Raising a Family in France

"Settling a family on foreign soil … The six weeks before school started, we learned more about ourselves and the world than we had in the last six years"

By Bonni Bohn

As a young adult, when I heard the acronym "MBA," images of Ivy League campuses and postgraduation yuppiedom came to mind. Now, as the wife of a business school admissions veteran, my thoughts have evolved. The term "business school" does not merely symbolize an edifice filled with ambitious, bright minds, but a journey that begins long before orientation week.

For our family, the process commenced in 2004, when my husband Mark's relevant work experience clock started ticking. GMAT completion to final application submission filled our last two years.In the meantime, life took its course.Mark's father passed away in 2005, and he suddenly became the manager of his ailing mother's day-to-day medical and financial needs.We also welcomed a son and daughter into our home and moved twice to find space large enough for our burgeoning family.The responsibilities of work, family, and pursuing the business school dream made us feel like twentysomethings trapped in 40-year-old bodies.The emotions mounted, and exhaustion and stress played dominant roles in our lives during the loop-de-loops of our MBA roller coaster.Fortunately, we discovered ways to de-stress (weekend excursions, dinner parties, dates, etc.) and maintained a healthy family life.Needless to say, when Mark received INSEAD's (INSEAD Full-Time MBA Profile) acceptance letter in March 2009, we danced, we cheered, we cried. After years of diligent efforts, our family celebrated our acceptance. We all felt like we earned it.

Next, the international moving monsoon engulfed our duplex. Visa-mangling, selling unshippable items, storing treasures (such as my old MathCounts trophies, of course), packing our valuables for travel, shopping for our French abode via the Internet, and tying up loose ends at work, church, and within the community, consumed us. My poor babies spent many mornings with Dora the Explorer while I sorted through five years of furniture and paraphernalia, and they attended many afternoon playdates with sympathetic friends.

Transition Hardships

By July, we waved goodbye to California, I discovered I was pregnant with our third child, and we moved to our close-to-campus flat in Fontainebleau, France. The plane ride from D.C. to Dublin, and then Dublin to Paris was heinous, to say the least. The sleepless flight and trail of tears through customs felt like a voyage on the Mayflower. Fortunately, our maiden drive through the gorgeous forest surrounding INSEAD's campus and heavy brie and baguette consumption upon arrival revived us from our traumatic travels. However, our then-16-month-old transitioned to European living much later than the rest of us. After an entire week of all-nighters, she finally succumbed to the time change. If you attempt to move with young children, especially overseas, I would sincerely suggest hiring help for the move and bringing a parent or friend to ease the pain, if possible.

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