4 Biggest Challenges Facing Arabic Learners Abroad

As a Moroccan Arabic teacher with a background in Islamic studies, I’ve spent the last seven years teaching Arabic online to non-native speakers, especially children of Arab immigrants in Europe and North America. Most of my students are between the ages of 7 and 16. They were born and raised outside the Arab world, and Arabic is not the main language spoken around them. Their parents often speak Arabic at home, but the children respond in the language of the country they live in—English, French, German, or Dutch. This gap between generations creates a slow, silent distance from Arabic, and it’s a trend I’ve seen growing every year.

One of the biggest challenges is motivation. For many of these students, Arabic is not useful in school, not needed in daily life, and not cool or modern. It’s something they are “told” to learn, usually for religious or cultural reasons. When students feel forced, not inspired, progress becomes difficult. I’ve seen intelligent, curious students lose interest after just a few weeks because they don’t feel connected to the language. As a teacher, I have to do more than teach grammar or reading. I have to help the student see why Arabic matters to them. That takes creativity and patience.

Another challenge is access to quality materials. A lot of Arabic learning content is outdated or designed for native speakers. Children growing up in the West don’t relate to it. They need materials that match their world—simple, clear, and modern, but still rooted in authentic Arabic. I often have to create my own worksheets, exercises, and stories that focus on reading and writing, because what’s available online doesn’t meet the real needs of these learners.

Technology also plays a double role. On one side, it helps me reach students across the globe. On the other side, it surrounds them with content in other languages all the time. Arabic is not present in their YouTube videos, games, or social media. This makes it even harder for them to keep Arabic active in their minds. Without daily exposure, their progress slows down or even stops.

These are just some of the challenges. I face them every day. But they also push me to improve my methods, find new strategies, and listen more carefully to my students. Because I believe Arabic still has a future—if we work for it.

Another issue we need to talk about is the fear of making mistakes. Many students, especially teenagers, feel shy or embarrassed when speaking Arabic. They worry about pronunciation, grammar, and sounding “wrong.” This fear often comes from comparisons. They hear native speakers from their home countries—parents, relatives, people at the mosque—and feel their own Arabic is weak or not “real.” I always tell my students that learning a language is not about being perfect. It’s about using what you know, step by step, until you grow stronger. But this fear is real, and if not addressed, it can stop students from even trying.

Then there’s the problem of dialects. Arabic is not one language. There’s Modern Standard Arabic, which is used in books, news, and formal speech. Then there are dialects—Moroccan, Egyptian, Syrian, Gulf, and many others. Most students hear one dialect at home but learn Standard Arabic in class. This can be confusing. Some ask me, “Why do we say it this way at home but you’re teaching me something different?” It’s a fair question. I usually explain the difference and try to show how both are part of the Arabic family. Still, for a beginner, it’s another obstacle.

I also notice that many parents expect fast results. They want their child to speak, read, and write Arabic fluently in a short time. But language takes time. If a child only studies Arabic one or two hours a week, it’s not realistic to expect high fluency after a few months. This pressure sometimes creates stress for the child and disappointment for the parent. I try to remind them that progress is slow but real. If a student keeps learning, even with small steps, the results will come.

Finally, the future of Arabic for non-native speakers will depend on us—teachers, parents, and the larger community. If we continue using old methods, outdated content, and strict approaches, we will lose more students. But if we modernize, adapt, and build a system that respects the learner’s environment and needs, we can keep Arabic alive in the next generations.

This work is not easy. But it’s necessary. And if we don’t take it seriously now, the challenge will grow larger in the future.

When I speak to other Arabic teachers working with children of the diaspora, I hear the same stories. Students who can understand but can’t speak. Students who can speak but can’t read or write. Parents who say, “My child understands everything, but refuses to answer in Arabic.” This passive knowledge is not enough. If we want Arabic to survive in these new environments, we need active use—speaking, writing, thinking in Arabic.

One thing I try to focus on is reading. Many of my students never read anything in Arabic outside of our lessons. No books, no comics, not even simple stories. If there’s no reading, the language stays weak. That’s why I design lessons that include reading short, clear texts that they can relate to. Stories about daily life. School, family, food, travel. I avoid religious or formal texts at the beginning, not because they aren’t important, but because they feel too distant for a beginner.

I also try to make writing part of every lesson. Not just copying words, but writing simple sentences. I ask them to describe their day, write about their favorite food, or write a message to their parents in Arabic. This small habit helps them build confidence. They start to see Arabic not just as a subject, but as a tool they can use.

Some people ask me why I care so much. Why focus on Arabic when these children already have another strong language? My answer is always the same. Language is identity. It’s not just about words. It’s about knowing who you are, where you come from, and how you connect with your culture. When a child loses Arabic, they lose part of that connection. I’ve seen young people regret this loss when they get older. They say, “I wish I had learned Arabic when I was younger.” I don’t want my students to say that.

Of course, I can’t control everything. I can’t change their school system or the language of their country. But inside my classroom, even if it’s online, I try to create a space where Arabic is alive. A space where it’s okay to make mistakes, to ask questions, to try again. That’s how learning happens. Not through fear or pressure, but through respect and encouragement.

Arabic has a future. But only if we build it.

One more challenge I deal with is the lack of consistent practice. Arabic, like any language, needs regular exposure. If a student only hears Arabic once a week in a class, it’s not enough. They forget vocabulary. They mix letters. They lose confidence. I always ask parents to support the learning process at home, even in simple ways. Speak to your child in Arabic. Ask them to write the grocery list in Arabic. Let them watch cartoons or listen to songs in Arabic. It doesn’t have to be formal. It just needs to be consistent. Some parents understand this and try. Others think the teacher alone is responsible. But language learning doesn’t work like that. It’s a shared responsibility. The more the child sees Arabic as a part of normal life, the stronger their skills will become. If Arabic stays locked in a textbook, they will forget it as soon as the lesson ends. I’ve seen this happen many times. We need to make Arabic part of life again—not just a subject to study, but a language to live.

The future of Arabic among non-native speakers, especially the children of Arab families living abroad, depends on serious and realistic efforts. From what I’ve seen, it’s not enough to simply teach the language. We must create a full environment that supports the learner—through content, motivation, connection, and practice. Teaching Arabic to these students requires more than explaining grammar or correcting spelling. It requires understanding their context, their needs, and their world. We can’t expect children to speak Arabic with confidence if they only hear it once a week, if they see it as old-fashioned, or if they feel ashamed of making mistakes. We must be flexible. We must meet them where they are.

That’s why I created Ramdani Arabic Academy. I didn’t find enough tools and platforms that truly focused on the practical side of teaching Arabic to non-native speakers, especially children and teenagers in the West. So I decided to build my own space. A space where students could learn at their own pace, with content made for them—not for native speakers, not for advanced learners, but for real students living in real situations. At Ramdani Arabic Academy, I focus on reading and writing as key skills, because I believe they are the foundation. I design lessons, exercises, and full courses based on what I’ve seen works best after years of direct experience.

The academy is more than a website. It’s part of a mission I’ve committed myself to: helping the Arabic language stay alive in the hearts and minds of our children, wherever they live. I want every learner to feel that Arabic belongs to them—not just to a classroom or a teacher.

If you want to know more about me, my work, and my teaching philosophy, you can visit this page: [About Ramdani Mohamed – click here]
If you are interested in accessing my courses and programs, you can go directly to this platform: [Course Platform – click here]

Arabic will survive. But it won’t happen by chance. It will happen through real effort, by people who care, who teach, who build, and who don’t give up.

I’m one of them. Maybe you are too.