At just 19, I received a scholarship that allowed me to spend a year studying in Germany rather than my native United States.

Despite knowing only two words of the local language ("ja" and "nein"), I boarded a plane and quickly found myself in classes with only German students, trying to follow a sprightly, silver-haired teacher's lecture on Faust.

Although I couldn't understand the details, I noticed the instructor asked the class a lot of questions. Instead of responding with bored silence, students turned the hour into a discussion.

Each day, I watched more of the same as interactive dialogue took precedence over instruction. Although I felt — and probably looked lost — my classmates were eager to involve me, often leaning in to ask (in English) whether I understood the discussion.

When I whispered that no, I didn't have a clue what was happening, they were happy to fill me in on the Cliff Notes version every time.

Soon, I realized that my classmates were helping each other, too

This help went beyond class hours — it seemed those around me wanted to further my language and educational endeavors in any way they could.

Several people, including my German teacher (essentially an older, professorially dressed Mary Poppins) began tutoring me after school.

For the first few months of my move, I felt like I'd put my life and brain in a blender at high speed, but with their aid, I began to pick up the language.

One morning, a boy who lived down the block from my host parents approached me in the hall between classes. In German, he asked if I could look over his English paper and tell him what wasn't working.

His face held no embarrassment; he was hungry for critique. I pulled out a pencil and marked the pages with corrections right there. He walked away smiling. This became a pattern.

As friends and classmates helped me navigate language barriers and cultural faux pas with endless patience, I, in return, as a native English speaker, assisted them with editing essays, filling out job applications, and perfecting their pronunciation.

This behavior wasn't limited to me. Students approached the person with the best score on the latest physics exam and asked to review answers together. They compared class notes. They told the teacher when they didn't understand the geography lecture.

In short, they weren't afraid to ask for help — and it was seen as a privilege to both give and receive that assistance. The exchange was natural, mutually rewarding.

Back home, I realized I had learned a true skill

A year later, when I was back in America, taking college courses at a massive university, the valuable skills I'd learned in Germany came in handy once more.

When I realized I was going to fail my Intro to Logic class without tutoring, I didn't hesitate to email my professor. When he said tutoring wasn't available, I followed up by visiting his office hours to go over logical fallacies together. He seemed taken aback, but willing to offer extra help.

When I needed a part-time job with evening hours due to my class schedule and couldn't find anything that fit, I called on friends for opportunities. Eventually, one connected me with a serving job at the local Thai spot his girlfriend ran.

Some of this may seem basic, but it wasn't my norm before living abroad. I've learned to say, "I don't know. Can you explain it to me?" more often.

I have my German friends to thank for teaching me this mindset shift, which has served me both academically and professionally ever since.