I have a dirty little secret: As I've enthusiastically shared my family's positive experiences hosting exchange students, I've received a few reports about others' less than ideal experiences. For example: One person said that her teenaged female exchange student arrived with a suitcase full of birth control devices and a one-tracked mind: Visiting Portland's downtown nightclubs. Apparently "under-aged clubbing" is the norm in the town she's from. Similarly, another person said that her female exchange student (around 14-years of age) was very flirtatious and had inappropriate physical boundaries with her college-aged son (she sat too close to him and tried to sit on his lap). Someone else said that their high school-aged exchange student lit up a cigarette in their house without asking, and another person said their college-aged exchange student told her own (grade school-aged) child to "shut up." Each one of these people said they would never host an exchange student again.Now granted, I haven't personally experienced these particular situations myself, but I do have to say that in each of these cases, when I heard the host parent explain their "exchange student horror story" (and that was how these stories were characterized), my reaction was that each of these situations were opportunities to learn about others' personal/cultural norms and to teach about our own personal/cultural norms. I realize I didn't have to "live through these experiences," and maybe I'm really missing the boat here, but I don't see the absolute horror in these stories.
I've traveled enough places to know that there are other cultures that are a lot less hung up about sex and sexuality than our culture. A quick visit to the post card section of just about any port town in Greece will illustrate (quite graphically) my point. Different cultures also have different needs for personal space, and different levels of tolerance for touch. Smoking is another area of distinction. I've dined in European cafes where the waiter had a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth when he brought plates of food to our table. Not my idea of appetizing.
Language can also be tricky. Important things really do get lost in the translation. I have to wonder if the family who had to endure their child being told to "shut up" merely missed an opportunity to educate their exchange student that that's an especially strong term in our culture. One of our exchange students had the habit of saying "I want to kill you," or "I'm going to kill you" to my kids. Those are strong words, but we soon realized that it was likely a routine phrasing of something he spoke/heard at home because we read similar references in the emails from his mom (e.g. "I told him I'd kill him if he doesn't behave himself"), and we've heard his grandmother use the term when we've Skyped with her. If this exchange student was going to attend school in our school system, I would have made a point to let him know that he should avoid that particular phrase, but I never did get around to mentioning it. I am curious what the equivalent phrase is in Spanish, and if it's used regularly in casual conversation, or if it's more of a "family thing."
We have had situations come up during our exchange experiences that other folks might have been bothered by. For example, one morning our exchange student stormed out of the bedroom he shared with my son. He was piping mad, and stomped down the hallway, muttering to himself in both English and Spanish. Apparently my son had tired of waiting for his "brother" to wake up (and with all due respect, it was past 10:00 AM), so he started doing noisy, annoying things. Pablo woke to the sound of my son belting out, "God Bless America." He was not amused.
In fact, he was in a grumpy funk off and on for most of the day. It finally came to a head when the boys were in the basement and my son refused to help with a clean up project they were supposed to do together (my son was too tired). Eventually Pablo stormed up the stairs to "tell on" on my son and to argue his case about how infuriating it was that now he was tired: "He wasn't tired this morning. No, he wants to sing all morning long. Now he's too tired to get our work done. . . " And that's when I knew that this kid genuinely felt at home. He was comfortable enough to show his emotions. Comfortable enough to protest the injustices bestowed upon him by his younger "brother," and confident enough to call upon "mom" for help. So I sent him back downstairs and told him this was a problem they needed to solve together. And before long they were rolling on the floor wrestling, and the house was filled with boisterous laughter once again.
