A few days ago, as we were walking home after classes, Alyssa realised that she had left her host mother's knife at the Dickinson Center's kitchen. After we returned and found it, I offered to carry it in my purse while she bought groceries so she wouldn't be seen carrying a large, rather menacing knife through the supermarket. (No need to scare the adorable French children accompanying their parents through the aisles if we don't have to.)
A couple of blocks away from my road, a shady looking man approached us. As we hurried past him, eager to avoid another encounter with a flirtatious middle aged sansabris (a story for another time - all I can say is that Alyssa does, in fact, have sparkling blue eyes), the knife slipped out of my purse and went spiraling onto the pavement.
I looked up with a start, shock written across my face as my eyes found a man across the street, hands waving in the air in a gesture of surrender and smiling like a Toulousain who'd watched faaar too many American Westerns. He laughed and watched Alyssa quickly recover the offending knife while I continued to stare dumbly.
So...add that to the (previously) innocuous list of reasons why one should not bring knives to school.