Thanks, Brice, for the greetings, song, and great pictures…wish I could meet you all in person.
It’s been a busy year working on an update of the TCK book, trying to include references to the great work Brice and all of you are doing here, adding a chapter on CCKs. That should be available through amazon.com in September if you are interested.
Having said that, however, I am also sure that we are entering a new phase of this “movement”…where we continue to think about how we can keep growing in our understanding of not only our own stories, but how lessons learned about growing up among many cultural worlds can be applied to understanding many new dynamics going on all around us as the world continues to globalize. Brice and all of you on TCKid.com are such a big and wonderful part of making that happen. Thank you all!
Something I wrote for a Global Nomad seminar some years ago that I believe more now than ever for all of us:
“We are players on the field, not spectators in the stands. We have much to give even as we have much to learn.”
Never forget that there is also always more to learn…from TCKs/CCKs and non-TCKs/CCKs alike. The more fully we engage with life and using the gifts we have been given through the circumstances of our lives, the more we can also open ourselves up to learn from those with different stories as well. I have had a most blessed journey these past 64 years and I am profoundly grateful for each experience and day of it, even the tougher ones. They may be where we learn the most.
Thanks again! May your journeys be filled with wonder as well as you see how the pieces of your life also form a cohesive whole in the end…That’s why it’s nice to live a long time…you get to see that!
hugs to all, Ruth

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So I spent last weekend visiting Houston. I haven’t been there for, oh, 4 years. The last time I was there was the summer between my two years in Michigan; about a year before I left to Switzerland. A lot has changed in my life… and not that much has changed there.

It’s worth noting that in the time since I was last in Houston… I learned an entire language. I find that amazing. When I left Michigan I was 20, and barely knew a word of German. Coming back 3-4 years later, I’m somewhere around proficient.

Early on, I feel I often lamented some of the lifestyle there as exactly the kind of thing I was looking to avoid. They seemed too localized, and self-restrained to stay in Texas for the remainder of their lives. It was exactly what I didn’t want to be: stuck here for the rest of my life.

But going back reminded me of a lot. it’s amazing how travel reminds you to be human. If you stay in one place too long, you get too involved in it. For me right now, I work, more or less full time. There isn’t much else in Florida right now that occupies me, so it’s easy to get caught up in work… as the primary focus of my day to day life.

But travel, even to somewhere like Houston where my memories aren’t entirely positive, wakes you up. It reminds you that you’re human, with more to your life than just going to work and doing a job each day. Come to think of it, I wonder if that’s not a reason that Americans aren’t more open. Holidays are comparatively limited here, and free time is a luxury that many don’t partake in. It’s pretty common to work 2-3 jobs all at once, and have just enough time off to sleep. If you can’t remind yourself to be human, you get caught up in the race.

And that’s what I wonder about my cousins. 2 out of 3 have a hard time even imagining leaving Texas. They’ve never taken the time to really consider it. And the eldest is now graduating, and is probably set in place for a good long time.

The funny thing is that, to some extent, they still look up to my life. I was the one who visited every year or two as they grew up, with stories from a long way away. As we became teenagers, I talked about what was trendy out in the world, the nightlife, the music, the clubbing. the adventures (such as they were) with the opposite sex. They lived in Texas suburbia, unimaginable distance from the wild urban life I was leading. And… our lives have continued down this trend. 4 years later, they still look up to my life somewhat.

I find this ironic considering my social life took a nose dive since moving here to Florida, but it’s still more established and adventurous than theirs. Before, I didn’t want much to do with them because they were so… “mono”, I suppose the term is. But now, I want to bring them to Europe, or Asia, and open their eyes.

Yes this is very rambly, and doesn’t have much point. But it’s a blog post, so I will let it be.

