I've Got Work to Do: Teaching in Amsterdam
What does this have to do with teaching, you ask? There was no school the last week In February because it was Crocus Week. They do have a lot of breaks from school (one is often "on holiday" here in the Netherlands). Luckily, the crocuses had checked the schedule, so they knew when to bloom.
Once a teacher, always a teacher? When I first announced to my teacher colleagues in New Jersey that I was considering moving to Amsterdam, they were unanimous in their glee. When I expressed my reservations about packing up and moving abroad, I heard comments like, "Can I go instead?" and "Are you crazy? Of course you have to go!" And once I let on that we were going to take the leap across the pond, I heard, "Can you squeeze me into your suitcase?" I don't think teachers, on the whole, are known for their reckless or even adventuresome spirits. Rather, we tend to be creatures of habit who like the comfort of doing what we did every day of our lives as kids. Is it any wonder we chose to make going to school a profession? After all, most of us were pretty good at it. I tend to think the envy I heard in my teacher colleagues' voices had everything to do with the sorry state of affairs in education these days. We were in the thick of new regulations on testing, and teacher evaluations, and were feeling the stranglehold of those two straps being tightened around our brains.
The move also coincided with a barrage of teacher-dissing, starting with the governor of our fine state of New Jersey, but seeping down into the regular folks at the grocery store and the pool. So it made sense - at least to me - that I decided to take a break from teaching when I first arrived. Would I miss it? Would I find something else I loved more? The truth is, I didn't miss it, at least at first. I was too busy getting settled, meeting new friends, and learning to speak Dutch.
Yet I always found myself peeking at the schools I passed by, wondering what it was like to be a teacher here. Is it like teaching in Finland? I have read a lot about how Finland treats their teachers like real professionals. Imagine that. Apparently, all of the students at the head of the class in Finland want to become teachers. And the salaries reflect the high regard in which teachers are held. Is it any wonder the students in Finland consistently score near the top of the world when compared to their peers in other countries? Recently, I have dipped a toe in the teaching waters by working twice a week at the International School of Amsterdam. More on that gig later. But first, a little background about the education system here, from my outsider-perspective.
From a child's point of view, the education system here is darn good. They don't get much homework at the elementary school (in Dutch basisschool) level, because parents and schools believe that kids should have a lot of free time to play. I see a lot of kids outside after school, playing hopscotch, kicking a soccer ball or knocking a field hockey ball around. Sadly, we just don't see much of that anymore in the New Jersey school district I taught in. Compulsory education begins at age five, but many kids go to school starting at age 4. Most Dutch elementary schools close at 12 or 12:30 p.m. on Wednesdays. That makes it hard for working parents, but what a gift that is for kids. You can see their happy faces in the bike lanes, in the cafés, and on the sidewalks on Wednesday afternoons. In general, I think kids here are given more free-range here than in the U.S.
This little guy seemed to be riding the #170 bus by himself. It's possible that the slighter older kid by the door was his brother and there did appear to be someone at the bus stop waiting to pick him up. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but think this would never happen in the U.S. I, myself, recently got over my fear of getting on a bus here. There were just too many questions: Where is the stop? Where do you pay? How will I know when I have reached my destination? Seeing a five-year-old riding a bus on his own tends to make your bus anxieties feel a little silly.
These gals on matching pink bikes were racing each other on the homestretch to the International School of Amsterdam. Might I also add that they were leaving me in the dust. I think they were in 2nd grade. I don't think there was an adult hovering over them, or in fact anywhere on the route to school.
In general, I think Dutch kids spend more time outside than their U.S. counterparts, even during the school day. Last year, I used to see one particularly energetic P.E. teacher and her class out running in Vondelpark. When their booty camp was finished, they got on their bikes, presumably to ride back to school. They didn't look too upset about the tough workout. I assume it was a P.E. teacher. If that was a math (or maths, as they say here) class, then I am jealous. I also saw one class out sweeping the sidewalk and picking up trash. You know that would never happen in the U.S. We are too busy with test prep.
I think Cinderella was surprised that I wanted to have a photographic record of Amsterdam school kids cleaning the sidewalks. Not pictured is the teacher who kept the troops in order, and reminded them to clean instead of just chat. I would like that job.
It turns out that the idea of giving kids time to play outdoors is not a new one. The concept of an open-air school began in the years leading up to WW II as a way to prevent the spread of tuberculosis. They were mostly built in areas outside the city, but this one is right in our neighborhood, Oud Zuid.
