One day, you decide you want to learn how to play a new instrument. You go to a music store, buy the thing, bring it home and get started on a music-theory curriculum. You're pretty tech-savvy, so instead of the traditional 'learning notes from a textbook' or 'attending a class', you are aware that resources like youtube, online programs, and forums exists. While the rest of the world wastes their time in Berkley, you're ahead of the curve. Once you finish this theory class, you're gonna be unstoppable.
If you play an instrument, the above paragraph will garner an immediate feeling of alienation - of course that's not what you did! You brought the instrument home, and you tried to play it. You felt it in your hands and re-enacted what you've seen musicians do on TV. Sure, you opened up a youtube video and searched 'introduction to instrument-X, how to play song-Y in 10 minutes!', but ultimately, what you wanted to do, what you bought the instrument for, was to play music and that's exactly what you set out to do. What does this have to do with learning Arabic?
In the (practicing) Muslim community, every (non-Arabic speaking) Ahmed and Aisha want to 'eventually learn Arabic'. I am one of them. It's on our list-of-things-to-accomplish. It's a goal that sits there, promising exponentially growing profits. To stand in prayer and literally know what is being recited is - in gaming terms - a cheat-code, a hack. We fight hard every day in Ramadan to pray night prayers without recessing into our imaginations - if we could actually understand what's being said?.. Well, now that would be a game changer. Point being, our desire to learn classical Arabic is specifically for a certain endpoint: to read the Quran without translation.