Today, my son Indrek was supposed to bring a candle and two hardboiled eggs to school for an art project. In his school planner, he had written “pikk küünal,” which means “long candle,” so I’d bought a long, white taper candle. When I double-checked his school’s messaging system this morning before school, however, the teacher had written that students should bring a “piklik küünal,” which, as far as I know, means “oblong candle.” Shit, I thought to myself. He’s got the wrong thing again. Based on my experience with Estonian schools this year, when the teacher requests something specific, the kids need that exact thing or Indrek will be the only one without it and he will be embarrassed.
Because we are living abroad, my kids have lots of inevitable small embarrassments during the day due to being international students and being out of linguistic and cultural step. Consequently, my husband and I are really conscious of making sure they have the “right” things with them when we can. The thing is, there are so many unarticulated things that cultural insiders just know and that no one thinks to tell you. For example, in the U.S. I would know what the “right” snacks are to send for the school Halloween party, or what the “right” way to dress for picture day is, or what’s the “right” way to go about setting up a playdate between Indrek and one of his friends. I don’t know these kinds of things here.
At almost twelve, Annika is old enough that her friends are pretty conscientious about filling her in on the protocol, and she is even more conscientious about asking, but seven-year-old boys aren’t so good at this kind of thing. I still haven’t heard the end of sending Indrek to school in a slapdash homemade Big Bad Wolf costume (a grey shirt, grey pants, and brown scarf threaded through a belt loop for a tail) on the day that they were supposed to dress up like a character from The Three Little Pigs, only to hear that the other kids had store-bought masks, luxuriously furry tails, and other wondrous costume creations.
Anyway, all of this means that I was determined that Indrek would have the right kind of candle for this art project today, come hell or high water. So on our morning walk to school, I took a route that took us by the only grocery store I knew for sure would be open at 7:30 AM. No oblong candles. I stopped by my parents’ currently unoccupied apartment, also on the way to school, and rifled through their cupboards. No oblong candles. We got to school just in time, only to realize that we’d left Indrek’s backpack in my parents’ apartment. We ran back to the apartment, retrieved the backpack, and arrived at the school about 10 minutes late. I caught the teacher in the hallway just as Indrek’s classmates were on their way to gym class.
“What time is the egg art project?” I asked (in Estonian), breathlessly and probably completely frantically.
“The period after next.”
“OK, good, because I think Indrek has the wrong kind of candle. I bought long candles, like it said in his planner, but your message said to get oblong candles. I can go and buy oblong candles. I can bring them to school before the project starts.”
“Oh, the candle shape doesn’t matter,” the teacher responded, airily. “We just need it for wax. Don’t worry about it. The eggs are the important part. Did he bring his eggs?”
“Oh yes, he has eggs,” I answered.
But on the way home, I wondered: did I accidentally say that “he has testicles” instead of “he has eggs”? In the midst of the morning confusion, did I accidentally pack the raw eggs instead of the boiled eggs?
Being a parent is hard. Being a parent of “the foreign kid” is a freaking minefield.
I am grateful to the father who, after soccer practice one time, told me to make sure to bring sandwiches to the Saturday tournament because it would last for at least four hours. I am grateful to the children who include my children in birthday party invitations. I am grateful to the parents who smile at me and respond to my awkward small talk. I am grateful to the kids who reach out, and who don’t call my kids “stupid” for not speaking their language. I am grateful to the teachers who make a point of telling me that my children are smart and that they are doing fine. I am grateful to parents who raise their children to be open-minded, and not to fear difference.
I will remember these things when I am home again.
Tags: living abroad, marika seigel, parenting, the butter
Thanks for this! I was the foreign kid abroad as a child, so it is interesting hearing about this from the parental end! It’s good to become fluent in the new culture but it is okay to own your differences, too– it’s not like you & your kids are ever going to get everything perfectly 100% “right”, and the world would be so much less interesting for everyone involved if you did.
P.S. Moving back the US was always so much harder than moving in the other direction, because kids in US schools are a lot less tolerant of cultural difference and are not curious at all about where you’ve been or why you’re like that, just wanting to you figure out how to be “normal” like them asap. I don’t know why. Maybe precisely *because* it is an immigrant country with a lot of differences to stamp out, so difference is more threatening? In any case that was definitely very powerfully my experience. Just a little warning word for when you do bring your children back for visits to the US. Hope you are loving Estonia!
