Little Steps to the Basisschool

If you are living in the Netherlands your child can start attending primary school at the age of four. All three of my children are now in various stages of primary school but for each one of them making the leap from peuterspeelzaal to the basisschool was a big one. So here's my story about how we tried to make it easier.

How Two Peuterspeelzaal Teachers Changed How I Parent My Sons

I am the mother of three highly sensitive sons. I myself am highly sensitive. I learnt this fact because of amazing teachers at my eldest son's peuterspeelzaal. They recognised traits and behaviours in him at the age of three that are consistent with being highly sensitive.

Goodbyes in school were heart wrenching for him from day one. It took months for him to get used to being left in school. And because it was such an emotional hurdle for him, it was incredibly upsetting for me too. No parent likes to leave a child anywhere when they are crying, kicking out and obviously feeling lost.

However, as the weeks went by it took my son less and less time to 'recover' from me leaving him in the peuterspeelzaal. I had immense faith in his teachers that he would be okay once I was gone. And if he wasn't they would call me.

One day, when my husband picked my son up from school, everything changed for my little family because two Dutch teachers did their job exceptionally and they took the time to really see my son. They uttered the words 'highly sensitive'.  It was the start of a parenting journey that I am still on. It's the reason why Happy Sensitive Kids was born. The reason why the peuterspeelzaal will always have a place in my heart, even though all my boys are now in primary school.

"The term ‘highly sensitive’ meant nothing to me six years ago, back when I was the bewildered mother of a three-year-old boy who seemed unable to tolerate the world around him."

You can read the whole story over on Mamalode: The Day I Became the Mother My Sons Need Me to Be.

Wednesday Afternoons for a Primary School Child - Dutch Style

In primary schools in the Netherlands children are off school every Wednesday afternoon. The idea is that it gives children time to do extra-curricular activities without cramming every afternoon after school full. 

Or they get together with school friends and play on the streets, build dens in the local park, clamber around in the mud and fall in the shallow sloot in shoes they've owned for less than two weeks...... and this expat mama wouldn't have it any other way! (Though my son will be paying for his next pair of shoes himself......) 

I am extremely grateful for Wednesday afternoons Dutch style.

The Sinterklaas School 'Surprise'

This year, for the first time, the Sinterklaas 'surprise' has made an appearance in our home. My eldest is in group 5 which means he gets to make (and also receive) a surprise for (and from) a classmate.

It's simple. He buys a present up to the value of €5 and then hides it in a surprise that he makes based on what his classmate has written as their hobbies and interests. So if his classmate has written she loves singing he makes a microphone out of toilet rolls and sticky back plastic. That sort of thing.

So far, so good right? Except that asking an eight year old to build, make or create something from scratch based on a few words (some of which his parents can't even read, let alone my son) is a tall order. There's been a lot of sighing, huffing and puffing and mutterings of, "ik weet het niet". And this is year one, with only one child doing surprises.

You can imagine how excited I am at the thought of future years when I have three sons huffing, puffing and declaring they have no idea where to begin.

Imagine my further dismay when I read Ashleigh's story on Amsterdam Mamas. Then it suddenly dawned on me that I have seen the upper school's class display's of Sinterklaas surprises in previous years. And they are not shoddy. A lot of effort goes into them. A lot of effort from people I am sure are well beyond the age of eight years old. (See my Sinterklaas Pinterest board to see what I mean!)

Remind me to clear the family calendar for two weeks before pakjesavond in future years.... I'm off to raid our recycling bins......

I would love to hear tips, advice and stories from you. Especially from you experienced Dutch parents! What's the golden tip for dealing with this 'surprise' thing?

Starting School in the Netherlands - Little Steps to the Basisschool

As I mentioned in a previous post all of my children are now of school going age. *Gulp* As soon as a child turns four they may start attending primary school in the Netherlands - a big step for such a little person.