I can think of a lot of former students from the U.S. who would benefit from going to a school in which outdoor play is a big part of the school schedule. As the kid who was always begging the teacher, "Can we have class outside?", I would have loved this type of school.
There seem to be some interesting educational experiments going on in the Netherlands now. For example, there is this democratic school, where the kids decide how they want to spend their days. They use something called Nonviolent Communication there, and, according to the website, "hang out" with each other. Despite the "anything goes" vibe, I'm interested to see how this all works in practice. Hopefully, I can arrange a tour and will write a sequel to this blog post.
As in the U.S., the Netherlands is struggling with educational segregation. Unlike our system, where most kids go to school in their own neighborhood, and choice is available to relatively few families, parents here are free to choose which school their child attends. Apparently, this has led to "white" and black" schools, and the government is figuring out ways to help make the schools more integrated. So, sadly, our problem with segregated schools is theirs, too.
One area in which they are way ahead of us is in sex education. The media was all over the story of how sex ed starts in kindergarten in the Netherlands. Yes, and no. They do have a "Spring Fever" week focused on sex ed, and classes do begin in kindergarten. But they are learning in an age-appropriate way, not visiting the Red Light district. I'll climb up on my soap box and say that the teen pregnancy rate here is one of the lowest in the world, so I guess these kids are listening to their teachers.
As an outsider with a slim grasp of Dutch I would obviously not be able to teach at a Dutch school. That is why I am teaching instead at the International School of Amsterdam (ISA). Actually, the school is not located in Amsterdam at all. Instead, its nestled in Amstelveen, a quieter suburb located about a 35 minute bike ride away. It feels strange to be "subbing" after ten years of being the captain of my own ship. Imagine my surprise when I was called in for an interview to even become a sub. And that was only after I completed the voluminous paperwork required. As Peter is fond of saying when there is a lot of ado over issues, "They picked a pope with less fanfare." Being a sub, or "cover teacher" as it is known at ISA, is like babysitting for your sister's kids before you have your own. You're not the same grown-up the kids are used to, but you are "sort of" like the one they are used to. Or you're like the "and guest" (the "plus one") on an wedding invitation. No one really knows your name, and yet, you there you are at the party, right along with all the "real" guests.
At the British School of Amsterdam, they refer to subs as "supply teachers". That makes me think that teachers there are on the same level as pencils and highlighters, no more or less important. You might think, "What's in a name?" but maybe in this case, the kids are less likely to show respect to someone who matters as little as a post-it. Then again, the U.S. term sub is no better. It conjures up (at least for me) an image of sitting on the bench waiting to be called into the game...on a cold day in November. But not everyone suffers from those same long-ago lacrosse game traumas, so I guess the name isn't as painful for them. And speaking of names, some of the classes at ISA refer to their teachers by their first names. That took some getting used to.
While you wait for the school to call you in, it's like being in 6th grade and waiting for a boy you like to call you back (if memory serves). Actually, I'm not even sitting by the phone waiting for the call. Instead, Sheela, my "date" from the International School emails me: "Are you free Tuesday and Thursday?" Then my heart skips a beat (not really) and I bask in the glow of being able to teach a few days a week without spending what feels like every waking minute planning and preparing. I love being able to get some exercise by riding my bike for the thirty-five or so minutes it takes to get to the school. On the way home, I take the scenic route. I have to pinch myself to believe that this is really my life.
The school itself is a teacher's dream. Each grade level is clustered together like a village with a shared space in the village center for tables, bookcases filled with new books, and - for each grade level - amenities like a copy machine, and paper cutter. Sorry to bore all of my non-teacher friends with this minutiae, but the sheer abundance of supplies and the dreamy lay-out of the classrooms is just mind-boggling.
As you can see, a teacher's life at the International School is just a bit different than a teacher's life in the U.S., at least the life I led at my school. And what about a student's life? From what I have observed, that's quite different, too. Here are just a few of the differences I have noticed: each student at the elementary level has two recess periods a day. The cafeteria serves food that looks delicious. (And for the teachers, there is yet another coffee machine where you can make yourself a latte or a cappuccino. But I digress....). There are no standardized tests. Which means no test prep. Which explains the time for the two recess periods.
