Imagine being eight years old and watching a family member shot in front of you, or hearing your mother and sisters assaulted in the room next door. Imagine your home reduced to rubble. You flee to a neighboring country, carrying what little you can, seeking safety — only to face new hardships in a refugee camp.
In the camp, access to education is minimal, if available at all. Some classrooms hold over 300 students, with almost no books or supplies. Children grow up knowing only survival.
Years later, after extensive vetting and legal entry through the U.S. refugee program, a small fraction of these children are resettled in places like Utah — landing in neighborhoods and schools that may feel unfamiliar, overwhelming and isolating.
As the new school year begins, we have a unique opportunity — and responsibility — to ensure refugee students are not only enrolled but also embraced. Over 40% of Utah’s refugee population is under 18.
As director of Utah Refugee Connection, I’ve had countless meaningful moments with refugee children from around the world. They’ve opened my eyes to new perspectives and helped me appreciate what I once took for granted.
Years ago, I met Aruna, a refugee student at the University of Utah. She had seen the challenges surrounding menstruation in her community and wanted to help educate Nepalese women. Studying biomedical engineering, she worked on biodegradable menstrual pads and raised awareness about health practices. Today, Aruna is in medical school — a testament to what’s possible when someone is given a chance.
Another 10-year-old refugee girl I know dreams of becoming a math teacher. In her homeland, girls’ educational opportunities were severely limited. She often reflects on how different her life would be without school. Now, she hopes to open doors for others like her.
I also remember a young man from Somalia who told a group he feels ten years behind due to disrupted education. “I don’t want a handout — just a hand up,” he said. He longed to “catch up and regain his confidence.” Trauma haunts his learning — what he called a “cassette” of childhood horrors. But with time and kindness, he’s slowly replacing that tape with something new.
During the pandemic, I met Ashis, a high schooler trying to do homework on an old computer. When I gave him a better one, he promised to use it for good. He began teaching English to children in Nepal and launched a nonprofit to help the homeless stay warm in Utah winters.
This fall, students like these will fill seats in our schools — sitting next to your children and grandchildren. They carry heavy stories, but also great potential.
Even the most determined students can struggle if they don’t feel safe, seen or supported. That’s why schools — and the communities around them — must become places of healing and connection.
Ishmael Beah, forced to serve as a child soldier, once told an audience, “Creativity, intelligence, and ingenuity are universal — but opportunity is not.” Education is a lifeline — but what refugee students need most is not just a classroom. They need a friend.
This school year, we can all play a part:
Be the one to welcome the newcomer. Sitting with someone at lunch or offering to guide a peer who doesn’t speak the language — with a smile and an outstretched hand — can change a life. These simple gestures build confidence, connection and belonging. They are the foundation of meaningful community. (This video about my friend Naima is a good one to share.)
Tutor a refugee student. Many parents work multiple jobs or are still learning English. A volunteer tutor can mean the difference between falling behind and finding a future. Contact local refugee service organizations to get involved, like Salt Lake City’s Know Your Neighbor program.
Offer to donate items needed for back-to-school success. Utah Refugee Connection is collecting 3,000 new, sturdy backpacks for refugee students. Drop-offs are accepted at 3134 S. 300 E., South Salt Lake, Mondays and Fridays, 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. (Deadline: July 30.)
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints — a former refugee himself — once said, “I pray all of those who have been forced from their homes will be able to feel God’s love through your acts of kindness.”
Pope Francis reminds us, “Refugees are not numbers. They are people who have faces, names, stories, and dreams just like us.”
Let’s take those dreams seriously. Let’s build schools and communities where refugee children feel valued, not invisible — supported, not sidelined. Let’s be the mentors, advocates and friends they need.
History will remember how we treated the stranger at our door — and in our schools. Let it remember that we opened the door, pulled out a chair and made room.