"There have been tears. There have been bursts of anger because he doesn’t want to go to a new school. Through the eyes of my highly sensitive three year old all that change is bad, scary. 

“Te spannend!” he shouts through his tears."

For my youngest it was a bigger step than he could handle in one go, so we broke the transition up into baby steps to help him get used to going to school every day. We're still busy with that transition, but so far, so good.

You can read more in my latest article, Little Steps to the Basisschool, written for Passionate Parenting, which shares how we have dealt with the latest big change to hit our family as well as tips and info about starting school in the Netherlands.

Dutch Primary Schools Lag Behind with Foreign Language Teaching

Platform Onderwijs2032 is looking at the future of the education system in the Netherlands. One of the conclusions drawn from their work to date is that English should be taught from group 1, from the start of a child's school journey.

According to an article on Expatica, just over half of Dutch children are taught a second language in primary school. This falls below the European average.

The government is busy with measures to rectify this situation. It is well acknowledged that children learn languages more easily from a younger age. The reality though is that many of them are not formally introduced to a second language until they are in secondary school.

It's a story that surprised me when I first read it. Lagging behind in foreign language teaching and the Dutch isn't something that struck me as going hand in hand. Let's be clear, the Dutch, on the whole, have excellent foreign language skills. Most of the population can hold a decent conversation in English.

"Amongst nations where English is considered the best-known foreign tongue, the study noted that the Netherlands also had a high proportion of working-age adults "proficient" in the language (36 per cent). This places the Dutch fourth in Europe, with only Malta, Sweden and Cyprus boasting more proficient English speakers. An additional 45 per cent of Dutch adults rated themselves as "good" speakers of English. This means that over 80 per cent of the Netherlands' working population has good English skills" 

(Taken from a 2013 I Am Expat article)

But the content of the Expatica article certainly doesn't contradict my own personal experience with three children in primary school.

My eldest son is in group 5, is eight years old, but as yet has had no formal second language lessons in school. My youngest son recently had a morning of singing English songs, and my middle son has had exposure to a few words of English vocabulary in the classroom. Their English skills are certainly not attributable to their hours in school.

However, they have classmates who are also adept at speaking some English despite not having the benefit of a British mother as my sons do. There are many five year old walking the school corridors with more than a sprinkling of English vocabulary - picked up from their parents, radio and TV. There is exposure to English outside the classroom, even if it is minimal. (I'm pretty sure you'd be hard pressed to find an eight year old who doesn't know the word shit for example...)

The debate at the moment is about the teaching of a second language at primary school level, not about the overall ability of the Dutch to speak foreign languages. Somewhere along the way it comes good. There's no mistake about that - something echoed by the Dutch respondents on my Facebook page to this issue.

My only concern is that if English was taught to the Dutch from group 1 by the time they reach adulthood their English would be more proficient than the English language skills of most English people.......

So over to you: at what age do children start earning a second language in school where you are? What language(s) do they learn? At what age do you think children should start learning languages in school?

Times, They're a Changing: More Writer, Less Mother?

This week my youngest son turned four. Four. That means he gets to go out into the big, wide world on his own. Well, it means he starts primary school. It's a bittersweet moment. It means my role will change. It will be the first time in nearly nine years that I will have been at home during the week without any children around me. My sons will continue to come home at lunchtime from school and for a little while at least my youngest will be home in the afternoons whilst he builds up his school hours to full-time.

But it's a big change for me. As a mother. As a writer. Hours suddenly open up to me to work more. The projects I have been planning and scheming for the past few years may actually come to fruition. More time to get out and about. More time to work in locations other than my home. 

And as if by magic I received an email from Scaramanga* asking if I would like to take a peek at one of their bags. After squealing a little with delight (shoes I can take or leave, but bags....whole different story!) I realised that the request was perfect timing. I was on the look out for a 'work' bag, one to carry my laptop, countless pages of incoherent notes that come to me as ideas for blog posts, articles and book chapter ideas and all the other things I lug around simply because I have three children.

