How Living in the Middle East Equipped My Son for Middle School

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There he is: My little boy, radiant with excitement on his first day of middle school, standing at the end of our picturesque Vermont road on a beautiful morning. His smile is infectious—no, it’s more than that; he’s practically shimmering with self-assurance. Not a hint of anxiety crosses his face, despite the fact that he’s about to step into a new school without a single friend by his side. In fact, the only thing that briefly landed on him was a butterfly.

What’s the secret behind his calm demeanor? A year spent in the Middle East.

Back in 2014, I found myself racing alongside my son, Max, in a taxi on his inaugural day at the American International School in Abu Dhabi. The heat outside was stifling, hitting 120 degrees as we navigated the bustling streets. Max sat quietly, lost in thought, preparing to enter a vast private institution filled with students from over 80 nations, including peers like the Sheikh’s nephew.

As I hurriedly applied sunscreen to his exposed skin, I felt a pang of concern. While I could shield him from the sun, I knew he would face challenges inside those gates. Would his new environment foster understanding among diverse cultures, or would it reflect the region’s ongoing tensions?

The truth was a mix of both. By the second day, Max learned that not everyone was fond of Americans, even in an American school. He faced an unsettling encounter when a classmate from Egypt threatened him simply for his nationality. This moment became a turning point for Max; he realized he had to work harder to forge connections and dispel any negative stereotypes. He even requested that the vice principal show leniency towards his aggressor.

In late September, we settled into an apartment on Al Reem Island, and I began my new role in communications at Khalifa University. Max had to adjust to taking the bus at 6:25 a.m. for a one-hour journey. Each morning, we stood by the Boutik Mall, surrounded by the towering Sun and Sky Towers.

For weeks, I watched other children board their bright yellow buses headed to schools with names like the British International School, the Indian School, and the Moroccan School. I happily waved goodbye as Max climbed onto bus No. 7 with a friend from Jordan, until one day I realized that his bus did not have “American International School” written on it. Later that day, I received an email from the Embassy, alerting us to a disturbing post on a Jihadist website that targeted teachers at American and international schools in the region.

My husband, a director at Abu Dhabi’s New York Film Academy, and I weighed our options. While returning home might have been safer, we chose to stay, knowing we would miss the chance to connect with the rich tapestry of cultures in our midst.

Then, on December 1, tragedy struck when a teacher named Amy Johnson was murdered in a public restroom at Boutik Mall by a woman in a veiled niqab. This crime occurred right where Max and I waited for his bus, just steps away from our daily grocery store. The entire community—Muslim, Christian, American, and Arab—was left in shock. Swift action by the government reassured us of our safety as they pledged to enhance security measures.

Despite the unsettling events, I continued to send Max off on bus No. 7, trusting that he would be okay. When he turned 11 in the spring of 2015, we celebrated with a small party that included friends from Kenya, Russia, Lebanon, Australia, and notably, his Syrian friend, Omar. I often wondered what hardships Omar’s family faced to find refuge in this place.

We persevered through the school year, with our wonderful driver, Samir, easing my worries by safely picking up Max after school activities. I’m incredibly grateful to my friend, Rose, for introducing us to him.

As we said goodbye to Abu Dhabi on June 12, Samir drove us to the airport. Max excitedly read Arabic signs aloud as we passed through the city one last time. However, it wasn’t until he joyfully stepped onto bus No. 21, headed for his American middle school in Vermont, that I truly felt we had made the right decision by spending that year in the Middle East.

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Summary:

This article reflects on how a year spent in the Middle East prepared my son, Max, for the challenges of middle school. Through experiences of cultural diversity, unexpected threats, and personal growth, he emerged with newfound confidence and resilience. This journey highlighted the importance of understanding different perspectives and building connections, ultimately enriching his life.