Hosting Exchange Students

foreign kids who became family

This is a photo of my best friend, Silvia, and me taken six years ago.

Those who know me well also know Silvia and have probably met her at some point. To meet her is to love her. Unfortunately, it’s been almost two years now since I last saw her in person because in late 2020 her kidneys failed her, and for the past three years she has been on five-times-a-day peritoneal dialysis which severely limits her ability to travel very far from her home. I need to get back to Mexico to see her again like I did in late 2023.

The way that Silvia came into my life, though, is that she was the first of seven students I hosted in my home as exchange students. Six of those seven were for an entire school year, and one was a short summer stay.

Because I taught Spanish, I wanted to host a student from a Spanish-speaking country, and because I knew the student would be spending a lot of time with me, I felt more comfortable choosing a girl. I narrowed down the options and let my now ex-husband have the final say simply because he wasn’t on board with the idea at all. Because Silvia had included a photo of herself riding a horse on a beach in Mexico, he chose her, assuming she’d want to ride horses with him all the time. She did not, but I thank God every day that my selfish ex chose her over the other two possible girls I’d narrowed it down to.

Silvia was a joy to have around, and she quickly made many friends at school. She was inquisitive and wanted to fit in. Ironically, her mother had forced her to become an exchange student because she thought Silvia was naughty and needed to grow up, but I never had any problems with her — perhaps because I was, and still am, only 11 years older than Silvia and was a relatively new mom myself during the year Silvia lived with us, or perhaps because Silvia really isn’t naughty at all.

Sadly, I never got a chance to meet Silvia’s parents because they died in a car accident two years later. That tragedy, however, helped bind me closer to Silvia because I began visiting Mexico, and she would come here to visit, too. Over the years, our relationship changed from one of “host mom” and “student daughter” to one of friendship and then to one of tried-and-true deep friendship. It breaks my heart every day that life has dealt her a harsh blow with her kidneys, but she’s still the wonderful Silvia I came to love 28 years ago.

After hosting her, I had a daughter of my own, but I had so enjoyed hosting and wanted to do it again, this time with a student from Spain, so Carmen came into my life. Where Silvia was gregarious and quite fluent in English, Carmen was reserved and never really got the hang of our language the way she should have. She was easy to host because she rarely went out and she wasn’t demanding at all, but it made it hard to get to know her very well. I enjoyed having her around, though, and we have stayed in touch over the years. My daughter and I went to visit her and her own daughter and her parents outside of Madrid many years ago. That trip bonded us more than the entire year that Carmen lived here, and I really want to get back to see her again.

After Carmen, I wasn’t really planning to host again, but once you start doing it, the coordinator will keep calling, especially when there are so many kids who want to come here as exchange students and not enough host families. She wore me down, and I agreed to host again, this time a girl named Francesca from Italy. Fra, as everyone called her, had a hard time adjusting the first month, and she decided she wanted to go home before Christmas, but after a long heart-to-heart chat with her as well as the passage of time — that magical thing that heals everything if we let it — she changed her mind. She formed a strong friendship with a classmate and became more involved in school activities. At the end of the year, her parents and younger sister came to visit and to see parts of the United States. That was wonderful, and when my daughter and I went to Italy to see them years later, they welcomed us into their home as we’d welcomed Fra into ours. I stay in touch with Francesca and hope to get back to Italy one day — I’m working hard on improving my Italian for that very reason.

Since I really wasn’t planning on hosting again after Carmen, I did think that Francesca would be the last one, but then the coordinator contacted me and asked if I’d take a girl from Spain for a short summer stay. That seemed like an easy “yes” to provide, so Olga came to live with us for a few weeks. She was from Pamplona, but years later when my daughter and I went to visit Carmen, Olga was living in Madrid, so we also got to see her and to meet her father, too. Olga now lives in Calgary, Canada, with her boyfriend and baby daughter.

