There he stands, my son, on the brink of a new chapter as he awaits the bus on a beautiful morning in Vermont. His face is illuminated with a bright smile, radiating confidence, unbothered by the nerves that often accompany such transitions. As he prepares to enter middle school, he seems entirely at ease, despite the fact that he is stepping into an unfamiliar environment without any friends by his side.
What contributed to his remarkable composure? A year spent living in the Middle East.
In 2014, my son Ethan and I found ourselves rushing to his first day at the American International School of Abu Dhabi (AISA). The sweltering heat outside reached 120 degrees as we navigated through the bustling streets. Ethan sat quietly in the back of the taxi, contemplating the day ahead, which would see him entering a vast private school with students hailing from over 80 different countries.
As we approached the school gates, I applied sunscreen to protect him from the relentless sun, but I knew that once he entered, he would have to navigate social dynamics on his own. Would he encounter an environment filled with mutual understanding, or would it mirror the regional tensions?
The reality was a blend of both. On his second day, Ethan faced a challenging situation when a classmate from Egypt threatened him for being American. This incident was pivotal; it highlighted for him the importance of being approachable and friendly to counteract stereotypes. In a selfless act, he requested that the school not penalize the boy who threatened him.
By late September, we had settled into an apartment on Al Reem Island, and I began my new role in communications at Khalifa University. Ethan’s morning bus ride began at 6:25 a.m., and our routine involved waiting together in front of the Boutik Mall. As I watched the other children board buses destined for schools with names like the British International School and the Canadian School, I waved as Ethan boarded a bus that simply read “No. 7.” It wasn’t until later that I realized it did not display the name of his school.
Shortly after, I received alarming news from the U.S. Embassy regarding threats to American and international schools in the region. My husband, a director at the New York Film Academy in Abu Dhabi, and I deliberated our options. Although returning home would provide safety, we knew that staying would allow us to foster connections and understand a diverse culture. We chose to remain.
Tragically, on December 1, an American teacher was murdered at the very mall where Ethan and I waited for his bus. The entire city, regardless of background, was shocked. Despite the horror, I continued to send Ethan on bus No. 7, trusting in the community’s resilience.
When Ethan turned 11 in the spring of 2015, his birthday party included children from various countries, including a friend from Syria. This experience prompted me to reflect on the challenges many faced to find safety.
As we completed the school year, one reassuring constant was Sharif, our hired driver, who ensured Ethan’s safe transport. On June 12, as we departed Abu Dhabi, Ethan eagerly read Arabic signs during our final drive through the city. It was only when he stepped onto bus No. 21 for his American middle school in Vermont that I felt certain our year in the Middle East had equipped him with invaluable life skills.
In summary, the time spent in a diverse and challenging environment prepared my son for the complexities of middle school and instilled confidence that will serve him well in the future. For those interested in similar journeys, consider exploring resources on home insemination, such as this post, or check out Cryobaby’s home insemination kits for further guidance. For general pregnancy insights, March of Dimes is an excellent resource.
Keyphrase: Middle East preparation for middle school
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