Growing Up Abroad (How to Actually Do It)

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Isabel Bleach, multimedia magazine journalist, shares snippets of her experience living and teaching in Germany.

Twitter handle: @izziblea
Published by the team at Culture Smart! @culturesmart

Moving abroad isn’t just something you decide to do on a whim.  It’s something you think about from a plethora of angles, in a myriad of scenarios. It’s definitely not a holiday – it’s so much more.

Leaving behind all that I knew at the tender age of 20, I knew that, when I stepped off the plane in Köln, Germany, the new chapter I was embarking on was one that would either make or break me. One that would open my eyes to the real world outside of the ‘uni bubble’ that so many young millennials become trapped in.

With older eyes I can confirm that this move was what made me grow up, and fast. To quote my younger self while the change was still raw:

“I have to admit, my first few days at the Gymnasium were rather terrifying, not only being mistaken for a student on numerous occasions, but also for the fact that everything was indeed, auf Deutsch. By now you would expect the headaches and tiredness to have dissipated somewhat, however, they have not, and I expect this will unfortunately continue for a little while at least.”

By no means is this the process of adjustment to the cultural inversion a momentary blip. When living and teaching in Detmold, North Rhine-Westphalia, I found it took me a little over three months to finally be able to (confidently) follow, engage with and respond to conversation with an ounce of articulate hochdeutsch flair.

If there’s one nugget of advice I would impart to those considering living and working abroad, I would say this: even if it is just the most commonly spoken idioms and phrases that are discussed in your destination country, every effort you make to show that you are accepting and respectful of the culture will help you tenfold if it is acceptance and respect that you are after in return. And that means going beyond a timid ‘Merci’ or ‘Guten Tag’ muffled under your breath as quietly as possible.

Being able to speak the mother tongue of my new home was something that mono-lingual visitors and employees found the most isolating, putting their own culture, and perhaps even unintentional aversion, between themselves and fully engaging with the culture and overall mentality of German life. I am not saying you must be able to speak the language fluently before arriving, but knowing a handful of words or phrases will be the difference between a friendly (and sometimes impressed) smile from your taxi driver, and the condescending Pidgin English that you get in response. Trust me, it’s the most humiliating thing to hear when you’re more than capable (and willing) to speak their language.

Teaching abroad is a whole other ball game. Besides constantly being mistaken for a pupil, I have found it is probably one of the most rewarding occupations that exist. That moment when your students’ eyes light up and begin to register the elephant that has been standing in the classroom the whole lesson (figuratively, of course) is reaching on ecstatic. Despite my qualms as a previous shrinking violet, standing up in front of a class of young, excited (okay, sometimes they were less enthusiastic to be at school) eyes is actually the best way to feel you’ve made a positive difference to the youth of your new home, and in turn prove your worth to the locals who raise an eyebrow when you try to pay with card at the checkout in Lidl. You’re making the effort.

It is important not to let this sudden breakthrough with pupils go to your head. While finally losing the perplexed wall of faces that once bore into your very core is amazing, forming a strong rapport is even better. Unfortunately, as with so many young teachers making the move abroad to places like Detmold (big up Gymnasium Leopoldinum), forming a professional relationship with pupils is decidedly difficult when you’re a little over 12 months older than some of those you teach. This is where the challenge lies. If you, like me, are bestowed with the (sometimes down-right inconvenient) gift of youthful looks, this is a tricky one. Other than undermining your gossiping students by replying to their unfriendly comments in German (that showed them!), I can only prescribe high doses of perseverance and a well-practised air of confidence.

To confirm that the initial blips will dissipate is my younger self again:

“Something that I’d never thought I’d be looking forward to on my YA was standing up in front of a class to address/take a lesson. The thought of being the centre of attention amongst a small group of people, let alone a sea of youthful (and slightly judgemental) eyes, was something that daunted me before moving to Germany. However, now that I feel my authority has registered amongst my pupils, my confidence is definitely building. As it happened, taking a class of 30 nine year old children for a two hour English lesson last week was one of the most enjoyable double periods of my teaching career so far, and was something that I never realised would feel so rewarding. Aside from the realisation that my English accent resembles that of a quintessential Englishman, and hearing them repeat with their over-exaggerated vowels ‘tomaaaaahtoes’, things at school are going really well.”

Other than having material to regurgitate here in this post, keeping a blog was something that without a doubt kept me sane from the whirlwind of teaching and living away from home. Even if my entries were initially a little elementary in their running commentary of my travels, it was a great place to incorporate my thoughts and feelings about the experience as a whole, and it helped me to process why I was there in the first place, if things were all getting a little too much. By all means publish your posts on social media, hell, induce FOMO on your Facebook friends if you really want. But it’s not so much for others as it is for yourself. It’s okay if your blog becomes a diary, and one that only you can read and re-read, eventually. It’s perfectly fine if you’re not the world’s next Caitlin Moran when it comes to your wry comments or comical anecdotes. You’ll find that writing in itself will train your thoughts and help you make sense of all that seems to be happening so quickly around you. And who knows? The process of writing may become more than just a cathartic one, it could even become remotely enjoyable.

So go on, challenge yourself the next time you find yourself living away from the familiar.

You do you. And you’ll be amazed at what you will achieve.

Culture Smart! Germany is available to order from our shop here.


Author: Barry Tomalin
ISBN: 9781857337112
Format: Paperback
Page count: 168
Dimensions: 171 x 108 x 13mm
Published at: £6.95 / $9.95 / CAN $12.95

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