By this time, my son was in junior high, and he complained that we’d only hosted girls, and he wanted a “big brother,” so David from Germany came into our lives. What a hoot he was to have around! That boy could eat like no one else I’ve ever known. I had to stop buying Mountain Dew for my son because David became addicted — he’d never had it before, but once he tried it, he guzzled the stuff. Unlike the three girls before him who all gained a lot of weight during their times here, David didn’t gain an ounce. He had the metabolism of, well, I don’t know, but he ate so much food and never gained any weight. In fact, after he left, my grocery bill was cut in half. Half! He was one person, and there were four of us remaining here who ate less than he did. We laugh now about his eating, but back then it was strange and worrisome because I literally had to hide food from him if I expected to feed my own kids. He is now married with a daughter of his own and another child on the way, and during our regular chats on What’s App, he assures me repeatedly that he doesn’t eat like that anymore. I haven’t yet been to Germany to see him, but he did come back here once after his stay, and his father also visited at the end of David’s year. I want to get to Germany to see them both.

A few years went by, and I really thought my hosting was behind me. I divorced, and my son was in college. My daughter was heading into high school, so I wanted to focus on her, but then the coordinator came calling again. There was a girl from Germany who didn’t yet have a home, and time was running out. My daughter and I discussed it, and since she was only going to be a freshman and would still be new to high school, we decided to host one more time. Beatrice came to live with us, and she and my daughter hit it off well. Towards the end of her stay, though, Bea, as everyone called her, began to hang out with a boy who wasn’t good for her. I had a long talk with her and didn’t allow the boy in my house, but it was clear that she was smitten, and anyone who has every tried to talk sense into a teenage girl who is smitten with a bad boy knows that you might as well beat your head against a wall because you’re not getting anywhere with the girl. Fortunately, the school year was almost over, so she soon left to go back to Germany, but it put an unfortunate ending onto what had been a really good year, and it soured the friendship between my daughter and Bea. It also was a sign of Bea’s true spirit because not too many years later, we lost contact with Bea and haven’t heard anything at all from her since then. The last we knew, she had taken up with a man much older than her and they’d gone off to live in a hippie-type commune in Mexico. The bad boy she liked at the end of her year here later ended up in prison. I loved Bea, and I sincerely hope she is okay.

Prior to my daughter’s junior year, the coordinator reached out again and asked if we would simply be a welcoming temporary home for a boy from the Czech Republic while they worked to find him a permanent placement. The boy was due to arrive in a few days, and he had nowhere to go. I didn’t want to do it because it was a boy, and I didn’t want to have a boy in my house with my daughter, and I didn’t want to host again because I wanted to focus on her final couple years at home. However, I did agree to take him in for a week or two until they could find him a permanent place. His name was Jakub, and as soon as he arrived, I knew that he’d already found his permanent place. He was quiet, humble, polite, and a joy to have around. I didn’t have any qualms about him being in the same home as my daughter, and even though he “fell in love” with one of her friends at the end of the year, he’s since shown what I always knew about him, and he now has a boyfriend. He and my daughter forged close friendships with two seniors, two of her classmates, and a sophomore girl, and they dubbed themselves “The Fam,” and my basement family room became their hangout place of choice. It was a joy to hear them down there playing foosball, watching movies, playing the Wii, and just having good, clean fun. After my daughter graduated, we went on a school trip to Washington DC and New York City where we stayed longer and met up with Jakub, who had traveled there to see us and to see the architecture of NYC. He recently finished his architectural degree from a university in the UK. I enjoy his frequent Instagram posts showing photos of buildings he admires, and I look forward to visiting something he creates someday.

After Jakub, my daughter went into her senior year, and I told the coordinator that I was 100 percent done hosting. No summer stays. No “temporary” placements. Done. I’ve stuck to that ever since. At the start of each new school year, though, I do get the itch, but that time is behind me. Those seven kids were wonderful additions to my home, and all of them, except for Bea, are now adults who I consider my friends as well as family forever. Silvia has the special distinction of being my very best friend.

If you’ve ever considered hosting, I strongly recommend doing it at least once.

Until next time. If you’re a paying subscriber, keep reading for another portion of novel number eight. If you’re a free subscriber, upgrade now to read the portion and to access the other portions I’ve already shared.

Tammy Marshall

Here is more of “Distant Dedication.” Remember, this the rough first draft.