Year: 12th gradeAge: 17School: Zama High SchoolPlaces lived: Vicenza, Italy; Rota, Spain; Kaiserslautern, Germany; Lajes, Portugal; and TokyoFavorite assignment: Lajes, PortugalWhat is your favorite keepsake or souvenir? My traditional Portuguese riding chaps, “polainas de pregos”Plans for the future: Study International Relations at Middlebury College and hopefully work for the American Embassy in Portugal after graduation.

Possibly the most interesting result of living abroad is the introductions to non-military Americans when I’m back in the States.

After the cursory name exchange, the next question out of the person’s mouth is, without fail, “So, where are you from?” When I reply Tokyo, a series of rapid-fire queries inevitably follows:

What are you doing there?

Do you not like the U.S.?

Do they make you eat raw fish?

And my personal favorite: Do you speak Chinese?

Still, it’s easy for me to forgive the questioners’ ignorance. After all, they have not experienced the trials and triumphs of being a military kid living abroad.

A stroll down the hallways of Zama American High School is a glimpse into the diverse makeup of the military. Students are of all races and backgrounds. And it is impossible to make assumptions based on appearances; everybody here has a story to tell. I found out recently that a girl who sits behind me in Japanese class speaks fluent Dutch, and one of my closest friends casually mentioned last week that she was in Lebanon visiting relatives during the Hamas turmoil.

Perhaps more interesting than the melting pot of kids is their shared mentality: “We’re all in this together.” So many have had a parent deploy or been told they have 30 days to pack up and move their life elsewhere, that tales of woe are met with empathy and encouragement. We tell the unlucky person that we’ve all been there, and we’ve all survived.

Everywhere I’ve lived there have always been people whom I affectionately term “perpetual statesiders.” These kids, who had never lived outside of the U.S. before and have lived abroad for only a couple of years, bring with them their strange style and unknown slang. And their complaints.

Some of these complaints I recognize as valid. I suppose the problem is that many of us have lived abroad for so many years that we aren’t even aware of what we’re missing. I would never have guessed that high school football games draw hundreds of fans, that limos are the transportation mode of choice for prom, or that debate and lacrosse teams even exist.

Because I’ve grown so comfortable living overseas, my oddest experiences are when I go “home” to visit relatives in the U.S. I’m unsettled hearing English all around me and attract stares for my unconscious head-bowing of thanks. For these reasons and so many others, my upcoming move to the states for college is constantly on my mind.

I imagine myself going to America next fall just as my Danish great-grandfather did so many years ago, leaving my home, friends and cherished memories overseas and arriving with suitcase in hand, anxious but excited at the prospect of a life I’ve never known.

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