This time last year, I was standing on the forecourt of my son's French secondary school, hanging about with other parents. We were awaiting a busload of German kids due to arrive on an exchange visit.
Their bus rolled in and with worrying haste, their teacher found me out amid the throng. "I understand you're taking Christian," she said, in that jolly way Germans have when announcing utter catastrophe. "He's basically a good lad," she said. "But, well, his parents have asked me to ask you to keep his smoking and drinking under control. And, um, if you have a daughter you might like to consider locking her bedroom door ..."
Christian was thirteen-and-a-half. He looked charming. "Bonjour" said Christian. "Have you got a light?" This was, it transpired the only phrase he'd retained from four years of studying French, but my word, he used it well and often. Of the four words Christian added to his French vocabulary during his stay, only one was fit for mixed company. This was 'frites'.
Ah, but if they're not picking up language, they're certainly picking up culture...? Do me a favour! Christian evinced no interest at all in Places of Interest. He only perked up when we found a martial arts shop selling those spiky, star-shaped weapons that Oriental bad guys chuck about - and then went for a pizza.
So language exchanges are a waste of time, then? On reflection, perhaps not. Of course, in strict language terms, they're useless. But the kids seems to have a good time - it's pretty much the same good time they have back home: burger bars, pizzas, discos, cafes, and clothes shops. As far as Christian was concerned, France was in all important respects, identical to Germany... he made it that way ... but there are worse lessons to carry back across national frontiers.
