Learning German as a 10-year-old brown immigrant kid in Austria
It was April 2008, the school year was about to end in Pakistan. I distinctly remember watching the news about a certain Obama, who was somehow important enough to be mentioned on Pakistani television. Of course, I didn’t know who that was, or what that meant, just like I didn’t fully understand why my dad was discussing the next school day with me and my siblings. We were going over what I would tell my teachers and classmates before we left for Austria the day after that (And of course, I didn’t know where that was either). As for that final day at school in Pakistan, I only remember a teacher telling the whole class that I was leaving to go abroad, the confused faces of my classmates, and the principal coming in to hand me my final grade certificate (I placed 3rd in my class that year. Yes, they rank students there).
And just like that, we were on a plane to Vienna. My next vivid memory is of Vienna Airport watching planes land in the background as my dad haggled with the immigration officer and a bunch of distinctly green booklets (our Pakistani passports) laid out on the counter.
The school year in Austria was still in progress, with around 2.5 months left till summer vacation. So, as was standard operating procedure for brown immigrants, me and my siblings were enrolled in a nearby school within a week of arrival. I remember me, my older…
