After more than a decade of teaching abroad, the idea of returning home tugged at my heart. I could picture my younger self sitting in those classrooms, dreaming big dreams. There was comfort in imagining familiar streets, familiar seasons, and stories that didn’t need explaining. But another voice spoke just as clearly, the curious, wide-eyed part of me that whispered, The world is still so big. There is still so much to learn.
By the end of that day, I knew my life was about to bend in a new direction.
I took a deep breath, a large sip of coffee, and gave myself a silent pep talk before the first interview. It was on Zoom. I watched the spinning circle as the meeting loaded, then suddenly, there they were, two interviewers offering polite smiles before launching straight into scenario-based questions. Four complex prompts appeared on the screen. I had one minute to think, prepare, and respond. As I spoke, they scribbled notes, their expressions carefully neutral. I couldn’t tell if I was doing well or missing the mark entirely. When it ended, I closed my laptop feeling less confident than when I’d started. Not the mindset I had hoped for as I headed into interview number two.
I rushed out the door, jumped on the subway, and made my way to the international job fair. Anyone who has attended one knows to expect the unexpected. My next interview? In a hotel room.
I knocked, steadying my breath, trying to summon confidence that had slipped away an hour earlier. But the moment the door opened, everything shifted. The Principal greeted me with the warmth of someone welcoming an old friend. Inside, members of the team smiled, waved me in, and offered a seat. I don’t remember every face or every question, but I remember the feeling that washed over me: Relief. Ease. Belonging.
They didn’t just ask about my résumé. They asked about me. My values. My philosophy. How I build community in my classroom. How I navigate the challenges and joys of living abroad. Their curiosity was genuine, their laughter unforced. It felt less like an interview and more like a conversation with people who understood the strange, beautiful life of an international educator. As I walked out of that hotel room, I remembered, clearly and deeply, why I had chosen this path all those years ago.
Because when you work at an international school, especially in a country where you don’t speak the local language, your school community becomes your family.
Everyday errands turn into small adventures. A trip to the grocery store means decoding unfamiliar labels and hoping the can in your hand is actually crushed tomatoes. Colleagues become your guides, explaining the spice aisle so you can recreate your signature mac and cheese. And when you realize at 7 p.m. that you’re out of oregano, one message on Facebook is all it takes before a colleague appears at your door, spice jar in hand.
For educators who move abroad with partners and children, the gift of shared schedules is transformative. Pick-ups and drop-offs align. School holidays match. Life feels simpler, more intentional. With family thousands of miles away, colleagues step into roles once filled by relatives. Need a date night? A coworker schedules a playdate and you and your partner have the night to yourselves. Having a tough week? Support is just down the hall, or across campus, from someone who truly understands your context.
For single educators, colleagues become friends, travel companions, and co-adventurers. Together, you explore your new home and venture to nearby countries on long weekends and school breaks. These friendships don’t end when contracts do; they stretch across continents and last a lifetime.
This is the true gift of international schools: the communities they create. They offer belonging in places that might otherwise feel overwhelming. They are not just institutions of learning, but deeply human spaces, ones that care not only about education, but about people.
Living abroad asks a lot of you. It asks you to step into the unknown, to leave the familiar streets and classrooms that once felt like home, and to trust that something meaningful waits on the other side of uncertainty. I remember sitting through that first interview in Toronto, picturing my younger self in those classrooms, imagining the comfort of familiar seasons and streets. But it was in that hotel room, sitting in that interview that I realized what I had truly been seeking all along.
International schools don’t just offer jobs, they offer a life rich with connection, curiosity, and belonging. They teach you that home is not just a place on a map, but a community you help create wherever you go. They stretch your understanding of the world, of others, and of yourself.
The day I chose to teach abroad again, I wasn’t just choosing a school or a contract. I was choosing a life that would change me forever. And that is the gift of international education: it doesn’t just change where you live. It changes who you become.
Dr. Denise Brohm is the Grade 4 English teacher and team lead at Silicon Valley International School. She is an experienced international educator with over a decade of teaching internationally. Holding a Doctorate in Educational Leadership from the University of Southern California, she is passionate about fostering inclusive, culturally rich classrooms and helping students and educators thrive in global learning environments. Denise is also deeply committed to health and exercise, believing in the importance of balance and wellness alongside professional and personal growth. Outside the classroom, she enjoys exploring new countries, cuisines, and communities, and embraces the transformative power of international education to shape not just where we live, but who we become.
