When we talk about Golden’s international school program, we usually see only one side of the story.
We think about the students coming here, often from countries and cultures very different from our own. We picture them arriving in a small mountain town, attending our schools, walking our snowy streets, and trying to make sense of life in Golden.
And right now, we also think about the practical concern: the urgent need for more homestay families.
But for every student who comes here, there is another side to the story. There is a young person leaving home.
In 1991, between my sophomore and junior years at university, I secured a position teaching English in South Korea. I’ve shared the experience before, from different perspectives. I was older than the high school students who came here through international programs, but in many ways, I think the experience was similar.
I did not speak Korean. Not one word. The job came together quickly, so I had little time to learn the culture or prepare for the small realities of daily life in another country.
At first, everything felt unfamiliar: the language, the food, the streets, the expectations, the pace of life. I had to learn as I went, one day at a time.
When you do not understand the words around you, you learn to watch carefully. You pay attention to gestures, routines, expressions and tone. You also learn how much kindness matters.
Someone showing you how to do something. Someone making room for you at a table. Someone explaining a custom without making you feel foolish for not knowing it. Those small acts can mean everything when you are far from home.
Over time, I developed a proficiency with chopsticks and came to love authentic Korean food. I learned to appreciate tropical rain. I learned that culture is not something you understand all at once. It seeps in slowly through meals, conversations, mistakes and small moments of grace.
Years later, when my family and I hosted many foreign students here in Golden, I think that experience helped.
I knew students did not need a perfect household, elaborate outings, or gourmet meals. They needed a welcome. They needed a place to exhale at the end of the day. They needed someone to explain Canadian habits, school expectations, winter boots, and why we talk so much about the weather.
Hosting students is not always seamless, but the rewards are real. You learn about another country without leaving your kitchen. Your home becomes part of someone else’s life story.
When homestay families are needed, it is not just about filling rooms. It is about offering a soft landing to a young person brave enough to experience life somewhere far from home.
