When meeting new people, I’m sometimes asked “Where are you from?” My answer is often long and rambly or I just fib and say “Detroit.” The fact that I still struggle to answer this reminds me of my unusual childhood. Born abroad of American parents, my brothers and I lived on four continents before the age of 12. We spoke three languages, moved 11 times, and attended six different schools. We acquired an unusual accent that no one can identify.
I recently learned that there is a term for us – Third Culture Kids – defined as “children who move between cultures before they have had the opportunity to fully develop their personal and cultural identity.” We were raised in countries other than our parents’ home country and while we felt some attachment to all the cultures we came across, we didn’t claim ownership of any.
We followed our parents around the world as their jobs took them from one continent to another. We’d often be told “Pack your bags kids, we’re moving!” at a few weeks’ notice, and in what seemed the blink of an eye, everything would change. Our furniture and toys and clothes were packed in boxes and loaded into a huge shipping crate. We said our goodbyes to classmates and teachers and neighbors, promising to write.
As we settled into our new country, we never really questioned why our life changed so drastically – we just adjusted. New country, new home, new language, new school, new friends. Sometimes we repeated schoolwork that was taught in an earlier grade in the previous country, or sometimes we skipped a subject altogether. I missed out on division and the eight parts of speech but got multiplication and geography twice over.
While I lost a more traditional childhood bouncing from one country to another, often feeling that I didn’t belong, leaving friends and relatives behind, and developing a deep-rooted desire for stability and a home base; I’ve gained so much from my childhood experiences which made me more understanding and open minded, kind hearted and accepting. I’ve remained close to my brothers who were my only constant companions throughout my childhood. I have a wealth of memories scattered across continents and my life and home hold the imprints of multiple cultures. Lost and gained worlds.
This was so interesting to read Susan. And I appreciate all the comments of those who have replied. My experience had a lot of similarities; my parents met in a country that was not either’s country of origin. I was born there (Venezuela) and so my first language was Spanish. But when they brought me to Canada, they wouldn’t speak to me in Spanish since they wanted me to learn English, and yet I was surrounded by their cultures and languages of origin (Hungarian and Polish). It was a very ‘colourful’ environment. I have always been very proud to be a Canadian, and believe this to be one of the best countries in the world. And yet, digging deeper, I have always had a feeling of disconnect, and identity issues. It’s complicated to be at peace with an identity when it is compiled of so many fragments.
Thank you for sharing your story Susan,
Best,
Daniela
That is fascinating! And I like your take on “lost worlds.” They were both lost and found for you.
Yes, exactly. But mostly I think found. It was a terrific childhood!
I worked in international schools in both Indonesia and Morocco…with a lot of third culture kids. There is a lot of literature now, about them. My personal feeling is that there is a huge world out there to enjoy, and being in different cultures only makes one appreciate it all the more!
I’ve always wanted to come across other people who attended or taught at the international school in Morocco. My favorite teacher ever was 4th grade in Rabat. I agree that there is a huge world out there and I am so thankful to have learned that as a child!
That sounds exotic to me. I lived within 10 miles of where I was born for 40 years. Then I moved 30 miles away! Now I’m 1100 miles from home, and I still think of it with longing.
The grass is always greener!
As I read and deleved with great interest into your family the story here, Susan, I think of the many stages that a young child would go through during these ‘moving’ experiences. You have shared a beautiful adventure, and we each benefit from your tavels, knowledge of the ever changing world around you and the beautiful inspiration a life well lived has brought to us in your art!
What adventures you had! We did the same thing to our kids, but on a much smaller scale (3 countries, 3 continents, 2 languages). I didn’t know there is a term for such kids, that’s interesting!
I’d love to meet them – even though there is a huge age difference, I bet we could relate!!
Wonderful story, Susan. I moved a lot, too, but with my parents and the US Air Force. While the culture was ostensibly the same, I think the biggest culture shock was moving from Texas to California in early 1971. Much different than moving from California to West Germany.
Thanks Deb. So true about moving state to state. Big cultural differences there too.