Coming to America / Twice an immigrant

On this day, exactly 30 years ago, I came to America as an “exchange student” to attend high school as a 14 year-old teenager with big dreams, funny hair, and feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders!?

That decision happened fast. Some of my old friends from back in the day at collège Carnot in Paris, every once in a while, like to remind me how sudden this all was… I had just returned from summer vacation with plans to rejoin them for my “Seconde” (10th grade) at the lycée - and all of the sudden, here I was calling them a few days before my departure to announce that my parents were sending me to spend that next school year in Seattle instead.?

I landed in Seattle and started my first day of school a few days late into the school year. I remember being in awe… mesmerized with the school’s modern architecture and layout, the bright lighting, the lockers, the energy, the 90’s fashion style… it seemed unreal, just like the American TV shows I had watched back home.?

“Kids actually DRIVE to school and park there the whole day!!?”

“What do you mean people can write in pencil instead of a fountain pen!!?”?

“Wow, lockers make so much sense… why have I been lugging around heavy textbooks all this time?”?

“What? The same class schedule every day? You mean you don’t have History on Tuesday mornings, Philosophy on Wednesday afternoons, 3-hour blocks of French Lit sprinkled through the week +/- “option Latin-Grec”, on top of a 1st AND a 2nd foreign language… NO SCHOOL ON SATURDAYS!!!!???”

Funny story: my first week in pre-Calculus class, I learned that sin(x) was pronounced “sine of x” and not “sinus of x”!?

It was also quite scary facing this new environment knowing you can’t really come home to your family, even though I had the best host family one could hope for. I tried to not let it show and play it cool… I told myself I had to show courage and confidence. I had to overcome those unwarranted fears. Hearing about the stories and legacy of my parents, as refugees - new immigrants themselves, having to rebuild a life, starting from scratch and with a child to raise in a foreign country where they didn’t have their bearings… who was I to complain, having a host family, food on the table, school books, shoes and clothes to wear? It can’t be that bad when you get to play tennis and soccer after school. All I had to do was work harder, catch up, then overachieve. Do not show weakness. Fulfill your duties and achieve what is expected of you. That’s all.?

Looking back on those days, I believe I was starting to explore what the concept of legacy meant for me. I’m writing this while in Paris spending a bit of time with my dad, now a retired physician, asking him about what their actual plans and hopes for me were at the time. Those early years were a difficult and emotional time for everyone, not just me.

The opportunity and decision to “stay” in America was not an instantaneous one… Rather, it was a long “pivot”… filled with ambiguity and uncertainly, at a time of financial strain for our family - and for my parents, it involved the hard choice of having to send one kid away while raising the two younger ones, and wondering what it would mean for the family if the oldest child could potentially pave the way for the younger ones to also study in the US in the future.?

Today, I still get triggered when I see a young teenager and find out they are 14 years old. Not 13. Not 15. It reminds me of that period of my life. I wonder what goes on in that kid’s head. I wonder what personal challenges they are going through, how they connect with their own reality when there is that emotional turmoil of growing up, mixed with the pressure and responsibility of needing to do something important with their life… of making it happen, especially in America, the “land of opportunity”. I look around and today, in 2021, as competition for getting into a good college is becoming so fierce, I can only imagine the stress and anxiety of being a young 14 year-old, barely starting high school, and having to plan how to optimize for college entrance at an Ivy League. Tough times!?

So here we are now… on my 30-year anniversary of making my own “Plymouth landing” (aka “Mukilteo landing”). It’s been a really fun journey in America and I have so much to be grateful for. Thank you America for the many opportunities, you truly are a special place… and a special ?? for all of you friends, family, and enablers along the way who have been there for me, opened doors, and kept them open. It’s been a helluva a ride and I can’t wait for what’s next!?