From the outside, the life of an international school teacher often looks like a dream — traveling the world, experiencing new cultures, teaching bright young minds in well-resourced classrooms. Many even imagine the picturesque life that follows: marrying a local partner, settling down in a European city, raising multilingual children, and perhaps buying a home.
But behind that carefully curated dream lies a stark, painful reality: the quiet abuse and disillusionment of teachers in international schools — particularly those who, once settled, find themselves unable to move freely or speak up about toxic leadership and mistreatment.
A Competitive Market, a Locked-In Life
The international school job market is highly competitive. For many teachers, especially those coming from outside Europe, landing a position often means years of preparation: obtaining a bachelor’s degree, securing a teaching license, gaining relevant experience, and sometimes relocating across the world for a single opportunity.
When these teachers fall in love with a place — or a person — they settle. They start families. They buy property. And with that stability comes a quiet vulnerability: their mobility vanishes.
Most European cities have only a handful of international schools. If you’re a teacher in Copenhagen, Milan, or Geneva, for example, and something goes wrong at your school, there are few — if any — alternatives. Leaving the school could mean uprooting your children, risking your visa status, or even facing financial ruin. This is the trap that many teachers fall into.
And that’s when the abuse begins to creep in.
The Culture of Silence and Gratitude
One of the most common things I hear from international teachers across Europe is this phrase: “We should just be grateful we have a job.”
This narrative, whether whispered in the staffroom or spoken directly by school leaders, creates a toxic culture where teachers are expected to endure mistreatment in silence. Poor management, micromanagement, inconsistent leadership, and unfair workloads are all brushed aside as things teachers must tolerate.
And because these teachers have so much to lose — their home, their family’s stability, their children’s education — most never speak up.
Fossilized Potential
In my visits to schools and my work with international educators, I also witness another disturbing trend: the fossilization of teacher potential.
Educators with rich experience and global insight are often kept in tightly controlled environments. Micromanaged to exhaustion, they lose their sense of agency, creativity, and joy. They’re stuck in roles that no longer challenge or fulfill them — yet they stay, because moving is not an option.
This kind of work culture doesn’t just hurt the teachers — it damages entire learning communities. Schools become places of survival, not growth.
The Leadership Paradox
There’s also a troubling paradox facing those teachers who’ve stepped into leadership roles. Once you’ve been a coordinator, head of department, or middle leader, you often become “unhireable” — not because of a lack of skill, but because new school leaders see you as a threat. They fear you might be coming for their job.
This prejudice, sadly, locks out some of the most capable educators from jobs they are more than qualified for, leaving them to either accept roles far beneath their experience level or exit the profession entirely.
A European Blind Spot
Finally, there’s the elephant in the room: the cultural disconnect between local European staff and international hires. Many European teachers enter the profession through a less competitive system. Often, the path to teaching is shorter, the job market more accessible, and career changes far easier.
They also benefit from strong national systems, union protections, and government support. In contrast, international school teachers must navigate dual systems — meeting both local legal requirements and the often demanding expectations of international curricula, all while appeasing high-paying, high-demand families.
What’s often missing is empathy. The international teaching world is tough — it demands rigor, flexibility, and sacrifice. It’s not just a job. For many, it’s a lifelong commitment that costs more than people realize.
The Cost of Staying Silent
The toll is immense. Beneath the polished Instagram posts and smiling classroom photos lies the slow decay of wellbeing. Passionate educators become exhausted adults, torn between a workplace that no longer respects them and a family life they’ve fought hard to build.
It’s time we started talking about this.
Let’s Start the Conversation
This blog is not a call to abandon international education. It’s a plea to make it better — to listen, to support, and to protect the very people who make international schools thrive: the teachers.
If you’re an international educator reading this and it resonates with you — know that you are not alone. Your experiences are valid. And your voice matters.
Let’s start having the conversations that matter. Let’s stop romanticizing a profession that is, for many, becoming unsustainable.
Ramazan Dicle 