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Here’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now: How to connect to your Third Culture Adult mother, as a TCK. Here’s some background on her first:

She was born in Iran and moved to Bolivia at the age of 18. There she met my dad who comes from Germany and was studying medicine in La Paz. They got married, had my two older brothers and after ten years moved to Germany together where I was born. My parents divorced when I was 7 and I decided to stay with my mother. We moved cities etc every couple of months until I was 11 years old. After she hadn’t seen her family for 25 years, apart from occasional short visits, (they all lived in Australia by now) we decided to apply to move here. When I was 14 we moved to Australia and have been here for nearly five years.

She’s extremely unhappy in the place we live in because it is..VERY monocultural and… just kind of dead. But for “some reason” she’s too afraid to take risks and to move again. I’m constantly telling her to move overseas, or at least go somewhere else within Australia.. I guess it’s not that easy- but I can see how unhappy she is here and she thrives in travelling. It keeps her sane!

She is so culturally mixed that she obviously does not fit into any cultural box. I used to say she’s from South America- because she has her happiest memories there and after so many years, still dreams about the culture, the land, the people. She speaks Spanish, Persian, English and German fluently- but she speaks none of these well enough to express herself properly in any of them. I sometimes wonder how she dealt/ deals with it. She is an incredibly strong and independent woman but we’ve had some huge conflicts with the Persian family (because she’s just not very ‘Persian’). She’s always been isolated and it’s starting to visibly bother her here in Australia. When I look at my own struggles with language, experience, grief etc. I almost feel ridiculous next to her (compared to what she must have gone through). At least I have the means to express what I am going through with language! At least I have people to talk to about it! And at least I know reasons for why I feel this way etc. Frankly, I think my mother must have a huge multitude of repressed topics, issues, unresolved grief etc.- I just want her to start this Journey of uncovering these!

So I tried to bring up the topic a few times, and told her about TCK etc. But she just looked at it briefly and seemed to understand it on the surface but never asked more about it.

Also, it might sound odd, but our level of language is not the same, so communication is difficult- I learnt German and English thoroughly because, as a child, I was forced into the academic system. Whereas she can probably understand written stuff better, but verbally I can’t express particularly weighty topics to her! We usually speak in German, but my level of German is that of a 14 year old- Her level of English (in which I’m currently most comfortable in) is high-school and general English, and my level of Persian compared to hers is that of a 3 year old!

so: HOW CAN I MAKE CONTACT WITH MY OWN MOTHER?! It’s so weird. So peculiar. Almost funny..

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I’ve mentioned before that I’m currently working in Hospitality. It’s true, it’s not a bad industry for a TCK. Easy to travel, easy to meet people from a variety of countries, makes use of our linguistic and adaptable talents…

Another is international teaching. I’ve considered this for some time because there are negatives to Hospitality, but mostly because my interests tend elsewhere. There’s an idealism to diving into a new culture to teach English to thos willing to travel that’s just… engaging. Hospitality, for all its fancy concepts about customer service and satisfaction, still greatly exercises the fact that it is a business that sniffs a bit of arse for money.

So I have, somewhat often, thought of at least experimenting with the idea of English teaching. I think my English is good, I have people’s skills, and a decent personal understanding of different linguistic structures. Besidse, I like the idea of teaching, and I think it’s something I would be good at.

So why is it that NOW, after I leave Switzerland, I discover that I could have taken a certification course right there in Zurich? Well, that’s life. I didn’t investigate it properly for myself.

Regardless, I have the story of one TCK friend who spent a year in the US floundering around different jobs until he signed on for English teaching, got sent to Serbia (where he’d never been before) and has now been having a blast for the last 2-ish years. That’s a pretty attractive idea.

Frankly speaking, this is probably the easiest means to travel at a young age, post-bachelor’s. Otherwise travelling with a work permit requires experience and loyalty with a big MNC, to the point they consider you a worthy addition to some overseas subsidiary or branch. Which probably has its benefits as it’d be an expatriate lifestyle, but again, takes time.

Funny Quote from a hotel from this evening. My friend, colleague and roommate is Lebanese. One slightly drunk guest asked “Hey, where are you from?” He told her. And she said:

“Lebanon… That’s in Italy isn’t it? I love Italians! You know, I’m so happy I took geography so that I’d know that Lebanon is in Italy.”

