Third Culture Kids: Growing Up Among Worlds

by David C. Pollock

  Other transitions, however, are sudden and disruptive—such as the unexpected loss of a job, a serious injury, or the untimely death of a loved one. Life after these transitions is drastically different from what it was before. The abruptness of the change disorients us and we wonder, “What am I ever going to do?”

  The transition we choose to focus on here, however, is to see what happens when we physically move from one place to another. Obviously, that is particularly relevant to TCKs. We view it from the lens of those making the move, but we realize those left behind are also affected—and they don’t even have the excitement of a new adventure looming ahead. TCKs, of course, know what it is to be on all sides of the transition experience.

  First we’ll describe the common stages of transition and see how the TCK lifestyle may add complexity to that normal process. Then we will look at how all of this can lead to the unresolved grief we mentioned, and after that we will consider what lessons might apply to CCKs as well. Later chapters will include strategies for dealing successfully with transitions.

  The Transition Experience

  Coauthor David Pollock developed his classic model of the normal transition cycle in the early 1980s and noted the following five predictable stages:

  1. Involvement

  2. Leaving

  3. Transition

  4. Entering

  5. Reinvolvement

  Let’s take a look at the normal ways we process transitions.

  INVOLVEMENT STAGE

  Our Response

  We barely recognize this first stage of transition because life seems too normal to be a “stage.” We feel settled and comfortable, knowing where we belong and how we fit in. Under ideal circumstances, we recognize we are an intimate part of our community and are careful to follow its customs and abide by its traditions so that we can maintain our position as a valued member. We feel a responsibility to be involved in the issues that concern and interest our community, and we’re focused on the present and our immediate relationships rather than thinking primarily about the past or worrying about the future.

  Community’s Response

  Involvement is a comfortable stage for those around us as well. People hear our name and instantly picture our face and form. They know our reputation, history, talents, tastes, interests, and where we fit in the political and social network.

  LEAVING STAGE

  Our Response

  One day, life begins to change. We learn we will be leaving, and deep inside we begin to prepare. At first we may not realize what’s going on—especially if our departure date is more than six months away. With shorter warning, however, the mostly unconscious leaving process starts immediately. We begin loosening emotional ties, backing away from the relationships and responsibilities we have had. We call friends less frequently. We don’t start new projects at work. During the last year before graduation from high school or university, this leaning away is called “senioritis.”

  While it may be normal—and perhaps necessary—to begin detaching at some level during this stage, it is often confusing as well to both our friends and ourselves. This detachment can produce anger and frustration in relationships that have been close or in the way we handle our job responsibilities.

  During one transition seminar, Dave Pollock talked about this loosening of ties as part of the leaving stage. Soon he noticed a general buzz in the room. One gentleman sat off to the side, blushing rather profusely as others began to laugh. When Dave stopped to ask what was happening, the blushing gentleman said, “Well, I guess I better confess. I’m the manager here, and just yesterday those working under me asked to meet with me. They complained about my recent job performance and told me I don’t seem to care; I take far too much time off; I’m unavailable when they need me, and so on. As you’ve been talking, I just realized what’s been happening. Last month, my CEO told me I would be transferred to a new assignment, so mentally I’ve already checked out.”

  “That’s pretty normal,” Dave said rather sympathetically.

  “I know,” he replied. “The only problem is I’m not due to leave for two more years. Maybe I’d better check back in again!”

  We may not upset an entire office staff as this man did, but unless we consciously choose to maintain and enjoy relationships and roles as long as possible, at some point all of us will back away in one form or another. It’s part of the state of denial that comes during the leaving stage as we unconsciously try to make the leaving as painless as we can. Other forms of self-protective denials surface as well.

  Denial of feelings of sadness or grief. Instead of acknowledging sadness, we begin to think, “I don’t really like these people very much anyway. Susie takes way too much of my time with all her problems. I’ll be glad when I’m out of here and she can’t call me every day.” We can also deny our sadness at leaving by focusing only on what is anticipated. We talk about the wonderful things to do, eat, and see in the next location and seemingly make a mental leap over the process of getting there.

  One Canadian ATCK began to weep at this point in a transition seminar. Later he said, “Dave, I feel terrible. I grew up in a remote tribe in Papua New Guinea. When I left to return home for university, I could only think about how much I’d enjoy having Big Macs, TV, and electricity. I looked forward to new friends. When my PNG friends came to say good-bye, they started to cry, but I just walked away. Now all I can think about is them standing there as my little plane took off. They thought I didn’t care. I want to go back and hug them one last time. What should I do?”

  Of course, there was nothing wrong with this TCK developing a positive view of the coming move, but when he didn’t acknowledge the losses involved in the leaving, he had no way to deal with them. Denying our feelings may get us through an otherwise painful Moment, but the grief doesn’t go away, and we simply hold on to it into the next stage of transition.

