Refugee Turned NHS Nurse: The Case for Investing in English Classes, Not Cutting Them

Why cutting English classes for refugees is a false economy—and how one NHS nurse proves it.

Rishan T (pictured) is not here to judge. She is here to care.

At 26, Rishan is a qualified nurse working full-time in the National Health Service. She recently became a British citizen after a second attempt—an achievement that marks the culmination of a journey defined by danger, courage, and extraordinary resilience. She didn’t arrive on a student visa, or with family, or on a flight. She came hidden in the back of a lorry.

Rishan’’s family fled Eritrea, one of the most authoritarian regimes on earth, and travelled to the Sudan. Then at 16 she left Sudan, travelling up through Africa to Libya—a place infamous for its detention camps and violence against migrants—before risking her life on a boat across the Mediterranean. She made it to Italy, then journeyed overland to France. In 2015, at just 17 years old, she was living in the makeshift migrant camp known as The Jungle in Calais.

“I came on the back of a lorry,” she recalled in a recent interview. “I came in 2015… I was in Calais, like in France, for a month… Yes, I did live in the Jungle… and every day I would try to come here.”

Eventually, she made it to Britain. She was treated as an Unaccompanied Asylum Seeker (UASC) as she was 17, and placed with a foster family.

“When I arrived in the UK, the first thing—I was taken to a foster family where I felt safe, and… looked after.”

Today, Rishan works in the NHS—caring for patients at their most vulnerable. She holds hands as people pass away. She assists in surgeries, supports recovery, and provides comfort during medical emergencies. She recently completed her nursing degree, fulfilling a dream that began the moment she was given a chance to belong. And she does it all with no judgement and no political filter.

She doesn’t care if you voted for Reform or for Brexit. She’s not here to judge. She’s here to help.

Why She Didn’t Claim Asylum in France or Italy

A common argument made in political debates and media commentary is that asylum seekers should stay in the first “safe” country they enter. In Rishan’s case, that would have been Italy or France. But her experience exposes the hollowness of that claim.

“It wasn’t safe when I was there because I was living on the streets,” she explained. “Nobody approached me to say, ‘Would you like to apply here? Would you like to apply for asylum here, to stay and be in their country?’”

“The police always shifted us to move from here to there… I didn’t have any idea how to apply for asylum.”

Rishan, like many others, received no support from the authorities in France or Italy. No one offered her shelter. No one explained the asylum process. No one protected her from abuse or exploitation. She was a teenage girl alone on the streets, passed from one camp to another, sleeping rough and risking violence.

Her arrival in the UK was not a strategic or deliberate choice, but an act of desperation. It was not part of a plan, but a last resort. And it was here—finally—where she felt recognised and safe.

The Role of English in Building a Life

Rishan’s journey from a scared teenager to a skilled healthcare worker was only possible because she was given the opportunity to learn English. Language was the key that unlocked everything else.

“I spoke no English when I arrived,” she said. “I was 17 when I came… I came by myself… an unaccompanied asylum seeker.”

She was referred to English for Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL) classes, supported by the Kent Refugee Action Network (KRAN)—an organisation that has played a vital role in helping hundreds of young refugees rebuild their lives.

KRAN was established in 2003 to support young unaccompanied refugees and asylum seekers (UASCs). Over the years, it has expanded significantly, developing a range of projects tailored to meet the unique needs of these young people. One of its earliest and longest-running initiatives is the mentoring partnership project, which matches local volunteers with young people to offer consistent friendship, guidance and informal learning.

For over a decade, KRAN has delivered Learning for Life—a project in Canterbury and Folkestone that provides English language education and independent living skills, helping young people transition successfully to college or vocational training. The organisation also runs an advocacy and support project, ensuring young people have access to the services and protections they are entitled to as they adjust to life in the UK. Alongside this practical support, KRAN continues to raise public awareness about the challenges young asylum seekers face, and creates meaningful opportunities for them to engage with the wider community.

These services provided by KRAN were crucial in Rishan’s development. The ESOL classes she attended were about more than just grammar and pronunciation. They provided a space of calm, consistency, and community. They gave her the confidence to apply for college, speak with doctors and social workers, and eventually study nursing.