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The diverse community that I longed for was evolving right before my eyes. What used to be a bicultural community is growing into a global society. See http://theinterculturalpost.blogspot.com for the complete post.

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People say that when you’re homeschooled it’s easy. You can study in your pajamas and you can wake up whenever you like. It’s actually kind of the opposite. My mom makes my schedule and I have to wake up at a certain time everyday. I’m sure some of you can relate to this. Last week I was sick when I had exams that day. I got through, thank God! That same night, I was reading my Bible before I went to sleep. I remebered the verse Phillipians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me.” I thanked God that He was with me always and I, Jirah, can do all things through Him who strengthens me.

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Hi all! I know it’s been forever and a day since I’ve made a post, but I’m curious as to what you guys think.

Alright, this requires some background info: My parents (and a very small Laura, heh) moved from Finland to Germany when I was 1 year old. Then we moved to the US where we’ve been for 19 years now, and now my dad works in China.*back to point*

So one day I was talking to my dad about what it’s like to be a TCK, since they’ve never heard the term before I used it, heh. I mentioned how hard it is for me to answer the *dreaded* “Where are you from?” question, and my dad said “Yeah, it’s hard for me too!”
“Why, Dad?”
“Because I’ve lived abroad for so long, it’s hard for me to answer it.”

This got me to thinking. I know the “official definition” of a TCK is someone who has spent a significant part of their developmental years outside of their parent’s culture, but what about those PARENTS? My mom may very well never return to Finland, even though that ’s where she grew up. My parents have lived outside of their parents’ culture, but it wasn’t during their developmental years.

Like I said, I’m curious to hear what you guys think. Can adults who have moved abroad during their adulthood become Third Culture Adults/Cross Culture Adults? (rather than ATCKs) Do you think it’s just as difficult for them as it is for us kids (some of us kids at heart, haha)?

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(Continued from Part 1) As I registered for graduate school, the diversity that UAB had attracted caught my attention. Students and scholars from around the world converged on a daily basis on the Southside alongside Blacks and Whites whose families had lived here for over a century. One of the most memorable moments was when students from Bombay, Japan, South Africa, and a few Middle Eastern countries asked if we could go to a soul food restaurant… See http://theinterculturalpost.blogspot.com for complete story.

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In the interim between college and career, I was looking for an escape from an infrequent lecture by Granddaddy. He asked, “Do you realize Atlanta and Charlotte had to start from somewhere–Use your talent to build Birmingham.” One of my cousins rescued me. She had read that Birmingham was hosting a music festival similar to Summerfest in Milwaukee. We were able to raise
$ 5.00 each for weekend passes to the first annual City Stages. It was surreal. I couldn’t remember another occasion in Birmingham where so many people of different races, creeds, colors and musical tastes were in the same two square blocks. How could I leave for the east coast with all this excitement in Birmingham? (For the entire post, visit http://theinterculturalpost.blogspot.com)

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I can’t remember his name. We just thought he was a fun playmate. A three legged dog entertained us as we began our new lives. It had been a long year. The military transferred us to St Louis. We purchased a house got new orders and had to move to California instead. My dad was to be stationed at the Presidio. We were disappointed; we were looking forward to living in our own house. The details in between seem a little fuzzy. I think my mom packed us up and sent us to Chicago while she packed up our apartment.

We moved into a hotel across the street from Hamilton Air Force Base in Novato, CA. We had moved in the middle of the school year. This is not odd for military families. We were prepared to move and serve at will. Although I am not sure how long we were living in the hotel, I don’t think we had planned to have a long term stay. We were waiting for our house on base. Even when the house was ready, the Teamsters were on strike. We ended up moving into an empty house with boxes for furniture.

The family that owned the hotel helped us to make a home away from home. Of course my brother’s creative mind also helped. We found a playmate. He was a dog that was missing a leg. I don’t remember his name, but he entertained us and helped us to prepare for our new home. I missed him when we finally moved into our home.

From: http://80salumna.wordpress.com/2009/04/15/the-three-legged-dog/

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