My First Year in Switzerland: A Year of Change, Loss and Learning

As this school year comes to an end, I find myself reflecting on my first year living and working in Switzerland.

This was not just a move from one school to another. It was a change of job, country, continent, routine, climate, professional context and personal life. On paper, it looks like a typical international educator move. In reality, it was far more layered than that.

Moving countries is often spoken about in a very practical way. We talk about contracts, flights, permits, accommodation, bank accounts, insurance, schools and relocation paperwork. These things matter, and they take time, but I have realised that the practical side of a move is often easier than the emotional side. Documents can be arranged. Boxes can be packed. Flights can be booked. But leaving a life behind and starting again is not always as neat as the relocation checklist makes it look.

Shortly before this move, I lost my father. That changed the emotional weight of everything.

It is difficult to explain what it feels like to prepare for a major professional and personal transition while also dealing with grief. There is excitement because a new chapter is beginning. There is gratitude because a new opportunity has come your way. But there is also a quiet heaviness because someone important is no longer there to see it unfold.

Like many people who live away from home, I have always known that distance comes with a cost. When we build lives in different countries, we also accept that we may miss important family moments. We may not always be there when we want to be. We may have to support people from far away. Still, knowing this does not make it easier when the moment actually comes.

So, this year began with a strange combination of emotions. I was stepping into a new role in Switzerland, trying to understand a new school and a new country, while also processing a very personal loss. There were days when I felt grateful and motivated. There were also days when I simply felt tired. That is probably the honest version of the story.

Switzerland itself has been a fascinating place to begin again. It is beautiful in the obvious ways, of course. The mountains, the lakes, the trains, the order, the quiet efficiency of daily life. But living somewhere is very different from visiting it. Once the first few weeks pass, you begin to notice the real work of settling in. You learn how systems function. You learn what people value. You learn what is said directly and what is understood without being said. You learn how a school community works from the inside.

That has been one of the biggest professional lessons of the year for me.

Experience matters, but context matters just as much.

After many years in education, it is easy to think that experience will automatically transfer from one school or country to another. In some ways, it does. Good teaching is still good teaching. Clear communication still matters. Strong relationships still matter. Curriculum knowledge still matters. But every school has its own culture. Every country has its own expectations. Every community has its own way of doing things.

This year reminded me that experience does not mean having all the answers. If anything, experience gives you more opportunities to learn. It gives you the confidence to ask better questions. It helps you notice patterns. It also teaches you that what worked well in one context may need to be adjusted in another.

That has been humbling in a good way.

I have been fortunate to work alongside colleagues at International School Rheintal who have made this transition much easier. Joining a new school is never just about learning systems and timetables. It is about understanding people, building trust and finding your place in a community. I am thankful for the support, kindness and professionalism I have experienced during this first year.

At the same time, I have continued to stay connected with the wider educational community through the Swiss Group of International Schools, the IB Association and IBEN. These networks matter because they remind us that education is not limited to the walls of one school. Some of the best professional learning happens through conversations with educators working in different contexts, asking similar questions and facing similar challenges.

This year also kept me emotionally connected to the Middle East.

I spent almost a decade in the UAE. That is not a short time. The UAE was not just a place where I worked. It became home in many ways. I built friendships there. I grew professionally there. I worked with colleagues who shaped my thinking. I taught students whose journeys I still care about deeply.

When events in the region deteriorated this year, it did not feel distant to me. It felt personal. I was in the UAE for an International Baccalaureate school visit just a week before tensions escalated. Soon after, reading the news became part of my daily routine, not because I wanted to follow politics, but because I was thinking about people.

Friends were there. Former colleagues were there. Family members were there. Students were there.

That changes how you read the news. A place on the map becomes a list of names and faces.

I found myself checking updates, messaging people, and hoping that better sense would prevail. I am relieved that the situation moved towards de-escalation, and I hope the efforts towards lasting peace continue. This year has reminded me that peace, stability and normal life should never be taken for granted. For those of us who have lived in the region and still carry strong connections there, the anxiety was real.

Professionally, this has also made me think again about the role of schools during uncertain times. I do not want to make a grand statement that sounds good but means little. In simple terms, schools matter because young people notice the world around them. They hear things. They read things. They sense uncertainty even when adults try to hide it.

Our job is not to pretend that the world is simple. It is to help students develop the knowledge, confidence and judgement to engage with it more thoughtfully. Sometimes that happens through curriculum. Sometimes through a conversation after class. Sometimes through the way a school community responds to difficulty.

That is one of the reasons I still find education meaningful after all these years. It remains human work. It involves subjects, assessments, grades and systems, but it also involves trust, patience, timing, judgement and relationships. None of that can be reduced to a policy document or a spreadsheet.

As I look back on this year, I do not see it as a year of achievement in the usual sense. I see it more as a year of adjustment. A year of learning how to live in a new country. A year of finding my feet in a new professional context. A year of carrying grief quietly while continuing to move forward. A year of being reminded that people matter more than plans.

I am especially thankful to those who supported me before, during and after the move. Some people helped professionally. Some helped practically. Some simply stayed in touch, which mattered more than they may realise.

Now, as the school year ends, I am ready to pause. To spend time with family. To rest properly. To reflect without rushing. The next academic year will arrive soon enough, with its own challenges, opportunities and lessons.

For now, I am grateful.

Grateful for the opportunity to begin again in Switzerland.

Grateful for the people who made the transition easier.

Grateful for the lessons this year has brought, even the difficult ones.

And grateful for the reminder that every new chapter teaches us something, especially when it does not begin in the way we expected.