As of this writing, our youngest is in middle school, and our second youngest is in high school (both at a local French school here in Normandy). The older four kids? Their education paths have been very different. Put it this way: six kids, most of them already finished with high school and college, and so far, we’ve only attended two graduation ceremonies.
One son attended preschool and half a year of kindergarten in Colorado. When we moved, he attended the other half of kindergarten in France, plus first and second grade. He didn’t speak a word of French when we arrived, and because of his age at the time, he learned French without ever really having to try. In kindergarten, you’re still learning school- related vocabulary, and apparently it’s just as easy to learn that new vocabulary in French as it is in English.
He started third grade when we moved to California—he attended our neighborhood public school. Coming back to American school was a rough transition—they write exclusively in cursive in France, but he wasn’t allowed to use cursive at the school in Oakland. By fifth grade he had found his groove, was a class leader, and was asked to speak at the fifth-grade advancement celebration.
He started sixth grade at the neighborhood public middle school, and then attended a year at a charter school focused on the arts. It wasn’t a negative experience, but it wasn’t a good fit, and he was very happy to return to the public middle school. In eighth grade, he was valedictorian, and spoke at the eighth-grade advancement celebration.
Then we moved back to France where he started high school. But it had been six years, and he no longer had much of his French language skills. It was a rough first year of high school. He went from valedictorian to the bottom of his class overnight. He was struggling to relearn French in addition to the coursework of his challenging classes. And then the pandemic shutdowns started in the last half of his freshman year of high school. Suddenly he was home all the time and learning French slowed way down.
When he returned to school, he rallied and did well on the big French exams—the Brevet and the Baccalaureate. He wanted to attend an English-speaking program for university and applied in the United States, Ireland, and Australia. Ultimately, he decided to attend a creative writing program in Dublin and is thriving. He’s joined five different clubs (they call them “societies”), is the “freshers representative” for two of them, tried out for the fall play, and was the only freshman to get a speaking part (he played the uncle in Footloose).
Notably, he was our first child to attend all four years of high school.
When we moved from France to Oakland, one daughter started her freshman year of high school at our local public school. She loved it and thrived. And we could see she was happy to be taking classes in her native language. She signed up for the cross-country team, she participated in student government and jazz band, took several AP classes, and got great grades. She was especially committed to cross-country and became the team captain her junior year.
We spent a few weeks back in France the summer after her junior year to reconnect with friends and revisit many of our favorite places. When we first arrived, she would run each day to try to keep up with her target cross-country pace. We also rented an electric piano so she could practice for the upcoming year of jazz band. Several weeks into this summer France trip, the four older kids and Ben went on a pilgrimage to Mont-Saint-Michel, walking about twenty kilometers a day over four days, sleeping in an abandoned farm, a gentle meadow, and the attic of an old stone abbey at night. They walked with a group of around twenty-five other pilgrims, and (as is customary) our daughter had some long conversations with many different pilgrims that changed her path.
Though shocking at the time, she decided not to attend her senior year, and instead, she moved to Paris to be an au pair. When she pitched this idea to us, of course we had many questions about the whys and hows of it all, but she had solid answers and a good plan. She was confident in her decision, and knowing how capable she was (and still is), we were supportive of this big change in direction.
While working as an au pair, she was tasked with speaking English to the boys she cared for, but despite that, a year in Paris with a French family really strengthened her French. She still had a few courses to take in order to graduate from high school, and we found online versions that would give her credit. That fall, from Paris, she applied for college. We helped her work on applications over video chat.
While in Paris, she also successfully completed her high school courses online, and arranged with her California high school to come back from Paris in June and “walk” during graduation. Note: This has been the only high school graduation that any of our kids has attended so far (and no, graduation ceremonies aren’t really a thing in France).
Despite her unconventional path, she was accepted into the prestigious University of California, Berkeley (locals call it Cal) and majored in English. She graduated school in May 2021—Gabrielle flew out to celebrate with her, but of course, still deep into the pandemic, there was no actual ceremony.
