Angelika Hello, my dears! As the year 1997 comes to an end, and Christmas is just around the corner, I want to delight you once again with a newsletter. Around this time last year, I started my first newsletter while sitting on moving boxes, and since then, I've been diligently reporting on our experiences here. Yes, it's hard to believe, but true, Michael has been here for over a year now, and I will celebrate my anniversary on December 30th. During this time, we've experienced quite a lot, gained new insights, learned a lot, and have become quite familiar with the country and its people. Hopefully, you're not horrified at the thought that we've turned into real Americans, whatever that means. No, don't worry, I don't walk around with red-painted fingernails, and Michael doesn't own a cowboy hat, just outrageously expensive sneakers that he loves to wear day and night (so, truly American). In general, if you live in California, you're not an American, but a Californian. Speaking of California, Thomas Gottschalk (yes, you read that right), who is known to live in Malibu, wrote a pretty funny article on this topic in Spiegel Spezial "California," from which I'll quickly quote a few lines:

Angelika It is both amusing and strange that most Americans set up their Christmas tree long before Christmas, many for example on the first Sunday of Advent. The tree is then decorated in all its glory. One could, of course, acknowledge without envy that setting up the tree early is quite practical, as you get to enjoy it for longer. However, we will still decorate our tree on December 24th. We will also celebrate on the 24th; here, Christmas is celebrated on the morning of the 25th. But we will adopt one American custom: here, people hang up a so-called stocking (imagine it as a large fabric boot), which is then filled with small gifts. The stocking is usually hung by the fireplace. If you don't have a fireplace, like us, another spot will do just fine.

Angelika My courses (photography course, course on African American families) were a complete success and enriched me greatly, bringing me a lot of joy. Both courses were at a high level and attended by very interesting people. I also had to work hard for the courses (literature study, final photography project, thesis on working with African American families), which earned me the title of "overachiever" from Michael. The photography course was structured in such a way that we had to tackle a different task each session, which was discussed in class beforehand (e.g., portrait photography, night photography). The following week, we would look at and discuss the photos together. So, I spent a lot of time with my camera in San Francisco. Michael often had to accompany me, which he did without much grumbling. It was only when he was supposed to be my subject for the portrait photos that he protested. I then photographed the children from my facility. To do justice to the photography course, we, of course, took the photo for our Christmas card ourselves.

Angelika At my classes, I met an American therapist who, in turn, knew a school principal in Oakland (a city on the other side of the Bay) and wanted to connect me as a volunteer. So, I had the opportunity to visit a middle school. Middle school corresponds to grades 6 through 9. The school was again in a rather run-down and poor area. I observed in a class with students aged 10 to 12 years. More than half of the students did not speak English as their first language, and a third had additional learning difficulties. Most of the students were black or immigrants from South America. By the way, this is a very realistic picture of a public school in a poor neighborhood. Since these schools usually do not have the best reputation, more affluent American parents (mostly white) send their children to private schools. This creates a real vicious cycle: if you are poor, you can only afford a public school, and if you live in a bad area, the school is usually correspondingly bad because the necessary resources are lacking. Critical voices claim that some schools in the USA are subject to segregation similar to what was once found in South Africa.

Angelika And now I would like to provide you with some local information:

Angelika And the best joke at the end: I still haven't received my American driver's license. I've been waiting for almost a year now. After having to go to the DMV in San Francisco two more times to show my papers and finally having it clear that everything is in perfect order, meaning that I am completely legal in the country, I received another letter from Sacramento, this time stating that my photo could not be found. So, I trotted to the DMV for the third time, had the photo taken, and am patiently waiting again. However, I am now sure that I won't have to take the driving test again because it's not my fault for the mess. By the way, the manager of the DMV, with whom I eventually spoke, revealed to me that he has a case where the person has been waiting for their driver's license since 1995. I'll probably receive it just before our move to Germany. So be it.

Michael Christmas tree, Christmas tree, Christmas tree. I can't stand hearing it anymore! First, you drag a green monster into the house, and just touching the prickly trunk feels disgusting! And after a week, when all the magic is over, you throw it out. Crunch, crunch, crunch, go the needles in the vacuum cleaner. It's quite an ordeal.

Michael I'm still riding my bike to work every day, and my old bike has been wheezing heavily, brrr, brrr, good old thing. The rain has stayed away so far, and "El Nino," a much-cited weather phenomenon, is turning out to be a figment of the imagination of underemployed TV weather guys.