What's it like being an international school student?

CARMEN DÖRWALD
This is part of a series of posts by TCK Training team members past and present, describing their different types of Third Culture Kid experiences.
In this post, current intern Carmen reflects on her experience attending international schools as a TCK.
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What's it like being an international school student?

I took one last look at my room, full of neatly stacked boxes of my belongings, and the memories I had created throughout my entire childhood in Beijing. I was closing this chapter of my life and preparing to return to Germany — the country where I was born, the country of my passport, the country that was supposedly my home.
Finally I could return and reconnect with my roots.
I was ready to leave.

I chose an international, English-speaking university.
It seemed perfect.
A place to surround myself with people from all over the world while still connecting with my German heritage.
Integration shouldn’t be too difficult... after all, I had been part of international communities my whole life. 
I stepped onto campus, excited to meet new people and make friends across different cultures.
Conversations began, and I quickly found myself in the same repetitive exchange.

I meet someone new.
They ask where I'm from.
I tell them I'm half German and half Cantonese.
They love my accent - "it's almost American."
I explain that I grew up in Beijing, not Germany.
They assume I speak fluent Mandarin Chinese and immediate introduce me to their friend from China.
I say: “Nǐ hǎo…wǒ de míngzì shì Carmen.” (Hello…my name is Carmen.)
They reply with an awkward grin. “We can speak in English…” 
Then comes the inevitable question: “Why didn’t you guys speak in Mandarin?”

I found myself wondering the same thing.
In Beijing, locals spoke to me in Mandarin without hesitation. Perhaps in Germany the confusion came from my ambiguous Eurasian features - my voice didn’t match how I looked. Or maybe it was the slight foreign accent to my Mandarin.

German friends were even more confused.
I lived in Beijing for 18 years, wouldn't I consider myself Chinese, and Mandarin be my first language? I would explain that I consider English my first language, and then would have to explain the slightly American accent - due to attending an international school. 
“An English school? In China?” a new German acquaintance responded, looking confused. 
At that moment, I hesitated.
Wasn’t that normal?

What is a 'normal' childhood?

As I met more people from different backgrounds, I began to realize how different my upbringing was. Although I was in an international university, I felt more like an outsider than ever. For the first time, I felt awkward about my background.

Many of my peers had grown up with completely different struggles. Some were working two or three jobs just to make ends meet. Others were under immense pressure to maintain their GPA to keep their scholarships. Some had responsibilities beyond themselves — paying for their education while also supporting their families.
I couldn’t relate.
I had never worried about tuition, about balancing work and studies, about financial survival.
I didn’t understand what it was like to have those pressures.

I had always been surrounded by people with similar lifestyles to my own.
For us growing up, it was normal to travel frequently. It was normal to fly business class. It was normal to stay in luxurious hotels. It was normal to go on class trips to places like Cambodia, Thailand, or Dubai. It was normal to live in a gated community where everyone spoke English and came from different countries, watching American TV channels.
It was normal to have ayis (Chinese term for housekeepers) at home taking care of the household, so taking on household responsibilities never crossed our mind. It was normal to have chauffeurs pick us up instead of taking public transport. It was normal to go to a top class hospital catering to foreigners, where care was provided in English. It was normal to go to the same hangout spots as other expat kids — areas full of high fashion, all the brand names, a wide variety of cuisines, and every luxury imaginable.
That was my normal.

But as I observed the realities of my peers, I realized that my normal wasn’t normal at all.

Learning about the 'expat bubble'

On my first visit home, I decided to have an open conversation with my mum. I asked her why I felt so different.
“I speak with a different accent. Unlike my peers, I don’t have to worry about working multiple jobs or maintaining a GPA to survive. I don’t get it.”
She looked at me, and calmly stated that our life in China was not normal. I was taken aback. Everyone I grew up with lived the same way.
“Do you know what an expat is?” she asked.
I did not.

“After you were born, your father was asked to relocate to China for work. His company needed someone with German and Mandarin skills to help expand operations. So, as a family, we left everything behind—our home, our friends, our familiar comforts—to move to a country we didn’t know. And that comes with sacrifices.
When companies relocate employees abroad, they offer ‘expat packages’ to compensate for the challenges of living in a foreign country, such as tuition, chauffeur services, nanny services, company housing, business-class travel, and access to exclusive hospitals.
In China, foreign citizens and locals are often separated, which is why your entire life—your school, your neighborhood, your hospital, even your church—was within the expat community.
You were physically in China, but you lived in a completely different world.”

And suddenly, it all made sense. I was a Third Culture Kid, a TCK. I was the daughter of expats. I was an international school kid. 

For so long, I had felt out of place, unaware that I had grown up in an 'expat bubble', which limited my exposure to the local culture and realities. I had also been sheltered from essential life skills.

I had assumed that attending an international university would be just like attending an international school. But my time there challenged my perception of diversity. It wasn’t just about different nationalities. It was about different religions, socio-economic backgrounds, and life experiences.

Understanding that I was a Third Culture Kid gave me clarity.
It also changed the way I saw my parents. For years, I had resented my father’s job — it always seemed to come first. His frequent business trips meant he was absent more often than I wanted. But now I understood that his work provided us with a privileged life — one free of financial concerns.
I also realized how my transient upbringing had shaped my relationships. The constant goodbyes left me emotionally guarded. I often found myself downplaying my background to fit in, afraid of being perceived as out of touch with reality.
 

Embracing both sides of my experience

Now I’m learning to embrace both the privileges and challenges of being a TCK.
I appreciate the cultural exposure and linguistic diversity, while acknowledging the instability and identity struggles that come with it. Being a TCK made me adaptable, resilient, and open-minded. Instead of hiding that part of myself, I’m learning to embrace this part of my identity.

I am learning to own my story and connect with others.

For those of you who also attended international schools and/or are TCKs, know that you are not alone. Experiencing reverse culture shock when living in your passport country is normal, and it's okay to feel both gratitude and loss at the same time. The good news is that there are practical tools and resources available to help you navigate these challenges and thrive.
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Here are some resources I recommend to others in the international school world:

 About the Author

Carmen Dörwald is an ATCK with parents from Germany and Hong Kong. She spent her childhood in China and has lived in three countries (and counting) as an adult. She is a Research intern at TCK Training and creator of the blog/podcast How Did You Find Out?