What's it like being an international school teacher's kid?

I (Aiko) was born in Japan to a Japanese mother and a Filipino father, both international educators, who instilled in me a love for learning and exploration. Yet, with each new city and school I attended, I faced the unique reality of being both “one of the students” and also “the teacher’s kid.” 

My (Sahana's) parents, a white settler Canadian mother and British-Indian father, chose to work as educators overseas where they met in Singapore and started a family, ending up with five children. I also lived in Qatar and China before finishing high school.

Growing up attending international schools where our parents worked, the label of being “a teacher’s kid” added a complexity to our school lives. This is a label we both had to face with each school change but with the added complexity of the cultural changes around us too. 

Over the course of their careers, my (Sahana's) parents held roles in both primary and secondary schools that I attended, with a variety of responsibilities in teaching, counselling and administration. Having a parent, or both, working at the school you are attending can lead to the lines between home and school life becoming blurred. Hanging out in my mum’s office after school activities or while waiting for a ride home meant additional time we spent together several times a week. It would also put me in contact with other teachers, students from different age groups, and even parents that placed me within the broader community due to my familial ties.

My (Aiko's) teachers were my father's colleagues, people who knew him well. I quickly learned that my actions — big or small — seemed to carry extra weight. There was an unspoken expectation that I would embody the same commitment to academics my father valued. I couldn’t simply be a student; I had to be a model student, almost an extension of my father’s professional reputation. It was like an unspoken contract between me, the teachers, and my dad — one that said I had to do well, not just for my own sake but for his.

When your parents and family members are known within the community it creates additional pressure on you to act as a role model for other students, exemplifying not only the ideals of education that your parents have committed to, but also a level of professionalism to represent your school favourably.

I (Aiko) felt pressure to excel in both academics and behavior. Forgetting a homework assignment or doing poorly on a test wasn’t simply a mark on my report card: it was a topic of conversation when teachers met, where my father would inevitably hear about it. Knowing my mistakes could become the subject of adult conversations was something I carried with me each day. I remember wanting to 'slip under the radar' just once, to see if I could break free of the expectations that surrounded me. Of course, the reality was that in such a close-knit environment, everyone would know if I stepped out of line. I wanted to do well, to meet their expectations and make my father proud. Yet, sometimes it felt like my identity was defined more by my father’s role than by who I truly was. I was known as “Mr. C's daughter” rather than simply “Aiko”. 

I (Sahana) also got more attention from teachers due to my parents’ role. Even after I was no longer a student at the schools where my parents still worked, teachers I had never met before would be eager to talk to me, as my parents seemingly sharing updates about their children to anyone who would listen. Despite the teenage annoyance at having my business be shared, at the same time, it was a way for other adults to present as role models and mentors when there was no family or family friends around to fill that gap. 

When I (Sahana) look back, I see there was a lot of joy in being able to share experiences with my parents and siblings. Growing up without frequent access to extended family, my immediate family was and continues to be an invaluable source of support throughout life’s transitions. When your parents are educators, you get to spend a lot of time together as a family. As my parents had shorter working days and the same holidays, we were able to do a lot together including cooking meals, playing board games, and roller skating around our compound. Despite travelling around the world and constantly expanding my horizons, the sense of safety and stability that came from having dinner together daily created a sense of stability and safety that helped mitigate the stress of life abroad.

As I (Aiko) have met other Third Culture Kids, especially those with international educator parents, I’ve realized how much we share. We all learned early on about the nuances of navigating adult expectations and youthful desires, of representing our families while trying to establish our own identities. In time, I grew to understand that being a TCK, and specifically a teacher’s child, meant finding my own place amid a world that knew me differently than I saw myself. I learned resilience in managing my own expectations and balancing the pride and pressure of being connected to my father. Looking back, I can appreciate both the freedom and the boundaries that came with being a TCK with educator parents. My journey from Japan to the U.S. to China was marked by evolving identities and roles. I wasn’t simply a student or the teacher’s kid; I was a blend of cultures, expectations, and family ties that made me uniquely me.

For anyone who has grown up in the shadow of an educator parent, our stories may feel familiar. It’s a journey shaped by evolving identities and the drive to continue the legacy our parents began—fostering growth, understanding, and guidance in young students just as we were fortunate enough to experience.