The Atlantic and many other news sources have recently reported that students at elite colleges can’t even finish a book, and probably only read one book in high school, if that. The article focuses on the inability of students at elite universities who are struggling more than ever because of their lack of focus and literacy.

As a twenty-two-year veteran English teacher, I can verify that much of this argument is true. I have seen the curricula of high school English shift from reading novels to focusing on shorter, nonfiction texts since Common Core was implemented soon after I started teaching. So, yes, in school, students aren’t reading many books. But what about the rest of their time? Are they playing sports, playing on their phones, playing with drugs, or all of the above?

As my career has shifted from a typical English classroom to a Newcomer classroom, I am challenged with many more pressing issues. Students who don’t know how to cope with the trauma they have experienced. Students who only went to school sporadically at best or not at all. Students who have never held a pencil and students who have witnessed gang or war violence all of their lives.

In my attempt to teach them functional English–everything from the 44 phonemic sounds of our English alphabet to how to ask for directions–I must also teach them about the way our world works… or, at least, how to function in this new country.

When I find out that one of my students is pregnant, I feel it’s my fault because I didn’t tell that shy, sweet child to walk downstairs to the clinic and get the free birth control Colorado provides.

When I find out one of my students doesn’t only speak Sango but Ngama and was forced to attend school in Chad where everything was taught in French, I know I need to find more resources for her family so she can finally learn to read… in English, her fourth language.

When I find out one of my student’s stepfather is abusing his mother, after they crossed the Darién Gap together and weathered the immigration storm only to discover things aren’t much better here, I know I need to connect him to housing resources and domestic violence shelters.

When I discover that none of my students has ever read a book and can barely read the ten-page phonics stories in our weekly reading groups, but stumble through every word in their attempt to learn English, I think about what a waste our world’s resources are. We have the richest country in the world and public libraries every half a mile, and as usual, teachers are blamed because students can’t read, even these elite students who have the world’s books at their fingertips.

These “elite” students can’t get through a novel, and sometimes I feel like I can’t get through a day. Maybe they feel the same way, but I don’t know why. I don’t know why our government doesn’t open its arms to welcome the burning desire that every immigrant I’ve ever met has had to work and be a part of something that they couldn’t find elsewhere.

Instead, Trump comes to my town and tells his followers, all from a luxurious resort with six restaurants and an indoor water park, that immigrant gangs are ruining our city.

My classroom is mostly Venezuelan, and most Venezuelans are the most literate and hardworking students I have. He doesn’t know a goddamn thing about why they’re here or what they’re doing or where they’re living or what they have to offer. Just like those elite university students who can’t get through a novel, he couldn’t possibly survive a day in their shoes or stand at the front of my classroom trying to convey the cultural nuances of this country while also bridging the gaps between what they know and what they have to learn.

Now, who should we be more worried about–the elite students who don’t have the stamina to finish a book, the candidate who has likely never read one, or the immigrants whose lives are already more traumatic than any novel, and are here to tell their story and make this country part of it?

You tell me… if you’ve had the stamina to read this.