If ever there was a perfect counterpoint to my recent post here it is by Amy, an American student. Pop over and read her excellent poetry too.

The Wanderer

There are languages mixing like paint, moving in the air all around me. To my left, there are two tall fair haired teens speaking animatedly and excitedly in Japanese. To my right, French is spilling from other throats and the easygoing sunny lilt of the Portuguese tongue is everywhere. I was greeted in an excited shriek of rapid fire German, walking in the door. I’m not in a foreign country per se, but I’m in a room filled with exchange students, who have all come back to our tiny upstate New York district to share experiences from their year abroad.

By the end of the day, I can see everyone getting tired. For those most recently back, English is becoming difficult. I see the relief in one girl’s face, as one of the Rotary members comes over to talk to her about presentations in Portuguese. No more English, it’s too…

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