The Discomfort Zone

At the mere age of eighteen, the prospect of doing a year abroad as part of my degree seemed extremely desirable. Having grown up in North Wales, I longed to escape the monotony of rural life. As much as I loved the sea breeze of my coastal home, it was time for a breath of fresh air. Whilst London offered everything but literal fresh air, it seemed to be the perfect place to start afresh. Ever since I had encountered the city in Michael Bond’s stories about the marmalade-loving bear (Paddington), I longed to live in The Big Smoke. With no hesitation, I accepted an offer to study a four year course at King’s College London with a compulsory third year abroad. How exciting! But little did I know that the next four years of my life would challenge me in every possible way, and that the year abroad would be the pinnacle of it all.

So, in short, that’s what lead me here to the city of Orléans in France. Despite loving life as a London-dweller, I had to pack up all my belongings and cross the Channel. I didn’t really have a say about it, since eighteen-year-old me had already made that decision. As much as I loathed her for being so bold, I also admired her for thinking I could do it. And if moving to London by myself at the age of eighteen had taught me anything, it’s that spending time in your discomfort zone is the only way to grow. If something scares you, it’s probably a good thing. This is something the editor-in-chief of Cosmopolitan, Farrah Storr, has written an entire book about. Entitled The Discomfort Zone, it’s an extremely insightful book that is both honest and inspiring. One example she gives of experiencing discomfort is her year abroad in France. Just like myself, she taught English in French schools. Reflecting on the experience, she describes it as ‘a transformative twelve months and the making of me.’ She then goes on to explain that ‘by embracing the discomfort of the situation and recognising the obstacle as an opportunity for development rather than a roadblock towards it, I was rewarded with an acute understanding of who I really was and of what I was capable.’ And that is exactly what I have gained from this experience. Whilst teaching English abroad sounds like quite a cushy job, I can assure you, that in my experience, it is not. You are the outsider, uprooted from your home soil and planted in foreign soil. Whilst the soil may appear to be the same colour and texture, by no means does it mean that you’re compatible with that soil. To be completely honest, I had massively underestimated how different things would be – even the milk.

Okay, the milk. Some of you may already know this, but the French don’t have fresh milk. To them, UHT milk is the norm. Expecting your Starbucks vanilla latte to taste like it does in Britain? Forget about it. It tastes weird. But if I said that to a French person, they’d probably look at me funny, perplexed by such an observation. The point is, that even something as insignificant as milk can become problematic. Even our taste buds find it difficult to acclimatise. And communication? I think the language barrier deserves a blog post of its own. But other than that, the most difficult thing that I’ve had to acclimatise to up until now is the way in which children are disciplined within the French school system. The teachers certainly aren’t afraid to punish children that misbehave. During my first week of teaching, I felt slightly uncomfortable. Knowing that I’d have to work in such a tough environment caused me distress, but I guess I’d have to spend some time in my discomfort zone. Planting myself deep in foreign soil hasn’t been easy, but it’s definitely toughened me up a little. Undesirable circumstances really do make us flourish the most. And do you know what? Sometimes, you just have to make do with UHT milk. Who knows, it might just be an acquired taste.

I’ll stop there for now. I’ll definitely be writing a second part to this post as I’ve only just touched on how crossing The Channel isn’t quite plain sailing. Please let me know your thoughts and if there’s anything in particular you’d like me to share about my experience working and/or living in France. Thank you so much for reading!

Until next time,

R x