The Reality: Speaking English Isn’t Enough
“Your child will become fluent in English.”
Many people considering education migration probably have this image in mind.
I thought the same when I moved to Penang, Malaysia, three and a half years ago.
My eldest daughter, Hikari, was five, and my eldest son, Zen, was three.
I believed that attending an international school would naturally help them pick up English.
In reality, the children learned English surprisingly quickly.
Especially Hikari—within six months, she was chatting with teachers and friends in English.
I thought, “We’re safe now.”
But what they truly needed wasn’t just “English ability.”
I realized this painfully, triggered by an incident in our second year of living there.
The “Invisible Wall” Hikari Faced
One day, Hikari came home from school and said,
“Mom, today in group work, I couldn’t say anything.”
Hikari’s English was good enough.
Her vocabulary and grammar were on par with native kids her age.
But she couldn’t express her opinion in a group discussion.
When I asked why, she replied,
“I was afraid of making a mistake.”
This wasn’t an “English problem.”
It was a problem of “confidence” to assert her own thoughts in front of others.
In Japanese education, the focus is on finding the correct answer.
The value that making mistakes is shameful had unconsciously become ingrained in her.
The “Self-Expression Skills” Required at International Schools
At international schools, students are asked daily, “What’s your opinion?”
The ability to logically convey your own thoughts is valued more than finding a single correct answer.
At Hikari’s school, presentation classes start from first grade.
Topics are simple, like “favorite animal” or “what you did on the weekend,”
but students must explain in their own words “why they like it” or “how they felt.”
Being able to speak English and being able to express your own opinion are two different things.
This realization was a huge learning moment for me as well.
The Difference in “Persistence” I Saw in Zen
My eldest son, Zen, is the opposite of Hikari.
He’s quick to act and doesn’t worry about making mistakes.
But he had a different challenge:
“Giving up too easily.”
When a math problem got a little tough, he’d immediately say, “I don’t get it,” and stop.
Instead of asking the teacher, he’d give up before even trying to think it through.
His school teacher also pointed out, “Zen has a spirit of challenge, but he lacks persistence.”
This might be a common tendency among children raised in a Japanese educational environment.
What Parents Can Do to Cultivate “Grit”
In psychology, there’s a term called “GRIT.”
It refers to the ability to persistently work toward goals despite difficulties.
At international schools in Penang, education that cultivates this “grit” is emphasized.
They value the attitude of not fearing mistakes and trying again and again.
What I practice is, when my child fails at something,
I ask, “What could you do differently next time to make it work?”
Instead of giving the answer, I help them develop the habit of thinking for themselves.
A Parent’s Own “Mindset” Is Put to the Test
In fact, the biggest change required in education migration might be the parent’s mindset.
We Japanese have been taught from childhood that “reading the room” and “fitting in” are virtues.
But at international schools, “being yourself” is valued above all else.
At first, I was confused.
During parent observation days, I saw teachers ask students, “What do you think?” countless times.
In Japanese education, “listening quietly to the teacher” was considered good behavior.
Shifting from “Correct Answer-ism” to “Process-Oriented” Thinking
What surprised me about Malaysian education is its strong emphasis on the process.
Even if the answer is wrong, the thought process leading to it is evaluated.
At Hikari’s school, it’s not just about test scores.
They regularly have opportunities to explain “how they arrived at that answer.”
A culture of seeing mistakes not as “failures” but as “learning opportunities” is deeply rooted.
This way of thinking also changed my own values as a parent.
Even if my child doesn’t get a perfect score on a test, I now acknowledge and praise the effort they put into the process.
The “Real Effect” of Education Migration Appears Years Later
I’m often asked, “When will the effects of education migration show?”
It’s true that English ability visibly improves within three to six months.
But the truly important skills take much longer.
Self-expression, persistence, and an open heart to embrace diversity.
I feel these are nurtured little by little through daily school life.
Rather than worrying about exchange rates, it’s more important to have a long-term perspective on your child’s growth.
(As of May 22, 2026, 1 MYR = 40.04 JPY)
For Those Considering Migration
When thinking about education migration, it’s easy to focus only on improving English skills.
But what’s even more important is,
“Is this an environment where my child can gain the ability to live authentically as themselves?”
Life in Penang, Malaysia, is by no means an easy path.
There are many moments of confusion and worry.
Still, watching my children grow little by little,
I sincerely feel, “This choice wasn’t wrong.”
Education migration is not just an opportunity for children to grow—it’s a chance for the whole family to develop.
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