The Maplewood, N.J. teacher inside of me yearns for a world in which all kids go to school in a place that looks like the International School of Amsterdam. I understand that when resources are scarce, it's hard to justify spending them on physical resources like comfy chairs and puppet theaters and colorful shelves. On the other hand, I think there's something to be said for the broken windows theory when it comes to education. Basically, the theory says that when you see litter and "brokenness" around you, you are less likely to take care of your environment, and possibly even more likely to commit more serious crimes. When it comes to education, the theory says students whose physical surroundings are a disaster will soon "fit in" with their environment. The big boys and girls at Johns Hopkins said it so well: "The findings of the current study suggest that educators and researchers should be vigilant about factors that influence student perceptions of climate and safety. Fixing broken windows and attending to the physical appearance of a school cannot alone guarantee productive teaching and learning, but ignoring them likely greatly increases the chances of a troubling downward spiral." In addition to the books, and endless supplies, I wish all kids had access to the technology these kids do, and to teachers who have a morning together every Friday to plan and discuss (the kids start later each Friday). And did I mention the drama classes and Mindfulness workshops these kids have each week? Now I'll come down off my soapbox.
The student body at this school is also very different from what I am used to. In every classroom, I saw a bulletin board that looked something like the one below. What a wonderful opportunity these kids have to meet people from around the world. The optimist in me hopes that with more and more of these international schools around the world, kids will think the country where you are born is just another interesting thing to talk about, not a reason to hate each other.
I was surprised at how few of the students, at least in the classrooms I have taught in, are from the U.S. That meant there were few kids I could trade "Can you believe it?"/Donald Trump stories with.
With all of the traveling they do, and the exposure to different cultures, I think these kids seem more grown-up to me than the ones I taught in New Jersey. Here's a note that I found on the floor of a 2nd grade classroom when I was tidying up at the end of the day. She has, "always loved this guy"? Wait, she's in 2nd grade. And is Luke, the title of the note, the one she secretly loves? I have so many questions for this precocious second grader. So many.
I feel a certain connection to the kids at ISA who are from distant lands and struggling to learn English quickly. They're smart, but they can't always show it, since all the classes are taught in English. It's amazing how they deal with what must inevitably be a very frustrating life, at least until they catch up. They are inspiring to me. Just today, I heard two boys whispering in Russian. One was trying to help the other understand the directions on a math assessment. I'm still struggling to make myself understood in Dutch while ordering a sandwich in a restaurant. Bravo, boys! The students at international schools also have to learn to say goodbye over and over again. The kids have to pack up and move on when their parents do. It must be hard for them to manage the constant flow in and out of classrooms. And hard for teachers, too.
In addition to "guest teaching" (isn't that a better term?) I'm also tutoring two French children in English. Funny that even my rusty French - not used since I was in high school, except for the occasional resurfacing when we have gone to Paris - is better than my Dutch. What better way to teach an eight and a six-year-old that when it comes to learning a new language, you don't have to be perfect. You just have to try to muddle along and give it a go.
Last week, they were learning the names of jobs and what people who hold those job do. When we got to the job of "policeman" and I asked them what he or she does, they both responded, "A policeman helps people when there are terrorists in Brussels." How sad is that? What a world these kids live in. Luckily, the chocolate eggs I gave them for Easter cheered them right up. Too bad that won't work for all of us.
I think it's no accident that some of my closest friends here are teachers. They're not teaching now, but we still speak a common language. They know what it means to use your "teacher voice" even if the only "student" hearing them use it these days is their dogs. And just like teachers tend to figure out who we are - even when surrounded by people from all walks of life - so, too, do they stick together even when one of them is "on sabbatical". So teachers in the U.S., I do feel your pain when it comes to testing week, or early mornings after late-night parent-teacher conferences, or all of the plate-spinning you do to stay alive. I also feel your envy when I talk about my life here, and I wish I could have brought some of you along for the ride. One thing I can tell you is that I do miss that indescribable bond you have with a class, even if I certainly don't miss the indescribable amount of last-minute minutiae teachers have to attend to.
When you're a sub, its a little like being an understudy for a Broadway show. When that little scrap of paper floats out of the Playbill telling you the role usually played by Stockard Channing will be played by Suzanne Vine, your heart sinks, even if you try not to let it. That's how the students I teach these days must feel when they see me. Hopefully, by the end of the day, they have enjoyed the show just a little. Who knows what the future will bring me? For now, I'm enjoying the part-time gig. Perhaps the mountain of paperwork that ISA required wasn't such a mistake. I usually feel like I am being asked by absent teachers to teach in their stead, and not just pass out papers. Sometimes, I daydream about my school district calling to serenade me à la Boz Scaggs. Now that would be a dream come true!
"Go away, go away
Far away, so far away
It's too late to turn back now
And it don't matter anyhow
'Cause you were right, I'm to blame
I can't go on the same old way
Can't keep up the same old game."
And for my friends in Amsterdam, this song is for you. You can play it on the days I'm out teaching.