Giselle Onanian | DESS Alumna

It all started with the red shoes. Royal red shoes with a jingly gold buckle. Shiny red shoes that could turn the whitest of socks pink with the tiniest splash of water. Shiny, royal red shoes on the first day of school.

I think I remember them so vividly as they are what I mostly stared at on my first 'drop off' at DESS. Don't get me wrong, it didn't take me long to look up, get stuck in and start my primary-school career as the "cheekiest child in the class". But, on that first day, age five, in my freshly ironed red and white striped uniform, I tightly gripped my mum's hand as I was led to my new class, in my new school, in my new 'home', and it was the red shoes that gave distraction and put my fresh-off¬the-plane-expat worries at ease.

Like most children at the school now, I grew up an `expat'. Moving to a new country, following my father and his job, leaving friends and extended family behind as we began our journey to make a home away from 'home'. What an upbringing and what a privilege. I have been so lucky with the life I've led and the opportunities I've had here in Dubai and with DESS.

The writing was never my strong suit at school. In fact, when sharing my work at home, my mum always used to comment on the lack of diverse imagination. My stories were apparently always the same; a sun shining in a clear blue sky, a
beloved pet sidekick, and usually a blonde-haired, blue-eyed character. Ironically, I am now a successful copywriter and looking through the pages of my children's book series Alfie Et Oak, it seems not much has changed in terms of character development.
Except the feeling and emotion of the story.

Wholly inspired by my life as an expat, the Alfie Et Oak series of children's picture books features Alfie, who sets out, with the help of his dog Oak, to learn about the world around him as he grows up as a third culture kid in a country that isn't his own. Each book in the three-part series tackles significant moments in the expat journey; moving to a new country and the anxiety the upheaval brings, missing grandparents and not understanding why you can't just 'pop' over to their house, and returning to school after summer and realising that at least one of your classmates has left, and is likely never to return. For me, it was Hollie, between Year 5 and Year 6, who left. I still don't know why or where to. We were still in the home phone and fax machine days, so staying in touch wasn't easy.

The books are perfect conversation starters between children and their parents, who are either on their expat journey or just about to begin, reminiscent of the conversations I had with my parents as a child and, no doubt, the ones I will have with my two children, Frankie and Izzy, as they themselves grow up as third-culture kids here in Dubai.

Returning to DESS a few weeks ago to hold a reading with Year 1 and Year 2 was a wonderfully surreal experience. It has been almost thirty years since I first entered those gates. The memories came flooding back on my tour hosted by the Head Boy and Head Girl. Call it `same, same but different' as I tried to piece together my time there against the upgraded classrooms and facilities. Still, as much as the puzzle pieces didn't exactly fit, what long remains is the friendly and familial feel of the leadership team and teachers, the children's charisma and confidence, and the humble and homely feel of the school grounds.

Still buzzing from my visit a week later, it was at my daughter's birthday that myself and a handful of friends, also DESS alumni from the 90's, laughed as we remembered some of the best bits of DESS school life: there was grazed shins from running too fast up the giant concrete step back to class from the sunken central sandy playground; the muffled giggles in anticipation of jumping out from hiding in the cubby holes to scare our 5 Blue teacher on April Fool's Day; the pride and self-importance felt playing the lead in the school plays whilst mums and dads moaned about having to figure out how to make the costumes (Latifa Hall felt a lot smaller from when I was dressed as a cracker on the Christmas stage); the blue carpeted tiles of the library that no longer exist to have their corners picked at during story time and, a firm favourite from us all (and one I am sure isn't still a swimming lesson staple), being told that it is Mat Day as our PE teacher unravelled the floating mat across the width of the school pool as we egged each other on, hurtling towards each other from both sides and seeing who would belly flop into the pool first with the winning push. 

As we sat laughing together; friends who had met 30-odd years ago dressed in red and white, and friends who are now considered family, `aunties', 'uncles' and godparents to each other's children, it is clear that DESS has had a significant role in my journey. And as I near 30 years in the UAE, my time at DESS fondly made up the first six years from the moment that little girl walked in those school gates. It gave me the educational framework, the life¬long friendships and the personal freedom (as much as headteacher Mrs McCarthy would allow, of course) to grow into the woman and author I am today.

It all started with those red shoes. From One Yellow to Six Green. From Alumna to Author.

Go Leopards!