I was trudging home from an English lesson with my astounding student, an asylum seeker and former child soldier from Sierra Leone who had the most remarkably shy smile. He could speak English well, but he was now learning to read and to write. He knew the Qur’an by heart, but from the first day he had to concentrate to write his own name. Given his love for the Chelsea soccer club, this was another of the first words he labored to write during our sessions.

On that particular day he’d talked about a time when he could go home, become a good leader to the people of his country. This was by far the most ambitious dream he’d voiced. Most of the time he talked about finding a kind wife and starting a family, and then teaching his children to play soccer. The explanation of it always put a…