When we moved to Oakland, we enrolled another daughter in an experimental French and Spanish immersion school for seventh grade—with the hope it would help keep our family connected to France. We couldn’t afford the tuition but worked out a marketing-for-tuition trade for a hefty discount. After a year, we realized we preferred the Oakland public schools, and she enrolled at our neighborhood middle school. She quickly found a terrific group of friends—girls who became women she is still close with today.
At age thirteen, she wanted an adventure and arranged to move back to France for a semester, to live with a dear family friend, and attend the school she had attended before, so she spent the first half of eighth grade in France, without us, and returned significantly more independent.
She went on to attend our assigned public high school and thrived. She was Juliet in the school’s production of Romeo and Juliet, she participated in several traveling plays; she was a lead in mock trial, led a voter registration drive, and was an activist and organizer speaking out about gun violence.
She then made arrangements to follow in her sister’s footsteps and skip her senior year of high school to be an au pair, but in Montpellier, France. She took her remaining high school credits as online classes and left for France at the beginning of what would have been her senior year. While she was in Montpellier as an au pair, the pandemic lockdowns happened. We had been so worried she would miss out on senior year activities and graduation. Once again, we learned our worry was a waste—even if she had stayed in Oakland, she would not have experienced the usual senior year anyway.
For university, she knew she wanted to study film in France. She applied and was accepted to EICAR—a film school in Paris—where she finished her degree in directing. Her program was in French, and it was a thrill to see her doing college-level work in French.
One son attended preschool through fifth grade in New York. We distinctly remember so much anxiety about when he should start kindergarten—he had a late August birthday and the registration cut off was September 1; should we enroll him as the youngest in his class, or wait a year, and enroll him as the oldest in his class? In Colorado, he attended sixth grade and half of seventh grade. In France, he attended half of seventh grade, plus eighth and ninth grade. Learning French from zero was tough as a seventh grader, but he committed and became quite fluent.
When we moved to Oakland, he started at the local public high school as a sophomore. He joined a million clubs and got excellent grades. The following fall, he moved back to France for a semester on an informal student exchange with one of his friends and lived with a French family. His French markedly improved, and he became much more independent. When he got back to California, he was resistant to return to school. He felt he had gotten what he wanted out of high school and wanted to drop out and take the GED. We laugh now about all that unnecessary anxiety around when he should start school, but it never occurred to us he wouldn’t finish school.
He later enrolled in community college, took two years off for a mission, and then returned and completed his required coursework. Then he transferred to Cal and earned his bachelor’s degree in film. We were able to attend his graduation. (If you’re curious, we talk a lot more about his route from high school dropout to Berkeley grad in the next chapter—it’s a compelling story for anyone who is stressed out about college.)
This was the second of two graduations we’ve ever been able to attend.
Four different kids, four different educational paths. Three kids moving back to France independently, three college graduates and counting. Lots of moves, lots of different schools. What we learned: There are multiple paths to college, if that is important to you. There are lots of chances to start over. You can still attend an excellent university even if you drop out during junior year of high school. And if you want your kids to develop skills like confidence and independence, there are lots of unconventional ways to do that too.
Though you may not guess it from our experience, we believe there is a lot of value in the traditional high school experiences, rites, and rituals. We appreciate the community gathering and sense of renewal of school registration each fall. We value the cross-country and track-and-field meets where we have witnessed our children exert themselves and reach and work toward a goal. We love high school theater productions and the opportunities they provide for public performances to large audiences. And we love the experience of graduations, celebrating our children’s accomplishments, the journey that has led to this end, and imagining their future now with their diploma. We love and deeply value the community camaraderie that exudes in all these occasions.
We value high school traditions, but we are also willing to let them go. Our children have gained valuable experiences by removing themselves from these traditions—experiences that have shaped them in positive ways.
You might have some nonnegotiables for your children, and maybe they include graduation or at least regular attendance at high school for four years. And you might be inclined to worry and get anxious if your child is not on that path or is threatening to opt off that path. Our experience suggests that the traditional path is familiar and can work for some children. But it is not the only path. If you and your child are locking horns over your insistence that your child follows this path, consider easing up. You don’t have to let go of all expectations and values, but it’s worth examining why you feel so attached to the known path. Our kids have left the path several times now. And it’s been okay. Letting go might bring some welcome relief for both of you—and your relationship.