298 L. Kingston, A. Seibert Hanson adequate information, in part because of communication breakdowns with aid workers. Rohingya is the only spoken language that all refugees understand and prefer; two-thirds would prefer written communication in Rohingya but the lack of a universally accepted script prevents its widespread use, thus making verbal communication crucial. After struggling with language challenges in the early days of the crisis (such as misinterpreting “violence against women” as “violent women,” or misunderstanding kinship terms that led to unintentional family separation), TWB and other organizations are developing resources such as translation toolkits and image-based signage to improve communication.8 Notably, the circumstances of displacement are changing the Rohingya language in possibly permanent ways; the dialect of Rohingya spoken by earlier arrivals now differs from that of newcomers, with Bangla words creeping in from Bangladeshi host communities and English coming from aid workers (Scott 2018). Looking beyond the camp, language policies range from being inadequate to outright obstructionist. In Bangladesh, the government prevents Rohingya refugees from learning the local language in an effort to thwart long-term integration. The Bangladeshi government does not allow refugees to attend local schools but simultaneously does not allow formal schools in camps, only allowing for Child Friendly Spaces (CFS) and Learning Centres where children can play and perhaps receive rudimentary lessons. The government contends that refugees are only in the country short term and that formal schooling will encourage families to remain (Schuetze and Neve 2019). Many parents hope to return to Myanmar and therefore want their children to learn Burmese as an aid to eventual reintegration, but Burmese language learning is limited in displacement9—thus continuing the cycle of segregation and discrimination that already existed within Burmese public schools. Some refugees learn English (including at other sites of displacement, such as within Indonesia; see Yasin et al. 2018) in preparation for potential resettlement to Western countries, but that language learning is limited—and possibly not useful, since resettlement to the West is hardly guaranteed. 8 During the COVID-19 pandemic, New York-based arts education nonprofit Artolution employed Rohingya artists to share information in Bangladesh refugee camps. Murals offer a “universal language” despite high illiteracy rates, offering information related to key issues such as public health, environmental protection, and domestic violence (Brown 2021). 9 According to a 2019 report by Human Rights Watch, the Bangladeshi government deliberately deprived Rohingya refugee children of an education. This not only included blocking them from attending local schools, but also failing to provide education within the camps—and blocking humanitarian organizations from doing so, as well (Human Rights Watch 2019). In 2020, UNICEF launched a pilot program in Cox’s Bazaar with the aim of educating 10,000 Rohingya students from grades six to nine. This project, which introduced the formal curriculum from Myanmar with the aim of eventual return, added to UNICEF’s existing strategy of providing informal educational opportunities for children ages four to fourteen. (Reidy 2020). 13