(Name Withheld)(back to contents)
“The reality of life is that your perceptions—right or wrong—influence everything else you do. When you get a proper perspective of your perceptions, you may be surprised how many other things fall into place.” —Roger Berkman

Was this really going to happen? An uneventful but pleasant dinner meal was abruptly suspended by the announcement that our family would soon move from our Charlotte home. I was numb with disbelief. While the thought of moving was itself disruptive enough, it was our destination that left me stunned. My father informed us that we would soon be leaving North Carolina and the United States to take up residence in Sydney, Australia.

From my parents’ sanguine perspective, moving to Sydney represented the “personal and professional opportunity of a lifetime.” As a fifteen-year-old high school sophomore, I held a contrary view. Nearing the end of my first year at West Charlotte High School, I was making friends, excelling in sports, and counting the days until my sixteenth birthday and the freedom of a driver’s license. The thought of departing my native city left me devastated and heartbroken at first, fearful and angry later. I was utterly convinced that a ten thousand mile relocation would ruin my life. My desperate requests to remain in the US filled the next few weeks; but fighting, begging, and pleading failed to weaken my father’s resolve. Finally, sad and bitter, I traveled with my family to the land down under.

After our arrival, the positive side of the “personal and professional opportunity of a lifetime” continued to be elusive. Friends and relatives were half a world away, warm June weather was replaced with cold and steady winter rain, there was to be no driving until age eighteen, and worst of all, our new school required uniforms. While common in many cultures, school uniforms seemed cruel and unusual punishment, even for a penal colony. Surely, the darkest day in the Antipodes was when my brother and I were forced to don our blazers, ties, boaters, and “school shoes,” and venture off to the private school world of SCECGS Redlands. Daily attendance in this alien education system, where math was “maths,” and sports were “sport,” did little to lift my spirits. After two months in Sydney, I remained despondent.

Three months after our arrival, the ship carrying our furniture and belongings docked in Sydney, and life improved dramatically. A few nights in a familiar bed can change one’s perspective, even when wearing a boater; and coincidentally, September in Sydney meant the start of spring sports and tryouts for the basketball team. Shortly after being named to my school’s varsity level squad, my circle of friends increased, and my dissatisfaction soon changed to contentment. Australian culture, seemingly alien and peculiar at first, became familiar and agreeable, and rapidly things began to fall into place. My new perspective allowed me to appreciate and enjoy life in Sydney, a beautiful and enchanting city.

The expatriate experience was a blessing. I learned to value another culture, visited numerous foreign countries, and formed friendships that have lasted for a decade. Surely the most positive aspect of my fifteen-month sojourn in Australia was the recognition that a difficult life obstacle can, with effort, be seen as an incredible opportunity. Part of this paradigm shift was the realization that one’s personal outlook and attitude is often more the issue than the obstacle itself.

When it came time for me to leave my family and return, alone, for my senior year at West Charlotte High School, I was again faced with an intimidating challenge. This time however, I was ready for the race, and cleared the first hurdle with ease. The first hurdle was not the actual difficulty of living away from my parents at age seventeen, but managing my own perceptions to recognize that any obstacle, no matter how great, can be overcome.

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