Confessions about expatriating with children, that no one ever talks about
After sixteen years together, including thirteen years of marriage, living in three continents and having as many children, it is safe to state with certainty that Johan and I are very different people.
It isn’t often that we see the same situation thru the same eyes
This is something that is the source of both massive frustration and enduring attraction.
But, there are two things that we will always, unequivocally agree on
Firstly and most importantly, Johan and I will always come to agreement on any major life decision. We have our own, individual methods of coming to that decision, but we have never disagreed to date.
So, finding ourselves and our three children in Tokyo as expats did not come as a shock or disruption to our lives. We both seized the opportunity and saw only positive outcomes.
Of course there were a boatload of considerations to be made. Neither one of us jump into serious situations without a strong and thorough thought process. But, both Johan and I are adventurous, unafraid and up-for-it people.
And then we realised that our children, at this point in their young lives, are totally opposite to us
We have been in Tokyo now for six months. Johan is working non-stop in his assignment, enjoying the challenge and delightfully exhausted by the newness. He has taken to his new position with a positive outlook and a fierce desire to succeed.
I have thrown myself into photography, writing, learning some Japanese and running the annual fundraiser at school. I am finding my way through the web of every-day necessities that make your life easy, once you understand how they all work. I am, perhaps, the most “awake” that I have ever been in my life. It is not always straightforward or stress-free, but it is good.
But, perhaps the children have faced the biggest changes of all
They’ve been plucked from their safety zone, their protected, sweet, bucolic reality in the outskirts of Zürich and plonked into the foreign, booming metropolis of central Tokyo.
Our children were used to walking to school in the mornings and coming home each day for lunch.
At the end of the school day, (all except for Wednesdays, because no one has school Wednesday afternoons) they would come home, drop their bags and call out to me, “Mommy, I will be outside on my bike. Please yell when dinner is ready!”.
They climbed trees and played with the garden hose. They raked leaves and jumped in the piles, they pitched a tent in the back garden and they sold lemonade on the street. They planted a vegetable patch in the front of the house. They were always with a ball, a bike or a friend in tow.
City life is different
In Tokyo they carry mobile phones, they flag taxis, they have metro cards, eat more fish and tofu (with chopsticks!) and only kick a ball when in a park.
But it is not just that, the obvious differences between city and suburb or Asia to Europe. There are real and vast deviations that our children have to navigate.
For example, in the Swiss public school, they greeted their teachers each morning with a handshake, a good look directly in the eyes and a clear, “Guten Morgen, Frau Baltensperger". Here, in an international school, they walk in the classroom and give a casual, “Hi Joey!”.
But the differences at school don’t begin or end there:
Their mother tongue might be English, but their academic language was German in Switzerland. Differences in learning language (even in maths!) make life tricky.
Their school lunch is delivered from a nearby deli and eaten in their classrooms, instead of at home each day.
In Tokyo they get picked up by a school bus, a change from walking on foot with their mates.
Our children had very few choices before. School was clear-cut, social life was based on community and neighbourhood and weekends generally dictated by our proximity to the mountains and the fact that we have a holiday home there.
Now, their school practices an International Baccalaureate Programme and the studies are inquiry based. The sky is the limit for learning and the children choose. Their friends are from so many different nationalities I have lost count. They go to play dates at embassies, play several sports, are active in tons of school clubs and are learning things that I probably only learned in my twenties.
For them life is EXHILARATING and, at the same time, unsettling
If you ask them what are the biggest differences between their lives then and now, the answers are strangely profound for youngsters. They can pinpoint differences with little emotion and a strangely mature understanding of the opportunity they have. They appreciate life in Tokyo and they have affectionately embraced its challenges.
their biggest happiness in Japan is that the five of us are much more a "family" than we were in Switzerland
And, they are right, expatriating can make the family bond tighter and stronger. Something that they pointed out to me...
If you ask them what they miss, you are once again speaking to a child. They miss their bedrooms, the garden, their friends. The "field". The "big tree".
It is sometimes challenging to navigate the ebb and flow of settling in and to know when tough love rules or when hugs and looking thru old photo albums is the only medicine.
I think that the biggest learning and most eye opening experience for us as parents is the fact that our children are individuals. Based on their own realities and experiences, they don’t automatically see the world thru our eyes.
what this means for each of us is personal and individual, even for the children
It is early days, here in Japan. With each passing week, we change and we adapt and we open.
And, as we’ve learned, the children will eventually form their own opinions, create their own experiences and take home with them their own recollection of:
