I’ve thought alot about this fiasco that was our International house guest for almost a year; not in an obsessive sort of manner, but an introspective look at the whole experience.
The first thing most people have asked me was “would you do it again?”
No.
There are two camps of people with regard to how to manage an exchange student. Some see themselves as an ambassador to our country, they welcome these students in their homes and turn them loose. The students live in their house, come and go as they please, meet up for a meal if everyone’s schedule allows for it, and pass like ships in the night. They take the agency’s philosophy that they are not responsible for the actions of their student to heart, and behave as such. I’ve heard of many cases where the host families would not actually see their students for days at a time.
I was in the other camp.
Our student was an underage child living in our home. I don’t care what it said on paper, my husband and I felt responsible for Bill. Where he was, who he was with, school, activities, basketball, staying out of the street and not getting hit by cars. Our expectations of Bill equaled that of our own children. He had the same rules they did, and was expected to let me know his plans and activities.
That wasn’t the hard part. Adding one more child to my mental list was easy.
What was difficult was having another person live in our home, but was not really part of the home/family. Bill did not want to assimilate to any American ways (which was suppose to be the point). I understood, especially in the beginning, it was probably strange for him to just join the family, plop down on the couch and hang out. Instead, he preferred to stay holed up in his room. However, he never grew out of that stage.
He didn’t like American television or movies; he complained about American food (with the exception of cheese and steak). He wasn’t interested in seeing the sights or going places. He declined our invitations to take him places. It was basketball or watching Chinese game shows on his Ipad. That grew tiresome.
He claimed countless times that coming to America was his idea, not something he was forced to do by his parents. I was never quire sure that I believed that, especially the first semester when he was doing so poorly in school. He did rally after several stern lectures from his teachers, and our continued stories about how important it was to put school work first.
He ended up with decent grades, a basketball team club and places to play basketball at his disposal. While he never grew out of rudely demanding things and treating us as if we were his servants, he did get a lot out of his time with us. The feedback from his Chinese agent was quite positive. She was pleased that Bill had starting speaking “less rudely” to her, and Bill himself told us that while he was back in China at Christmas, his parents remarked on his demeanor and found him to be more mature. As with anything, his improved maturity was relative.
Teaching Bill rules and expectations, and frankly, how to behave within a family, and society, is something that he will take with him for the rest of his life. Living with us for nine months, of course, will not have fundamental changes in who he is, but even the teachers at this school noticed a gradual positive improvement in his behavior. The largest lesson he learned from us was that his bad behavior had consequences.
My expectation of this experience was not met.
I envisioned welcoming a Chinese person into our home, and into our lives. I was hoping he would want to really get to know us, and let us know him. I imagined showing him our traditions and sharing experiences with him as he discovered our city. I imagined him getting to know our kids, and all of them becoming friends. Maybe even keeping in touch and visiting him over the years, and welcoming him back as he got older.
None of this took place.
To Bill, we were a pit stop. A hotel. Someplace to sleep and do laundry and drive him to school. The few times we insisted he accompany us on fun outings, or join us for family gatherings, he spent most of his time playing in his Ipad.
From what I gathered from other host families, this type of behavior was not uncommon. People who have hosted multiple years are well aware of this attitude and just accepted it.
For the risk that host families take (ie. the agency cannot be held responsible for damage to the host family property or home, or damage or injury to the family members if the student snaps and decides to harm someone or something), I did not feel it was worth it, especially on the note that our student left us. If he decided to destroy our home out of spite, he had the keys to the house, and the time alone when we were out to do so……that was just one more thing to worry about.
I thought maybe I would have issues having a stranger in our house, but physically having him around wasn’t a problem. He was no messier than any of my own kids, so that part didn’t bother me.
I knew we made the right decision in asking him to leave because almost immediately when he left, we all seemed to let out a deep breath and relax.
This is just one story. Our experience. I know many people have rewarding experiences hosting exchange students. I’ve heard of international students staying in touch with their host families 20 years down the road. Unfortunately, that was not to happen with Bill.
Now when we think back on this endeavor, all I can say is, “What were we thinking?”