  Denial of feelings of rejection. As friends plan for future events (e.g., next year’s school play or the annual neighborhood barbecue night), we suddenly realize they are talking around us. No one asks what we would like to do or what we think about the plans. We have become invisible. Of course, we understand. Why should they include us? We’ll be gone. In spite of what we know, however, we can still feel rejection and resentment. If we deny those feelings and push them aside as ridiculous and immature behavior (obviously we shouldn’t feel like this), then that underlying sense of rejection and resentment easily produces a seething anger, which results in almost unbelievable conflicts—especially with those who have been close friends and colleagues. Failing to acknowledge that we are beginning to feel like outsiders (and that it hurts) only increases the chances that we will act inappropriately during this stage.

  Denial of “unfinished business.” The closer we come to separation, the less likely we are to reconcile conflicts with others. We talk ourselves out of mending the relationship, unrealistically hoping that time and distance will heal it—or at least produce amnesia. Once more, the unfortunate reality is that we arrive at our next destination with this unfinished business clinging to us and influencing new relationships. Bitterness in one area of our lives almost always seeps out in another, and we sow the seeds of bitterness in others as well.

  Denial of expectations. To prevent disappointment or fear, we may deny anything we secretly hope for. “It doesn’t matter what kind of house I get; I can live anywhere.” We deny we would like people to give us a nice farewell. We presume that if we have no expectations, we can’t be disappointed. In reality, however, we all have expectations for every event in our lives. When they are too high, we’re disappointed. When they’re too low, we create fear, anxiety, or dread for ourselves.

  Community’s Response

  We may not consciously realize it, but as we’re loosening our ties to the community, it’s loosening its ties to us. Not only do people forget to ask our opinion about future events, they begin giving our jobs to others. TCKs discover that school admi
nistrators have already chosen their replacements as soccer team captain or editor of the coming yearbook. The same types of denials we use are being used by them. Suddenly our flaws as friends or coworkers seem glaringly obvious and they secretly wonder why they’ve maintained this relationship for so long in the first place.

  One thing, however, helps save the day for everyone. This is the time when communities also give us special attention. There are ceremonies of recognition—a watch presented for years of faithful service or a plaque given to say thanks for being part of a team. Graduation ceremonies remind us this school will never be the same without our shining presence. This special attention and recognition help us forget for a Moment that even though we are promising never to forget each other, already there is a distance developing between us and those we will soon leave behind.

  TRANSITION STAGE

  At the heart of the transition process is the transition stage itself. It begins the Moment we leave one place and ends when we not only arrive at our destination but make the decision, consciously or unconsciously, to settle in and become part of it. It’s a stage marked by one word—chaos! Schedules change, new people have new expectations, living involves new responsibilities, but we haven’t yet learned how everything is supposed to work. Norma McCaig, founder of Global Nomads, always said the transition stage is a time when families moving overseas become at least temporarily dysfunctional. This dysfunctionality doesn’t last (we hope), but it can be painfully discomfiting at the time.

  Our Response

  First, we and all family members making the move with us lose our normal moorings and support systems at this point. Suddenly we aren’t relinquishing roles and relationships—they’re gone! We’ve lost the comfort they gave but haven’t formed new ones yet. We’re not sure where we fit in or what we’re expected to do.

  Second, this sense of chaos makes us more self-centered than normal. We worry about our health, finances, relationships, and personal safety to a far greater degree than usual. Problems that aren’t generally a big deal are exaggerated. Headaches become brain tumors and sneezes become pneumonia. The loss of a favorite pen causes despair. We know we’ll never find it again because the usual places we would look for it are gone.

  Third, parents who are focusing on their own survival often forget to take time to read their children stories, stop to pick them up, or sit on the floor with them for a few minutes as they did in the past. Children wonder what’s happening. The insecurity of each family member contributes to the chaos for everyone. Family conflicts seem to occur for the smallest reason and over issues that never mattered before.

  The enormous change between how the old and new communities take care of the everyday aspects of life—banking, buying food, cooking—can create intense stress. To make matters worse, we may be scolded for doing something in the new place that was routine in the old one.

  TCK Hanna grew up in an area of chronic drought. The local adage for flushing the toilet was “If it’s brown, flush it down. If it’s yellow, let it mellow.” breaking that rule meant serious censure from her parents or anyone else around.

  Unfortunately, Hanna’s grandma in the United States had never heard this wonderful rule. At age thirteen, Hanna visited her grandma. Imagine Hanna’s chagrin and embarrassment when grandma pulled her aside and scolded her for not flushing the toilet.

