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Background information from Evert van den Akker.

Primary school.

Just like every toddler, I went to kindergarten from the age of four until the age of six. Cutting, pasting, playing (outdoors) and walking are the activities I still remember.
Afterwards I went to first grade of primary school. I was a "former pupil", this meant that I was in the classroom with children who were a year older than me. I was born on the 13th of September and if I had been born in October, I would have gone to school a year later. I was at the Groen van Prinstererschool at the Molenvijver in Rotterdam Schiebroek. In the first class I received my first punishment from Mrs. Boot. We always went to thank her at the end of the school day and of course I had to do this with "folded hands and closed eyes". Before praying, I had folded tracing paper and sat down on it. You use this paper in the language class to write letters and it had cracked tremendously. Because I couldn't sit still (even then), it cracked underneath me. Sneakily I looked through my pinched eyes and to my great shock the teacher looked me straight in the eyes. After the holy "Amen" she said after the prayer, I was told that I had to stay in detention. So pathetic, a 6 year old boy who was deprived of his freedom by an unfortunate situation. But well, the tone was set, because until I was 15 years old I learned what kind of punishments there are at school. Sweeping the schoolyard, detention, writing the rules of punishment, going to the headmaster, standing in front of the classroom or in the corner, in the corridor, cleaning up the classroom, beating, with the ruler on your hands, is a small selection from the Education Penalty Book.
In third grade, there was one teacher who could motivate me and I worked hard at it. At the beginning of the lesson she promised that if we would work hard, at the end of the lesson there would be time to read from "Pinkeltje" by Dick Laan. That was all that was needed to get me moving because there was almost smoke coming off my fountain pen with the prospect of "Pinkeltje", at that time my hero. Too bad that later on there were no teachers who were able to find my motivation button more often, who knows what would have become of me.

While I'm writing this, my report from primary school is next to me and it strikes me that I have limited talents in reading, writing and especially national history. Arithmetic, geography and gymnastics were scored better. School was not really my thing: playing outside and making mischief worked better for me.
If marbles and fighting in the schoolyard had been on the report, I might still have had some good grades. Playing marbles was great, especially because I had a trick to use clay under my shoes to pick marbles from children who were not paying attention.
Fighting outside in the schoolyard was a special activity for me. I was the second smallest of the class (Jan Max was smaller), but my legs were swift and strong. Fighting was also something I was good at and I had built up a nice reputation. Fighting in the schoolyard guaranteed a lot of public, usually a whole circle of pupils around the fighting boys, to encourage them. Once someone was stuck between my legs it was better to surrender. In other words, you asked the victor for mercy. Usually, before the fight was decided we were dragged into the school by one of the headmasters by our hair or clothes.
In sixth grade, for me, one of the most beautiful moments was when school hadn't started yet. On the field in front of the school, we had a game called "horse riding". The idea was to sit on someone's back and stay there as long as possible. The winner was the last couple standing. I was small and a lightweight and the biggest and toughest guys were waiting for me, shouting my name when they saw me coming from far away. "Evert, you come to me! Evert, please come on my back!". I had discovered how your weight and height could make you popular, and honestly, being small had more advantages to it than disadvantages.
Around my ninth year, I became interested in cooking dinner and at home, I was often allowed to help my mother prepare desserts on Sundays. My dream t to become a confectioner was born. Especially once I went with my father to visit our Uncle Leen, who had his own bakery in Schiedam, I was certain.
At the end of sixth grade, parents were given advice concerning the further education of their child. I didn't need that, because clearly wanted to go to the confectionary school. The advice my parents received from my school was to go to the MULO (advanced elementary education). I was so angry about this and blamed my parents for it. I'm sure they had my best interests at heart, but for years I experienced this differently.
The MULO was also one big drama for me. Here my feeling as a loser, sucker and a fool grew enormously.
I've been thinking: what if I had been previously test for Autism, ADD, ADHD, Dyslexia or anything whatsoever? Well, they didn't have these tests back then. And what if the compulsory education/truancy officer had existed back then? Just thinking about it, gives me the chills.

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