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This mother wonders, “Aren’t those plus classes overshot?”

Puk (8) comes home sulking. She no longer wants to go to school on Thursday afternoons, because then there is ‘no butt’ in the classroom. At that moment, the nice children are all sitting in the hallway together. She wants that too. “What nice children?” I ask. “Well just,” sobs Puk, “Philippien, Mascha, Marloes, Victor, Lotte, Fenne, Klaas, Femke, Thijs, Sanne, Luna, Bo and Yara.” “But that’s about half of the class!” I exclaim. “What are they all doing there?” “They are relay runners and I am not”, she says now. “I also want to be a relay runner.” I give my daughter a hug and promise to find out what’s going on.

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Relay runners

Teacher explains it all to me patiently. Relay runners are the children who are so far ahead in reading that they are allowed to read independently in the hallway – in a kind of ‘plus group’. The rest of the class reads a book in class at that time, with everyone taking turns reading aloud. Puk is just not good enough to be a relay runner, but if she continues as she does now, she could well become a relay runner at the end of the school year.

“She’s a bit unlucky,” says teacher. “This year happens to have a lot of very good readers, normally there are far fewer.” She knows that Puk is in it and has tried to console her with the fact that she has recently been allowed to do three-star calculations – which is also quite an honor. Relay running? Three-star arithmetic? I had no idea it was all so important to my daughter.

Extra difficult sums

I tell Puk what the teacher explained. That she might be ready in a few months. And that I think it is nice for her that she has what it takes to become a relay runner, but that I really don’t have to. Because I don’t see the benefit of it.

What good is it for her to read her own book in the hallway with ten others if she can also receive lessons at that time, just in class? She can also read independently at home. I ask her about the math, because I understood from the teacher that it is something to be proud of. “Yes,” says Puk, “extra difficult sums that I can do when I have finished my weekly task. Together with Marloes. ” Marloes is the smartest girl in the class. She thinks it is cool that she can do those sums together with Marloes.

I don’t get to hear anything about the sums themselves, only about the fact that Marloes always finishes the work faster than she does. But weren’t those extra sums about stimulating the child, rather than who does what in class? Isn’t Puk a bit overly concerned with where she stands in relation to the others? Isn’t she too fanatic?

I ask the mother of Puk’s friend if her daughter has ever told you anything about relay runners and star sums. The monkey rock phenomenon also appears to have penetrated her. “Fien really wants to become a relay runner. That’s why she now reads half an hour a day. She is very sorry that she does not belong to the children in the hallway. ” Good. Puk turns out not to be the only one who feels ‘different’. Her girlfriend feels that too and is already serious about it.

Bad aftertaste

Relay running, three-star math, suns and moons. Yes, of course it is nice if children can develop at their own level. That they are challenged and are offered teaching material that suits their level. But it has an unwanted, nasty aftertaste: social status already exists. In group 5! If you are a thirst, then you are cool. If you are an ordinary relay reader, then you are the leftover bastard.

Very nice if you are a three-star with arithmetic, but if you are still an ordinary relay reader, apparently you have not quite passed and your self-confidence will still take a hit. Some children in the class already have a keen sense of who the ‘smart children’ are and who are not. That does not seem to me to be the intention of all those classifications. And I haven’t even mentioned the various plus classes that appear to be there.

Plus class

While those plus classes were once intended to help those few gifted children, the ‘plus class’ phenomenon now seems to have led to a proliferation of groups. For example, there also appears to be a separate math class that is given when the ‘normal’ children are taught English. Um, doesn’t that miss the mark?

I wonder if there are more schools where the idea of ​​the plus class or level learning has gone off the rails. What effect all those labels have on other kids, who may not be in the competitive vibe of our school. And so I ask mothers whose children are in other schools.