“Of course English was important,” she said. “You arrive in England… and you want to talk… to understand people. These classes helped me… to speak, to understand, to be confident.”

ESOL gave her the tools not just to survive, but to belong. For many newly arrived refugees, these classes are the first time they feel seen and supported.

But ESOL Is Now Under Threat

Despite overwhelming evidence of its value, ESOL funding in Kent is now under review—and at serious risk of being cut.

In a recent interview with The Daily Telegraph, Cllr Linden Kemkaran – pictured, the newly appointed Leader of Kent County Council, made it clear that she is actively considering reductions to ESOL provision in order to “save money.” She revealed that she has instructed her Cabinet Member for Education to investigate how much the council is spending on English for Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL) classes and to report back. Among the options being explored are cutting the classes altogether, delivering them remotely, or shutting down the adult education centres that host them.

This announcement reveals a troubling lack of understanding about both the needs of asylum seekers and the fundamental role ESOL plays in integration and public service delivery.

Most asylum seekers—regardless of age—have their phones confiscated by the Home Office when they arrive in the UK. This is a routine part of the intake and processing system, used for identification checks, security screening, and digital evidence gathering. It is common for individuals to be left without a phone for weeks or even months. In that time, they often have no access to Wi-Fi, mobile data, or digital devices—and almost never the language skills to navigate alternatives.

In that context, Kemkaran’s suggestion that refugees could instead use free mobile apps like Duolingo is not just ill-informed—it is deeply disconnected from reality.

Beyond the digital barrier, the notion that traumatised individuals—many fleeing war, torture, persecution, or human trafficking—can be expected to independently learn a complex language in isolation, without structured support or a human learning environment, is not only unrealistic but fundamentally unfair.

Even the interviewer, broadly sympathetic to Reform Party talking points, pushed back on the contradiction:

“You can’t be a reformer cancelling English classes for people who don’t speak the lingo.”

Yet this is exactly the policy direction now being floated.

This kind of thinking treats language education as a personal luxury rather than what it actually is: a public investment. Without English, people cannot engage with employment, schooling, or the NHS. They cannot understand medical advice, legal rights, or council tax letters. They cannot apply for jobs or even speak to their neighbours. In short, they cannot integrate.

To cut ESOL is not simply to trim a line item in the budget. It is to dismantle the single most effective bridge we have for helping people move from isolation to contribution—from dependency to dignity.

A False Economy

The argument for cutting ESOL is that it will save money. But that is a dangerously narrow view.

Without English, refugees and migrants are far more likely to remain unemployed, socially isolated, and reliant on public support. This increases pressure on local services—from housing and benefits to social care and mental health. Cutting ESOL creates a cycle of dependency that costs more in the long term.

By contrast, investing in English lessons builds independence, confidence, and economic contribution. People who speak the language are more likely to work, pay taxes, volunteer, and integrate into their communities.

Every £1 invested in ESOL returns multiple times its value through employment, reduced welfare costs, and improved community cohesion. To cut it is not a hard decision. It is a poor one.

What Kind of Country Do We Want to Be?

Rishan’s story is not an exception—it is an example. It shows what is possible when we give people the basic tools to contribute. She was a teenager with nothing. She is now a nurse in one of the country’s most overstretched and essential services.

She got here because someone gave her safety. Someone taught her English. Someone believed she was worth investing in.

Now, she gives back every day—quietly, compassionately, and without prejudice.

Through the support of ESOL lessons, Rishan found her way into nursing. She recently completed her nursing degree, and now offers care without judgement—to the elderly, the sick, the dying. She holds hands, gives comfort, listens with patience, and treats each person with dignity, no matter who they are or how they vote.

She doesn’t care if you voted for Reform or for Brexit. She’s not here to judge. She’s here to help.

Rishan doesn’t discriminate. So why should we?

There are thousands like her—before her, and after her—ready to contribute, if only given the tools. Kent County Council now has a choice: invest in language and inclusion, or dismantle the very pathways that make success like Rishan’s possible.

We cannot claim to value integration while dismantling the very foundations that make it possible.

The question is not whether ESOL deserves support.

The real question is this: Do we want to be a country that empowers people to heal, help, and contribute—or one that wastes potential, shuts people out, and calls it policy?

The Shepway Vox Team

Deliciously Delightful Dissent