The first time we emigrated to New Zealand, we were a family with a nine-month-old and two-year-old. Those babies were an extension of us and apart from the 36-hour flight, which was either sleeping or non-stop Peppa Pig, nothing really changed for them because their whole world was us. It was easy; we move and they come with us.

Even when we moved them at five and seven and then again at seven and eight (my maths is fine here, they are 18 months apart so depending on what month it is, they are one or two years apart), it was relatively simple. Yes they had to say goodbye to friends, family and familiar things, but at those ages, as long as you have Mum and Dad behind you, you’re brave enough for anything.

The biggest challenge I remember were when we came back to the UK in 2017 was being introduced to the school zoning system and having to literally argue our case to the local authority so both children could go to the same little school in the village we were living in. Totally worth it, it was the most delightful school. And, when we returned to New Zealand in 2018, we were shocked to discover that a new nine-year-old girl beginning at a primary school can be seen as quite the threat to some well-established friendship groups. The political agenda of a Y5 little miss is not to be underestimated. That said, these were small hills that were overcome in a couple of weeks.

Nothing like the mountains you face when you are moving teenagers to the other side of the world.

One thing to bear in mind, if you are moving between the southern and northern hemispheres with school-aged children, is that the academic years begin and end at different times of the year. This means depending on the month your child is born, they will most likely start in a different year to the one they were in. We have a June and a November child. This means for the June child, when they move to NZ they go back a year, returning to the UK, they will skip forward a year. Vice versa for the November baby.

This meant, when we returned back to the UK in July, my 14-year-old daughter who started Y10 in NZ in January, began Y10 again in September. My 13-year-old son who was only halfway through Y8 in NZ, jumped up to Y9 in September. They also enjoyed two six-week summer holidays in the first six months of 2024, which is fun but means they have missed six weeks of schooling that year. Factor in that the UK education system is a lot more focused and demanding than the relaxed schooling in NZ, and you have a shock to the system for two Kiwi teenagers!

We did quite a bit of research into schools, including a nine-day trip to the UK in May 2024 for me to visit a few contenders and get a gut feel of where would be good for our children. Not easily achieved within a one-hour tour, but it was enough. Pastoral care was a big requisite as we knew joining a new secondary school where they knew no one was going to be socially and emotionally challenging as much as it would be intellectually.

A term and a half in, I am sure we made the right decision on the school, but blimey this has been tough. In the first six weeks, our children were planted into a school of over 1,200 teenagers that they had never met, taught by teachers who didn’t have a clue of what they had been taught so far, and introduced to new systems for communication, discipline and eating lunch. In that time, they had to move four times between different AirBnBs whilst their father was grieving the loss of a close friend and their mum was ploughing through the legal and financial assault course that is buying a house in the UK. Home life was far from a peaceful haven to return to after a tough day at school.

Navigating how to support and advocate for my children in that time, was one of the hardest parts of parenting so far. I had woefully over-estimated the curiosity teenagers would have for new students arriving from a foreign land. I thought my two Kiwis would be exotic and interesting, and it would play out like some teen drama where they found their tribe and the girl/guy of their dreams would invite them to prom, disrupting the status quo of the school’s social hierarchy but in a good way, where everyone realised that being different is cool and something to be celebrated. Not so. They were welcomed with a good dose of apathy and disinterest. Teachers were too busy teaching and putting the fear of God into my Y10 daughter about GCSEs to ask how she was adjusting to the new curriculum and if they could support her in any way. Boys assigned to help my son get some food at lunchtime wandered away and he found himself slowly eating a cookie in a corner on his own until his next class.

I don’t blame anyone because we’re all just getting through our days and my children are only top priority for me, but so many times I wanted to scream at people ‘all they need is just a little bit of attention and a smidge of empathy and they will be an asset to your school and any friendship group that will have them.’ We weren’t asking for the red carpet. Far from it, my children wanted to fly so far under the radar they became these little quiet mice that dreaded being noticed, but if they had been given a warm welcome, a smile, an invitation to walk to class or join a group for lunch it would have been so different.

To their credit, the school responded really well to a few panic emails from me and the teachers quickly stepped up their game. It didn’t take much, just a few encouraging words and brief catch ups at the end of class and my children were getting decent marks on homework and tests. Friendships saw a slower recovery but they’re finding their people and the boys and girls that have shown kindness to my children have my gratitude forever.

I keep telling myself that when they look back on their childhood and the many moves we have put them through, they will be grateful for the opportunity to live in two wonderful countries, all the people they have met, the cultures they have been immersed in, even the challenges they faced because it made them stronger and more empathetic to others. I hope my two children will become adults that are wise and grounded beyond their years, and will be a blessing to whoever they live with wherever they go in the world.

For now though, I question if we made the right decision. I worry that I have asked too much and that things would have been much easier if we had just stayed put. But then, do I wish for an easy life for my children, or do I wish for a full life?