She was so beautiful that whenever she walked by I had to stop and stare. Long silky black hair, almond brown eyes, fair complexion–no one would have guessed Tania couldn't speak English.

By a miracle we had been assigned seats next to each other in the "baby biology" class that I had planned to swap to AP Bio. I remember her stunning beauty and my shock when she raised her hand and stammered, "I don't speak English." In hindsight, I learned much more about life by helping students like Tania in biology than I could have in an advanced class.

Soon after, I met Basmala, an Egyptian immigrant who wore hijab. We weren't in any classes together, but I hunted her out at lunch. Her plain, brown face was the most beloved to me in the school. Sitting with her at lunch, I heard of the hardships of immigrant students. In English class, Basmala understood none of The Great Gatsby. The teacher directed her to use Google Translate, but Standard Arabic, used in high education and Google, is completely different from conversational Egyptian dialect.

One frustration I had with my attraction to immigrants was their obvious disattachment. No matter how hard I thought I tried, I couldn't be "among" them, even feeling mocked behind my back. When I ran up to Spanish-speaking classmates accompanied by their friends with a broad smile and "Hola!" I often got sulky looks and a walk-away, washing me with mortification. I would ask Basmala to teach me Arabic, and she would insist no, not letting me into that part of her life.

At first, I was enraged and humiliated. Eventually, though, I came to accept the barriers of language and culture. People are naturally attracted to those who have the same background, experiencing awkwardness with a culture barrier. It requires a lot of effort to merge, because initially immigrants will not want to let anyone in. Every tongue has ways to belittle other languages, and to my "friends", my American roots clearly set me apart. 

Despite their resistance to my help, I clearly saw immigrant peers' needs. Tania told me that her family had moved here from Colombia for a "mejor futuro", which touched my heart. The disparity between her American dream and her real experience, understanding only half of school material, was unfair. Another girl who had been the top student of her class in Albania was now a C student. Through Egyptian immigrants Hana and Basma, I discovered that even without a language barrier, immigrant students were not pushed as they had been in their home countries. They were viewed as average or even under-average students, whereas they had been motivated to migrate to America due to their academic excellence. America did not–and does not–prioritize immigrants the way they gave up their homes and people for America.

Now, I ignore the inevitable difficulties of trying to interact with immigrants. Instead, I look at my own weaknesses–how motivated would I be to learn another language for an education and then conversation? With days turning into months of falling behind in class, would I be able to drag on my hopes? I hear my initial complaints echoed by teachers, angry at immigrant students for giving up. But how can we blame them when we don't give them our best?

We must remember to approach our immigrant friends sincerely, making them love what is best for them. Rather than pushing them to understand material in English, we should start with helpers in their natural tongue so they can first feel a sense of academic appreciation. We should help immigrants form communities who can struggle together and encourage each other to keep reaching for their goals and dreams. Today, I strive to show interest in the languages of my immigrant friends while also extending academic help, trying to link fun themes with studies. Through my efforts, I have learned much from them. The sweet but strong bonds I have formed serve as a lasting reminder to stop and help rather than criticize and ignore such people of sacrifice.