The Teacher Who Chose Her Students Over Herself — Maherin Chowdhury

On a quiet Monday afternoon, 21 July 2025, Milestone School and College in Uttara was alive with the usual rhythm of laughter and learning. Classrooms were filled with chatter, teachers wrapping up lessons, and children eager to return home. In a split second, that peaceful routine turned into chaos. A Bangladesh Air Force training jet — an F-7 BGI — lost control and crashed directly into the school’s primary building. The explosion shook the entire area, and thick black smoke rose above the neighborhood. Within moments, fire and panic spread through the campus.

As terrified students and teachers rushed to escape, one woman ran in the opposite direction. Her name was Maherin Chowdhury, a senior teacher and coordinator at Milestone School’s primary section. When everyone else was trying to get out, she was running back in — toward the smoke, the fire, and the cries of children trapped inside.

Witnesses recall seeing Maherin guiding young pupils through the corridors and helping them out of the building. She had already led several groups of children to safety, but she didn’t stop there. When she heard that more students were still inside, she turned back. Those around her begged her not to go, but she ignored them. Her instinct as a teacher — to protect her students — was stronger than fear.

By the time rescue teams arrived, Maherin had already suffered severe burns. She was rushed to the National Institute of Burn and Plastic Surgery, and later to Dhaka Medical College Hospital. Doctors fought to save her, but the injuries were too extensive. She passed away later that night, leaving behind a family, hundreds of students, and a nation in mourning. Her last words, as reported by family members, were about the children — “They are my children too.”

Maherin Chowdhury was 44 years old. She had dedicated almost two decades of her life to teaching at Milestone School. Her students remember her as gentle and caring, someone who treated every child like her own. Outside of school, she lived with her husband, Mansur Helal, and their two sons — one studying O Levels and the other in Class 9. She often talked about her dream to improve education in her ancestral village, Boglagari in Nilphamari, where she served on the management committee of the local school. She wanted to build better classrooms there, to give children in rural areas the same opportunities as those in the city.

When news of her passing spread, tributes poured in from across the country. Colleagues, students, and parents remembered her selflessness, calling her a true hero. Her funeral in Nilphamari drew hundreds of people who came to pay their respects. The Bangladesh Air Force, local officials, and education authorities all expressed their condolences, and many called for her bravery to be formally recognized. Reports later confirmed that the government planned to introduce a national award in her name — the Maherin Chowdhury Award — to honor teachers who show exceptional courage or dedication.

But beyond official recognition, her legacy lives in the hearts of those she saved. The children she pulled from that burning building are alive today because of her courage. Her story has become a powerful reminder of what it means to be a teacher — not just an instructor, but a guardian, a second parent, and sometimes, a hero.

The tragedy at Milestone School has since sparked wider discussions about safety in educational institutions, especially those located near military training routes or busy flight zones. Parents, teachers, and officials are demanding stronger safety measures so that such a disaster never happens again. Yet even amid these debates, one truth shines through the smoke of that terrible day: the courage of Maherin Chowdhury.

She didn’t wear a uniform or carry a weapon. She didn’t have training in rescue or disaster response. What she had was love — the kind of love that makes a person run back into danger for others. Her final act was not only an extraordinary display of bravery but also the purest form of humanity. In her, Bangladesh saw the face of selflessness.

Today, the classrooms at Milestone are quieter. Students still talk about “Miss Maherin,” the teacher who smiled often, who encouraged them to dream big, who scolded them kindly when they were careless. To them, she will always be the teacher who never left their side — even when it cost her everything.

Her story will be told again and again, not just as a tale of tragedy, but as a symbol of the unbreakable bond between a teacher and her students. In a world that sometimes forgets the quiet heroes among us, Maherin Chowdhury reminds us that true bravery is not found on battlefields or in headlines — it lives in classrooms, in acts of love, and in the heart of a teacher who refused to walk away.