Moving to Another Country at a Young Age: My Experience

When I was twelve years old, my father received a special job offer to work overseas. This was a dream that my parents had always hoped for, and so they made the life-changing decision to leave behind life as we knew it in sunny San Diego, California and relocate to the old, charming city of Strasbourg, France. As imagined, this was an event that forever changed my life in more ways than one. But what I didn't expect was that this experience could impact me in more profound ways.

The Strasbourg Cathedral (above)

Of course, when my brother and I first learned of this move, we were caught between a lot of negative emotions including rage, hate, sadness, despair, fear, shock, disbelief, and confusion. We had always known that a job offer like this was a possibility but I don't think either of us ever expected anything to come to fruition. As I write this now, I long for the times when we lived in such blissful denial and innocence. It didn't help our situation that the move was to happen in just three months. Those months flew by in a whirlwind of packing, crying, goodbye parties, shouting matches, last visits with friends, and more crying. At last in the end of August, we boarded an airplane and began the newest chapter in our lives.

I don't know about my brother, but I had always held bitterness and resentment towards my parents due to the move. After all, it was their fault that we were leaving behind everything we had ever known and loved just so they could have their "dream adventure". The first year was the worst, as my parents and I argued and argued and I fell deeper into depression. France was very different, as was to be expected, but my brother and I were in no way prepared for the school system.

We started a private school in September and immediately made this discovery: French school systems are old-fashioned. We struggled through the first year between learning French, trying to make friends, and for me, trying desperately to keep my perfect grades from slipping to no avail. In California, I was what is known as a "teacher's pet". I was the girl who asked for extra credit, tattled on kids who broke the rules or behaved badly and freaked out if I got anything below an A+ or a 100%. Take that kid and put her somewhere where almost all of the classes are in a foreign language and you get a full-on BREAKDOWN. I had mini panic attacks anytime a teacher called on me in a French class and I cried every time I got what's considered an "average" grade for normal French kids. For the first time in my life, I was failing. I was failing, and no matter what I did, I couldn't be the best. This was one of the hardest lessons that moving to France taught me and that first year of school was one of the hardest times of my life, but I am so happy it happened. Of course, it was no picnic, but as my mom put it, it was better to learn to cope and grow from this now than ten years down the road in college. Now, I still try my best and work hard in school, but I'm okay if I don't have the best grade in the class. After all, I'm working with students who's native language is French and I'm still getting above the class average. The phrase "learning from your mistakes", means a whole lot more to me now.

Unfortunately, this was not where the school struggles ended. These past two years, I've encountered teachers who expect me to speak French since I live in France, teachers who did not adapt their curriculum (as they should) to fit the needs of foreign language learners like me, teachers who just plain ignored me, and teachers who embarrassed me in front of my classmates. Yeah, the French education system is just a barrel of laughs for foreigners like me. Sadly, it doesn't end there. I know. On the flip side, there was the whole social situation to deal with. When we enrolled, the "principal" of sorts suggested that I be placed a grade below because the French support was better for that grade. Otherwise, I would have been on a computer all day. Sure enough, my parents took her advice and I repeated the sixth grade. I spent the next two years reassuring people that I was supposed to be in the grade above whenever I was asked about my age or grade. As you have probably guessed, the age gap, as small as it was, caused significant social problems.

I won't go into all the details of the petty girl drama, mental breakdowns, anxiety, and loneliness those two years brought due to the social scene alone. Of course, I did make some very nice friends that helped me with the change, but I also lost some friends as well. It was not until this year that we finally decided to move me back up into what will soon be my freshman year (although in France it is still considered middle school). So as far as the school scene goes, I don't have many good things to say. That being said, I think it is a fantastic school...for native French speakers. Foreigners...not so much.

Now that I think back on it, school was (and still is) the main hurdle of moving to a new country (especially France). It's where you have to make your friends, get your education, and spend most of your time. There were some other issues to work out, like all the arguing with my family. The first year (and part of the second) I was just so angry at my parents, and I felt justified (because I was). I had been taken away from everything I loved and a lot of my dreams just so that my parents could pursue theirs. And I was suffering because of it! These were my last years of being young and being a teenager and I wasn't going to get to experience important things that I had always looked forward to! I felt robbed and angry and sad. Of course, this was normal, but what wan't normal was how long this lasted. I was told that after the first year, I would adjust, I would have friends, speak the language better, and fit in. Well that, my friends, is a big fat lie. Even now, after two years I don't feel better and I don't have or feel a lot of those things. I still long to go home, and COVID hasn't made that situation any better. I still fight with my parents, but I'm no longer angry with them. Yes, it is still their fault I am here and suffering, but I try not to be bitter about it. I can't change the decision that's been made and there's no use getting angry. I'm more numb and sometimes sad. The thing that moves me forward is just focusing on the future and everything I have ahead of me instead of what's behind me.

So people always ask me, "If it was up to you and you could change the past, would you make it so you had never moved to France?" and my answer is no. *insert gasps from the audience here*. As much as I want to say yes and get to live that reality, the fact is that I can't, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I've come to realize now that as hard as this move is and has been, I've learned too many valuable lessons and had too many important experiences. Who knows what might have happened to me in college had I not learned now how to fail? In fact, even now I'm more likely to get into the school of my dreams because I lived in France and had this opportunity and exposure. I'm so lucky to have received this gift of suffering, mistakes, and failure (and no, that's not sarcastic). Plus...croissants...

A French breakfast I enjoyed at Cafe Broglie in Place Broglie, Strasbourg

So anyway, that is just my brief recap and takeaway so far from moving to another country. I hope it interested you in some way or gave you some insight or just plain entertained you. Thank you for reading and don't hesitate to contact me if you have something to share! I will always update with a new article once a week and sometimes twice if I have time! Thank you and have a lovely day!

Lorelei xx