By Shilpi Rani Dey

"It's a jail... I'm falling so far behind!" These words were repeated by high school going children detained at the Child Development Centres (CDC) under Bangladesh's juvenile justice system, expressing deep frustration at being denied meaningful access to education. Regardless of whether they had been placed in the CDC for as 'safe custody' as victims of offense for 'coming into contact with the law' as victims of offense or for 'coming into conflict with the law' for alleged offences including theft, shoplifting, vandalism, drug dealing, sex offenses or even murder, their educational trajectories were abruptly and uniformly disrupted. In practice, children detained at the CDCs were unable to continue any formal education beyond Class Five, despite many having previously been enrolled at secondary or higher secondary levels. This systemic exclusion directly contradicts Bangladesh's legal and international commitments. Bangladesh ratified the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) in 1990, which guarantees every child's right to education without discrimination. In line with this obligation, the Children Act of 2013 (amended in 2018) mandates the provision of proper education for children in institutional care, explicitly prioritising the best interests of the child. However, the lived experiences of justice-involved children reveal a stark gap between law and practice.

Using a qualitative research approach, I conducted in-depth interviews with children currently detained at the CDCs, as well as those who had been released. The narratives consistently revealed that the CDC operates less as a development centre rather as a detention centre which children perceive as 'jail', 'prison' or 'cage'. Asiya (pseudonym), a fifteen-year-old former detainee, exemplifies the long-term consequences of this failure. During her three years at the CDC, she lost all access to formal schooling. Reflecting on her experience, she explained:

The only training I got at the CDC was in sewing, but I want to be a teacher. Even though my family moved to a new neighbourhood so people wouldn't know about my past, news spread that I had been 'in jail'. I tried getting into two schools, but each time my parents were told that the other parents didn't want me admitted because I was a 'dangerous girl'. How can I become a teacher when no school will have me, and people say that I am a criminal? I won't even be able to get a government job because I have a criminal record.

Asiya's account highlights how educational exclusion inside the justice system is compounded by social stigma after release. Not only are girls deprived of learning opportunities during detention, but they are also denied reintegration into mainstream education upon return to their communities. Similarly, sixteen-year-old Jalil (pseudonym), who had been enrolled in Class Seven, was sent to the Child Development Centre (CDC) for boys after "coming into conflict with the law" and was detained there for two years without receiving any formal academic education. Following his involvement with the justice system, he no longer had access to schooling. Jalil expressed that the training provided at the centre was not aligned with his future aspirations. He hopes to become an engineer; however, the existing services offered little support in helping him move closer to this goal.

Evidence shows that children at secondary or higher secondary levels receive no formal academic education while detained. Instead, they are offered limited vocational training primarily sewing or embroidery for girls, carpentry, electric, fridge and refrigeration training for boys regardless of their age, prior educational attainment, or future aspirations. Such training, while potentially useful for some, is narrowly gendered, minimal in scope, and fails to meet the educational needs of adolescent who aspire to professional careers. This practice effectively penalises teens for their involvement with the justice system by stripping them of their right to educational continuity. Moreover, the absence of social rehabilitation and social reintegration or post-release educational support further entrenches exclusion. Children are returned to their communities without assistance in re-enrolling in schools, addressing gaps in learning, or navigating the stigma associated with detention. Many of them face outright rejection from educational institutions due to their perceived "criminal" status, even when they were detained under "safe custody" rather than for a criminal offence. The presence of a criminal record often poorly explained and difficult to challenge acts as an additional structural barrier to future education and employment. The cumulative impact of these failures is severe. Several participants described profound frustration, hopelessness, and emotional distress stemming from the realisation that they had "fallen too far behind" academically. While the justice system is ostensibly designed to rehabilitate and protect, in practice it reproduces harm by foreclosing children's educational futures and reinforcing social marginalisation.

It can be argued that the juvenile justice system in Bangladesh not fully ensuring justice-involved children's right to education, both during detention and after release. By failing to provide age-appropriate, continuous, and aspirational education and by neglecting reintegration support, the system undermines the very principles of rehabilitation and best interests it claims to uphold. Addressing this gap is not merely a matter of policy improvement but a legal and moral obligation. The Bangladeshi government must urgently reform educational provision within CDCs, eliminate discriminatory barriers to school re-entry, and develop comprehensive post-release support mechanisms to ensure that justice-involved girls are not permanently excluded from education, dignity, and opportunity. For example, during detention, young people can be provided with textbooks and opportunities to enrol in Bangladesh Open University, allowing them to continue their education through open and distance learning modes. In addition, flexible, place-based enrolment options can be offered to ensure continuity of education during and after detention. To effectively implement these initiatives, an integrated and coordinated approach involving the Ministry of Education, the Ministry of Social Welfare, and the Ministry of Home Affairs is essential. Although these challenges persist at present, the development of a long-term strategic plan can contribute to sustainable success. Such an approach can also support the achievement of relevant Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Through an integrated and comprehensive framework that prioritises the best interests of children, it is possible to reduce recidivism rates and lower the likelihood of reoffending providing them their rights to receive education.

The writer is a PhD graduate from Western Sydney University, Australia.