  A severe loss of self-esteem may set in during this transition stage. Even if we physically look like adults, emotionally we feel like children again. Not only are we getting scolded for things about which we “should have known better,” but, particularly in cross-cultural moves, it seems we have to learn life over practically from scratch. As teenagers and adults, probably nothing strikes at our sense of self-esteem with greater force than learning language and culture, for these are the tasks of children. Suddenly, no matter how many decibels we raise our voices, people around don’t understand what we’re trying to say. We discover gestures we have used all our lives—like pointing someone out in a crowd using our index finger—have completely opposite meanings now. (In some cultures, it’s a curse.) Our cultural and linguistic mistakes not only embarrass us but also make us feel anxious and ashamed of being so stupid. Often anger erupts over little things. We feel upset with ourselves for our responses, and we may make bargains with those in the family for how we plan to do better, but all of that can turn to depressive moods as the enormity of the change hits us.

  Community’s Response

  Initially the community may welcome us warmly—even overwhelmingly. But in every culture the newcomer is still exactly that—and newcomers by definition don’t yet fit in. Our basic position in the new community is one of statuslessness. We carry knowledge from past experiences—often including special knowledge of people, places, and processes—but none of that knowledge has use in this new place. No one knows about our history, abilities, talents, normal responses, accomplishments, or areas of expertise. Sometimes it seems they don’t care. For TCKs entering a new school, it can be particularly devastating when their teacher makes an inaccurate comment about a country they’ve lived in and won’t listen when the TCKs try to give their perspective. Soon we question whether our achievements in the previous setting were as significant as we thought.

  People may now see us as boring or arrogant because we talk about things, places, and people they have never heard mentioned before. We feel the same way toward them because they talk about local people and events about which we know nothing.

  Even with an initial warm welcome, we may discover it’s not as easy as we thought it would be to make close friends. Circles of relationships among our new acquaintances are already well defined and most people aren’t looking to fill a vacant spot in such a circle. It’s easy to become resentful and begin to withdraw. Fine, we say inside, if they don’t need me, I don’t need them.

  Sadly, this type of withdrawal results in more feelings of isolation and alienation, for it continues to cut us off from any hope of making new friends. This increasing sense of loneliness can lead to more anger—which makes us want to withdraw even more.

  The transition stage itself is a tough time because we often feel keenly disappointed. The difference between what we expected and what we’re experiencing can trigger a sense of panic. All connection and continuity with the past seem gone, and the present isn’t what we had hoped it would be. How can we relate the different parts of our lives into a cohesive whole? Is the orderliness of the past gone forever? We look longingly to the future—hoping that somehow, sometime, life will return to normal.

  ENTERING STAGE

  Standing on the edge of the Quad at Houghton College, TCK Ramona quietly said to no one in particular, “I think I’ll go to my dorm and unpack my suitcase . . . And my mind.”

  Ramona had graduated from an international school more than a year before. For fifteen months she’d been traveling and visiting relatives while working at short-term jobs. Without her own place to nest, Ramona could never finish the transition stage. Finally, with her arrival at school and the decision to settle in, she began the entering stage of the overall transition process.

  Our Response

  During this stage, life is no longer totally chaotic. We begin to accept that this is where we are and have made the decision that it is time to become part of this new community—we just have to figure out how to do it. Although we very much want to move toward people in this new place, we still feel rather vulnerable and a bit tentative. What if we make a serious social faux pas? Will others accept us? Will they take advantage of us? We often deal with these fears through an exaggeration of our normal personality traits as we begin to interact with others in our new location. People who are usually shy, introverted, or quiet may become more so. Normally gregarious or outgoing individuals may become loud, overbearing, and aggressive. Then, of course, we’re mad at ourselves for acting so “dumb” and worry even more that people won’t like us.

  This stage is also when we f
eel a lot of ambivalence. We start to learn the new job or the rules at school, feel successful on a given day, and think, “I’m glad I’m here. This is going to be all right.” Next day, someone asks us a question we can’t answer and we wish we were back where we knew at least most of the answers. Our emotions can fluctuate widely between the excitement of the new discoveries we’re making and the homesickness that weighs us down. When we say boot and bonnet instead of trunk and hood (or vice versa), everyone laughs and tells us we’re so funny. We laugh with them, but inside there is that feeling that nobody thought this was strange in our last place. There we were “normal,” not different. On the other hand, tomorrow we catch ourselves just before we say the wrong word and use the local term instead. When it passes without a flicker from those around us (in spite of how strange it sounds to our ears!), we realize we are actually beginning to learn how life works here.

  Entering is the stage, more than any other, when we need a good mentor, someone who can show us how to function effectively in this new world (mentoring is discussed later in this book). Eventually, we go to the grocery store and actually recognize someone from our new community and can call that person by name. We drive to the other side of town, down quiet unmarked streets, without anyone telling us where to turn—and we find the house we are looking for! Someone calls with a procedural question at work and this time we do know the answer. Hope begins to grow that we will, in fact, one day have a sense of belonging to this community.