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All this can't help taxing the patience of the USIA, which never intended to get into the baby-sitting business in the first place. When two entrepreneurial au pair agencies approached the USIA in 1986 and asked that their programs be designated as a "cultural exchange" -- thus simplifying the au pair visa process -- the USIA agreed only to a two-year trial. That pilot convinced the USIA that the program was too work-oriented to be a true cultural exchange. But its repeated efforts to fob the program off on the Labor Department or have it killed outright have met with failure. While the USIA has no investigative or disciplinary authority to enforce its new rules, the eight agencies have great incentive to cooperate: the program comes up for congressional reauthorization in September. "We have a big club hanging over their heads," says USIA director Joseph Duffey. "Congress could close it down."
If the program is to survive, veteran au pairs and host families say, agencies must tighten up procedures all around. Although the brochures claim that applicants are carefully screened, au pairs commonly state that their references were never checked; some even boast about having had relatives write fake recommendations. Other common deceptions include hiding a smoking habit, lying about a driver's license or misrepresenting mastery of English. Kathy Farno, whose short-lived Swiss au pair arrived in Maryland with just 10 words of English, says the girl initially hid her language deficit "by having her sister do the writing" on the application.
Those applications, which showcase a candidate's strengths, don't hint at the problems she may be fleeing. LeAnn and Michael Kerr of Charlotte, North Carolina, initially thought they had found a dream companion for their two young daughters in Merete, 18. But after Merete settled in, she began to speak of family problems back home in Denmark that included emotional abuse. Over time, LeAnn noticed that Merete would grow very agitated and develop stomachaches after phoning home. In March 1993, nine months into her stay, Merete tried to kill herself with an overdose of pills. After Merete spent a week in the hospital, the Kerrs helped her return home. Last August they received a letter from Merete's mother. "It said, 'I'm sorry to inform you Merete is dead,' " says LeAnn. "It went on to say she walked in front of a train. I can't describe what I felt."
At the time of Merete's suicide attempt, the Kerrs ran into another common dilemma: the failure of agencies to step in when problems arise. LeAnn says the local counselor who was supposed to check in with Merete on a weekly basis "never called" and "never went to see her," even after the girl was hospitalized. Furious, LeAnn phoned the San Francisco headquarters of Merete's sponsoring agency, AuPairCare. "They gave her no support," LeAnn says. "They just wanted her to go home, and the problem would be done." Diane DuToit, the agency's program manager, counters that Merete "seemed very happy" until her departure time neared, and that the agency's local coordinator did pay a hospital visit.