Japanese exchange student Yukiko

After all these years of writing, I thought I had a handle on the English language.
Then, while my husband was off helping my son remodel his home in New Orleans, I impetuously agreed to accept an Asian exchange student for the school year. She spent her first month in America at language school refining her American English.
At the airport I held a sign with her name on it at the exit gate and reminded myself to slow down and speak slowly, to use simple words and sentences.
She smiled at my sign, hitched up her back pack and we headed for the baggage carousels.
On the ride home. I pointed out the forests of southern Arkansas. She said she lived in a forested area. I asked if people went hunting in the forest. She did not understand. No one has guns in her country. “They are dangerous.”
I explained about hunting and the wild deer we might see alongside the road. She sat up and looked around, “Wild deer? I’ve never seen wild deer.” She did that evening – three ran safely across four lanes of busy highway.
I thought I empathized with her culture shock – after all a couple months ago I spent a week in Indonesia unable to understand any newspaper, book or television show, the clerks in the stores or the preacher at the church. I forgot that I traveled with my husband and son and hosts who were fluent in English who interpreted and intervened for us.
The exchange student has not had that luxury. She has had to immerse herself completely into a new culture, speak its language without any interpreters and study its history and literature.
The past couple weeks have been insightful. I have had to rethink common expressions and figure out ways to verbally define them.
One evening as headed to the car after a shopping trip, I asked, “Would you like a quick hamburger here in town, or would you like to go home and have leftovers?”
“What is leftovers?” her face was as puzzled as her voice.
“Oh, leftovers. Well that is when you eat supper and some of the food is not eaten. The food left in the serving bowl is put on the table again at another meal. That is leftovers.”
She said, “I want to go home.”
We went home. I served leftovers and emphasized the word again. She nodded and went to do her homework.
Homework has been a challenge. In grade school, my children were assigned simple crossword puzzles to reinforce vocabulary words. Our exchange student had never done a crossword puzzle. Helping her with homework that evening included demonstrating techniques for doing a crossword puzzle quickly.
We worked our way through two or three questions and I stepped back to allow her a chance to try on her own. I was glad I didn’t have to do the whole thing, but I stayed ready to help if she needed it.
Helping her with American Literature disturbed my mental cobwebs. The next time someone complains about how poorly the state’s students do on the standardized exams, have them sit down and read a high school literature book, answer a few questions or try to explain a concept like foreshadowing the conclusion of the short story. I tried hint, clue, insight, idea shown ahead of time. I tried to show how the conclusion was predictable with words, phrases and descriptions earlier in the story. In the end, it was the only question she left unanswered. Our cultural exchange failed that day, but don’t worry, I’m still working on it. Before this year is over we both will get a handle on the English language.