access to the village is limited due to internet and cellphone service cutoffs,” noted one local report, highlighting the challenges faced by those trying to deliver aid or even basic information.
For many in Myanmar, the events in Thayet Thapin are a grim reminder of the dangers faced by children and civilians in conflict zones. The schools targeted in the attack were not military installations or rebel hideouts—they were places of learning, sheltering students who, until moments before the bombs fell, were simply trying to sleep. The violence has drawn sharp criticism from human rights groups and fueled calls for greater international attention to Myanmar’s ongoing crisis.
The military’s silence on the attack has only deepened the sense of outrage and despair among victims’ families and local communities. With no official acknowledgment, let alone accountability, the prospects for justice remain slim. Yet, as the Associated Press and other outlets have documented, the resistance in Rakhine and across Myanmar continues, driven by a determination to secure autonomy and freedom from military rule.
The United Nations and international organizations have repeatedly condemned the use of airstrikes against civilian targets, warning that such actions may constitute war crimes. However, the junta’s increasing reliance on aerial attacks suggests a willingness to escalate the conflict, regardless of the cost to innocent lives. The targeting of schools—a symbol of hope and future—has struck a particularly painful chord, raising urgent questions about the future of Myanmar’s children and the soul of the nation itself.
As news of the Thayet Thapin airstrike spreads, the world is once again confronted with the harsh realities of Myanmar’s civil war. For the families who lost loved ones, for the wounded struggling to recover, and for the students whose dreams were shattered in an instant, the tragedy is deeply personal. Yet it also serves as a stark warning: in Myanmar, even the sanctity of a classroom offers no guarantee of safety.
In the shadow of the ruined schools, survivors and aid workers are left to pick up the pieces—both literal and figurative. Their resilience, in the face of overwhelming odds, is a testament to the enduring spirit of Myanmar’s people. But as long as the bombs keep falling, the hope for peace and normalcy remains heartbreakingly out of reach.