The large messenger bag I picked out turned to be the perfect choice. Last weekend all five of us headed to the beach to blow the cobwebs away. Through September one son after another has fallen ill with one virus or another, and then head colds hit me and my husband. We needed to get out and get some good sea air in our lungs so we headed to Wassesnaarseslag. 

I loaded up my beautiful bag with my folders and notes, a notepad, my copy of The Whole-Brain Child book I'm currently reading (which I thoroughly recommend!), pens and the bits and pieces that always sit in my bag. There's plenty of space for everything I could possibly want to take out with me. I planned a bit of writing and reading whilst the boys dug up the beach, as they are prone to do when they get anywhere near the sand.

We had a great few hours. We left home wearing coats, jumpers and even a scarf or two as the weather was cloudy and a bit chilly. By the time we headed home the boys were stripped down to their t-shirts. And their jumpers and scarves? Yep, tucked away safely in my bag........... 

The hours I have to write may be on the rise, but there's no changing the fact that I'm first a mother, second a writer. And I wouldn't have it any other way. 

*I received a free bag of my choice from Scaramanga in exchange for a review on this blog. All views are my own.

An Expat Guide to the Dutch Avond4daagse

Last week my family walked the avond4daagse for the first time. For those of you who have never had the pleasure, but are bursting to know what exactly an avond4daagse entails, here's the low down.

Here are all the answers to the burning questions you could possibly ever have about this annual quintessential Dutch event.

Q. What is the avond4daagse?
A. It's basically a community walk that takes place over four evenings. Thousands of children and some of their teachers and parents walk either 5, 10 or 15 kilometers per evening. The majority opt to shuffle along behind each other for 5 kilometers so that children actually get to bed before midnight. It is worth noting that because of the sheer volume of bodies moving in the same direction at one time it feels like you walk at least twice the 5km distance.

Note that many children are accompanied by one parent whilst the sane one enjoys the peace and quiet at home.

Q. Who takes part in the avond4daagse?
A. Schools, families, sports clubs, walking groups, random people and their dogs.

Q.  What's the point of the avond4daagse?
A. The idea is to be the first one from your school to reach the finish point, dodging and weaving your way through the crowds; anything goes to get ahead so long as you don't run or injure more than 3 other people along the route.

Of course that is not in the slightest bit true but at times felt like it was indeed the case. The real purpose is 'gezelligheid". What else would it be living in the land of the Dutch? A lovely walk after dinner with a few thousand strangers is gezellig right? That, and promote exercise.

Q. How much does it cost?
A. Now let's get down to the nitty gritty. If you have been in any way Dutchified since living in the Netherlands you'll want to know about the financial side of it. It's NOT gratis. We paid five euro each but I have no idea if that is a standard charge.

Q. So, I hear you cry, what do I get for my money, apart from gezelligheid of course?
A. You get a drink and something to eat at the half way point provided by the school you signed up with. You get a bag with a few snacks, vouchers, a cap, badge and stickers on your first day and on the last day you get a medal. Plus an amount goes to a local charity. Well, that's how it worked for us. It's possible that each school and council arrange it differently.

Q. How did this avond4daagse lark start?
It's an offspring of the Nijmegen 4 day international marches. In 1940, the Nijmegen march didn't take place because of the mobilization of Dutch troops. As a result there were lots of restless walkers milling about in het Gooi. Some bright sparks therefore decided to throw together an evening walk spread over four days in het Gooi and before anyone could say, "This reminds me of that Forrest Gump movie," the idea had spread far and wide. In the Netherlands at least.

Q. Is it fun?
A. Is the Pope Catholic? Are the Dutch gezellig? Of course it's fun. Why the hell would thousands of people in one town alone do it if it wan't fun? Moving along...

Q. I'm not a fast walker. Can I still take part in an avond4daagse?
A. We watched snails overtake us. There were numerous near misses as tortoises hurtled by the walking masses. So yes, slow walkers can join in.