I was also the foreign kid abroad (well, for a certain value thereof–I went to an international school that was still heavily American, so it wasn’t quite the same, I guess?), and I fiercely remember how difficult it was moving back to the US. I got branded as a snob pretty much on Day 1 of middle school, which was a blast.
That said, I also managed to convince people my dad was an international spy, so it wasn’t all bad.
Haha! I love it. I’ll have to pass that tip on to my kids.
Thanks for your comments, and for your reminder that it’s ok not to fit in. I have also experienced being the foreign kid, which is maybe why I am so obsessive sometimes about trying to smooth the road for my own children. I agree that re-entry will probably be rough. Although my kids miss home, they also have really enjoyed their experience in Estonian schools. My daughter especially enjoys the independence that kids have here, especially in comparison to the US–they aren’t locked into their school buildings all day, for instance, and can pretty much come and go as they please.
Marika!! I loved your story!!
Thank you so much for sharing, you and Matt are greatly missed at Tech, now that I graduated I can say that you both were my favorite professors! Thank you so much for everything, and please keep sharing stories like this! I know how it feel to be in a foreign land!!
Thank you so much, Estefania! Great to hear from you.
I enjoyed reading about your cross cultural child rearing experiences, just wish there was more to this essay- I think I’ll have to check out your blog!
Thank you! Yes, there’s definitely more on the blog.
This is so interesting! I was fortunate enough to have the chance to visit Estonia (specifically Tartu!) and loved it, but I’ve also done research on their language policies with regards to their dispossessed Russian population, which aren’t so kind, and did make me wonder what it’s like to be a foreigner there for more than a short vacation. (People were super nice to me in both English and Russian when I visited, though I approached using Russian to communicate very timidly and only with older folks.) Quite impressive that you and your family are speaking Estonian!
Thank you! How cool that you have visited Tartu. We really love living here; it’s such an artistically vibrant and beautiful town.
After 50 years of Soviet military occupation in Estonia, there’s certainly a lot of cultural and emotional damage yet to be repaired. That said, language policy has loosened recently, particularly in regards to citizenship. I have to say that our experience in Estonia has been overwhelmingly positive, and that people have been warm and welcoming overall. And while it’s always difficult to hear about instances of my kids’ being excluded or teased at school, I don’t think the situation here in that regard is really any different here than it would be anywhere else (in fact, they probably have it better than “foreign kids” in a lot of US schools).
This is so interesting! I was fortunate enough to have the chance to visit Estonia (specifically Tartu!) and loved it, but I've also done research on their language policies with regards to their dispossessed Russian population, which aren't so kind, and did make me wonder what it's like to be a foreigner there for more than a short vacation. (People were super nice to me in both English and Russian when I visited, though I approached using Russian to communicate very timidly and only with older folks.) Quite impressive that you and your family are speaking Estonian!
This was lovely! I could really identify.
Thank you!
I can only imagine the extra pressure, wanting to ensure your child fits in. I’m glad your children have found some friends and teachers who are welcoming and inclusive… it’s hard to be the ‘foreign kid’ but it makes a difference when you have people in your corner.
I can only imagine the extra pressure, wanting to ensure your child fits in. I'm glad your children have found some friends and teachers who are welcoming and inclusive… it's hard to be the 'foreign kid' but it makes a difference when you have people in your corner.
In New Zealand if you are asked to ‘bring a plate’ it means a contribution for shared food. I have a vivid memory of being 13 at a friend’s party and opening the door to a newly arrived American kid. In his hand was yellow plate. It was such a lesson. We all laughed of course. The baggage of mixed emotion is what I still feel. It was a valuable lesson. But on the other hand I remember that boy at the party. I can’t tell you who else was there. My kids are grown up but I recognise the agony of trying to achieve that ‘rightness’, even in our own culture let alone another’s. Yet often it’s the difference in others that we celebrate? I found great quip the other day ” You have to be odd to be number one”.