Six Years Empty: When Disability Rights Exist on Paper but Not in Practice

By Radwan Chowdhury, Chief of News

Dhaka | September 5, 2026

A school built specifically for girls with visual impairments should be a place filled with classrooms, learning, friendship and possibility.

Instead, in Kishoreganj, a government built facility has spent six years waiting for the children it was created to serve.

The Integrated Visually Impaired Education Program School and Hostel was completed in 2019 at a cost of Tk 1.61 crore. It was designed to accommodate 10 girls between the ages of 6 and 16, with classrooms, dormitories, furniture and basic facilities intended to provide education and residential support.

Not a single student has been enrolled.

Six years later, the building has reportedly fallen into disrepair. Algae has spread across its walls. Doors and windows have deteriorated. Furniture has disappeared. A facility intended to open a door to education for visually impaired girls has instead become a symbol of administrative failure.

The explanation offered by officials is a shortage of manpower.

That may explain why the school has not opened on a particular day. It does not explain why it has remained closed for six years.

The real cost of an empty school

The Tk 1.61 crore spent on construction is only part of the story.

The greater cost is measured in the opportunities lost by children who could have been studying there.

Every year that the school remains closed represents another year in which a child may be denied access to education, social development, independence and the opportunity to build a future on her own terms.

And this is precisely why disability inclusion cannot be treated as a matter of constructing buildings, announcing programs or passing legislation.

A school has no social value if children cannot enter its doors.

A law has little meaning if the people it protects cannot experience its benefits.

A government program cannot be considered successful simply because the infrastructure has been completed.

The real measure of success is whether a child is actually being served.

The contrast is difficult to ignore

What makes the Kishoreganj situation even more difficult to understand is that a similar institution in Sholakia, also in Kishoreganj, is reportedly operating successfully with 10 students.

That example matters.

It demonstrates that educating visually impaired children is not an unrealistic ambition. The model can work. Children are ready to learn. Families are willing to participate. Schools can operate.

The difference is whether the system actually functions.

If one school can operate while another publicly funded facility sits unused for years, the question is no longer whether disability education is possible.

The question is why the government has allowed one opportunity to succeed while another has been allowed to decay.

Millions of reasons to act

The issue is much larger than one school.

Bangladesh has made important commitments toward protecting the rights of people with disabilities. The Rights and Protection of Persons with Disabilities Act was enacted more than a decade ago and established legal protections concerning education, employment and other areas of public life.

Yet implementation remains a serious challenge.

The National Survey on Persons with Disabilities has already highlighted the scale of the problem, with a large proportion of children with disabilities outside formal education.

Behind those statistics are children and families making difficult decisions every day.

For a child without a disability, going to school can be as routine as putting on a uniform and walking through a classroom door.

For a child with a disability, access can depend on whether there is an appropriate school nearby, whether teachers are trained, whether transportation is available, whether learning materials are accessible and whether the family can overcome social stigma and financial barriers.

When those systems fail, the child pays the price.

Disability is not inability

One of the most damaging misconceptions surrounding disability is the assumption that people with disabilities are inherently dependent or incapable.

That is simply not true.

Visually impaired people around the world are studying at universities, conducting research, working in technology, leading businesses, serving in government and running organizations.

Technology has dramatically expanded what is possible.

Screen readers, accessible software, digital learning platforms, smartphones and other assistive technologies can allow people with visual impairments to study, communicate, work and participate independently.

The barrier is often not the disability itself.

The barrier is whether society chooses to make its institutions accessible.

A staircase can exclude a wheelchair user.

An inaccessible website can exclude a blind person.

A teacher without inclusive education training can unintentionally exclude a student with a disability.

A government school that remains locked for six years excludes an entire generation of children.

This is a rights issue, not charity

Bangladesh needs to change the way it talks about disability.

People with disabilities do not need sympathy as a substitute for opportunity.

They need their rights respected.

Education is a right. Equal participation is a right. Access to employment is a right. Dignity and independence are rights.

Disability inclusion should therefore not depend on whether an administrator happens to be particularly compassionate or whether a local official decides that a project deserves attention.

It should be built into the normal operation of government.

That means budgets must be allocated. Positions must be filled. Teachers must be trained. Facilities must be inspected. Accessibility standards must be enforced. Programs must be evaluated. And when public money is spent on a facility, someone must be accountable for ensuring that the facility actually serves its intended purpose.

The government should act now

The immediate priority in Kishoreganj should be straightforward.

The government should authorize the recruitment of the five required positions, complete the necessary administrative preparations and establish a clear timeline for opening the school and enrolling students.

But opening the doors should only be the beginning.

The government should also conduct a nationwide review of educational facilities established for people with disabilities.

How many are operating?

How many remain closed?

How many have adequate teachers?

How many have qualified staff?

How many have accessible learning materials?

How many have assistive technology?

How much public money has been invested in facilities that remain unused?

And most importantly, how many children are still waiting for the education they were promised?

These questions deserve clear answers.

Build inclusion into the system

A serious national disability inclusion strategy should go beyond individual projects.

Teacher training programs should include practical instruction in inclusive education. Schools should incorporate digital accessibility into their infrastructure and learning systems. Qualified people with disabilities should have meaningful opportunities to become teachers, administrators and education professionals.

Government budgets should include dedicated funding for adaptive learning materials and assistive technologies.

Public buildings and educational institutions should be evaluated against meaningful accessibility standards, not simply declared accessible because a construction project has been completed.

Data should also be published so citizens can see whether programs are actually working.

There should be measurable targets, regular inspections and public accountability.

The child behind the statistic

It is easy to discuss disability inclusion in terms of legislation, budgets and government programs.

But behind every statistic is a child.

A girl who wants to read.

A student who wants to make friends.

A young person who wants to become a teacher, researcher, entrepreneur, doctor, engineer or public servant.

A family that wants its daughter to have the same chance in life as any other child.

The empty school in Kishoreganj is therefore more than an abandoned government building.

It is a reminder of what happens when policy stops at paperwork.

Bangladesh does not need another promise that people with disabilities matter.

It needs functioning schools, accessible institutions, trained educators, effective technology and accountable public administration.

Six years is already far too long to wait.

The doors of that school should open, the classrooms should fill, and the girls it was built for should finally have the opportunity they were promised.

Disability inclusion should not be an occasional government initiative or a subject raised only when a troubling story makes headlines.

It should be part of everyday governance.

Because inclusion is not charity.

It is a right.

And rights mean very little when they exist only on paper.