Annelies also turns out not to be a fan of performance-oriented primary school education: “Our oldest, now twelve, was taught according to the sun-moon-star system. He always shouted, “I’m a star and that’s not good.” The children felt they were an icon. Our boy became very insecure. As far as I’m concerned, this system can be thrown away. ”

Saskia’s son also faced insecurity. “Those plus / minus classes and the whole primary school system have annoyed me for ten years now. Our son is dyslexic and has always struggled with school. In eighth grade he cried every night, “I’m stupid, I can’t do anything.” All his friends were in plus classes, he in a minus class. His friends went to gymnasium, he went to VMBO. After a year in high school, I saw him thrive again and he got his security back, but school has always been a thing. He is now eighteen. He is doing well, but I am afraid he will always carry this with him. ”

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To be successful

Pluses and minuses, suns and stars: even if you score well with one and not the other, like my daughter, it creates the necessary uncertainty. With her BFF, it creates pressure to want to fit in. She no longer sits comfortably with a book in a corner, but reads because otherwise she misses the chance to become a relay runner. And I fear she is by no means an exception. On the internet I find stories that this pressure already starts with toddlers, who are constantly being tested for their skills, instead of being allowed to learn in a playful and calm manner.

Work hard, make a career, be successful. It is hammered in on all sides. We are all responsible for our success. Then it is logical that we want to prepare our children as well as possible for the society in which we live. The higher the scores of our children, the better the chances of good further education – and a good job.

We all want the best for our children. So then we better make sure that they stay up to date and that we get everything out of it at their level, right? But where there used to be perhaps one gifted child at school for whom extra teaching material was important for his or her development, we now all seem to be constantly testing, scaling, measuring, weighing and classifying children. Do a round of forums on the internet, the stories are flying around your ears. Of children with insecurities and all kinds of learning difficulties. From fear of failure, separate lessons, further training and coaching. Meanwhile, many children (and their parents) seem out of place at school. “Only if you fit exactly between the lines is the current school system good for a child,” writes a mother.

Not surprising that private primary schools are popping up like mushrooms. While there were 45 private schools in the Netherlands in 2010, there are now seventy. They differ greatly in terms of tuition and content, but the common denominator does seem to be that there is more attention for children. That it is not only looked at what level they have, but also who they are. As a human. With room for playful learning and discovering what you like. Instead of trying to ram everything into boxes as quickly as possible.

Equality

Our performance-oriented education is very much in keeping with our performance-oriented society, but our society is now undergoing a change. More and more people who never belonged are opening their mouths, demanding equal treatment and denouncing abuses. From Black Lives Matter to #metoo or a grumbling LGBT community, people are fighting for equality everywhere.

Isn’t it surprising then that we teach our children that they are equal when it comes to color or gender, but that we do make a clear distinction in how they perform in class? Wouldn’t we be better off making them feel safe? Have a good time? Doesn’t that curiosity and inquisitiveness follow automatically? Isn’t it just nicer to have a full class, where everyone is different and therefore equally important? The nerd with the big gamble, that one girlish boy who prefers to do Anna and Elsa dances and that one gifted girl who gets some extra teaching material because otherwise she will get bored of the skins? This does not mean that you regard everyone in the class as a weak, homogeneous mass, but that you do see everyone in the class as equal, or equal, to each other. Namely as the small, inquisitive people that they are.

Because as something that became clear to me during the past summer vacation, it is that everything starts with pleasure. When the pressure was off for Puk to want (or have to) become a relay runner or to be allowed or required to read at a certain level, I heard her laugh at the Donald Duck comics. Or them with that Donald Ducks will be a relay runner next year, I doubt. But so what? For the first time in months she is enjoying reading again and that is much more important to me.

Fun in learning, reading, discovering. Going on an adventure. Enjoy what you do, regardless of your level. I’m sure all of that will lead to better performance in the end. And for more confidence in your own abilities. Moon or relay? Nice and important. Well, as long as she keeps getting good grades, of course. Because her nagging mother may hate school systems that have gone wrong, she also knows: a smart girl is and will always be prepared for her future.

This article can be found in Kek Mama 01-2021.

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