I moved my daughter from a small private high school school in Hawaii to a larger public school in Seattle. Now she’s thriving.

• It had been 7 years since my husband’s death, and my daughter and I needed a fresh start.
• I was nervous to move her from the safety of the small private school she attended in Hawaii.
• We took a leap and moved to Seattle where she is now thriving.

What I did goes against conventional wisdom. We all know that a teenager needs stability and that high school is an important time in their development. It’s a time when self-concept, friends, and consistency are all important. It can be destabilizing to move in the middle of that four-year period. Yet, that is exactly what we did. In September 2024, I moved my then-16-year-old-daughter from her private school in Hawaii to a public school in Seattle.

Of course, I was nervous, but the move ended up being worth it.

I knew the timing was tricky

“Are you sure? She only has two years left. Why not wait until college?” I heard those sentiments a lot from both friends and family.

We needed to move. It had been seven years since my husband died from colorectal cancer, lying there in our bed overlooking the Pacific Ocean. My daughter and I needed to let go of that space and move forward.

We initially thought we were just going to find a different apartment in Honolulu where we lived. My daughter was attending a private school with a sprawling green campus. She was on the swim team. She acted in school plays. Staying would have been the easiest thing to do.

Then I thought about college. I had started to wonder how my daughter was going to go from her peaceful bubble to a mainland university in just two years. She had already shared with me that she didn’t want to continue her education in Hawaii. She didn’t love the weather, and she didn’t feel like she fit in. She had only lived in Alaska and Hawaii though, and I was concerned she didn’t really understand how much faster life can be on the mainland.

Seattle seemed like a good option

We were in Seattle in July 2024 when we made the decision to move there. My daughter had been attending camp in eastern Washington, as she had for the last several years. She usually spent a few days with my mom after camp, but a cold delayed our visit. My mom’s health is such that a cold is likely to turn serious. Instead, we were staying with my best friend. I gently raised the idea of moving to the area after a drive around the neighborhood. My daughter had never spent more than two weeks at a time in Washington, but she liked the idea almost immediately.

“What about school?” I asked. “Your classes? Theatre?”

“They have those in Seattle.” she said. “You like Hawaii more than I do. And it would be good to be closer to Oma.”

I was still nervous about the move

My daughter’s private school felt like a safe space to me. A place where I didn’t have to worry about what she might experience. I had gone to a public high school in suburban Washington, but that was years ago. I was scared of a big urban school where the teachers might not notice her, where she might feel lost.

Instead of indulging in my fears, though, I tried to frame the opportunity in a different way. I told my daughter something along the lines of, “When there are more students, it’s easier to find people you connect with. You find new ways of being. And, when you start somewhere completely new, you have the chance to reinvent yourself. You’re not automatically the girl whose dad died. You can choose whether or when to tell people.” Honestly, that might have helped me just as much as it helped her.

Reinvention seemed to appeal to her, so I bought her some Doc Martens and got her a good haircut. When I mention it now, she gives me a flat look and says, “I didn’t reinvent anything.” She likes who she is. She’s made friends because of who she is. She walks to the library. She plays “Dungeons & Dragons” with an after-school club. She and a friend took public transportation to their first protest (a city-wide high school protest about school lunch times). Most weekends, she’ll go to one of two local cafes where people recognize her. She fits in here and she’s happy, which is all a mother can hope for.

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