Q. Do I have to scream in every tunnel or subway I walk under?
A. It's only obligatory if you are under ten years of age. Ear plugs are handy for accompanying parents and teachers.

Q. If I suffer from hayfever will I be able to walk the avond4dagse?

A. I won't lie. In places the hayfever was dehabilitating. The sneezes came hard and fast one after another as we walked alongside high grasses next to sloot after sloot as the spring evening descended. The sneezing coupled with the fact I've birthed three children and every evening spontaneously needed the toilet almost as soon as we were given the 'go' to start walking, made the avondvierdagse a bit of an extreme sport for me personally. Fortunately, I'm sure non- hayfever sufferers had a very different experience. 

Q. Can I walk the avondvierdagse with a pram?

A. Yes. As long as you are trained to the black belt equivalent in pram manoeuvrings. You'll need to be ruthless whilst refraining from resorting to out and out attacks on those who step over your pram WITH YOUR CHILD IN IT in order to get ahead or catch up with schoolmates/family/strays/their dog on a long lead. 

Q. Are the roads/ cycle paths closed off to traffic during the avond4dagse?

A. In some towns they are. In Zoetermeer they weren't. Again, I'll be honest. There's a risk element to walking the avond4dagse: will I/won't I get hit by a car/angry cyclist/motorbike/oblivious brommer demon? Depending on your outlook on life this can be attractive.

Q. Aren't the kids a little tired as the week goes on?
A. They are knackered. Late to bed, school all day and then a 5km walk. Four days long. Tired isn't the word. I'd use words like: Grumpy, short-fused, chagrijnig, unreasonable, uncooperative and reluctant to get out of bed each morning. But the avond4daagse is gezellig right?

Q. Do crowds line the finish point on the last night adorned with flowers and sweets for the children who have completed their four evenings of walks?
A. Why yes they do. Some children had more bouquets of sweets given to them as a reward for walking 20 km in four evenings than my children have seen in their short lives so far. Nothing says well done for getting all that exercise this week like a couple of kilos of snoepjes.

Q. Would you do it again next year?
A. Absolutely. In a heartbeat.

So there you have it - the avond4daagse. Having completed my first one, and having received a medal for my efforts I am feeling truly smug - and now truly ingeburgerd.

Expat Life and The Lost Art of Comparison

I have been living in the Netherlands so long now that I can no longer accurately compare life here with life in Britain. I have been walloped with that realisation a few times over the last few months.

Most vividly recently was during an interview for the LiHSK (the Dutch national organisation for Highly Sensitive Children). I was asked about schooling in Britain and the only personal experience I can refer to is my own schooling. And believe me, that was a long time ago. A long, long time ago.

I had it a lot during my three pregnancies too when people asked about the maternity system in the UK. I cannot talk about that from personal experience either. All three of my sons have been born in the Netherlands. I can tell you everything you'd care to know about the Dutch maternity system but ask me about the English one and I will falter.

When I first landed on Dutch soil I spent more time than I care to think about now comparing my new life here to the one I had left behind.

"You wouldn't see that in England," I would mutter time and time again. "THAT would never happen in England," I'd say to the Dutchies in my life.

And then, although I'm not sure when exactly, it stopped. It's not something I consciously did. I came out the other end of culture shock and it just stopped. I started living in the now. I adapted to how things are done here in the Netherlands. I stopped thinking about how it would be done in Britain. I stopped seeing things as 'wrong' here and 'right' there. I just started doing things like they are done here. Except birthday parties - there are always limits.

And now I realise that my life in Britain is so far behind me I couldn't compare it to my life here and now even if I wanted to. I have no idea about the nitty gritty of life in Britain to be honest. I watch the  BBC news regularly (so yes I know there is a general election coming up, that the live TV debates set up was a fiasco and that Nigel Farage is a dick) but the details of real life are lost to me. I can no longer compare the Dutch way to the British way.

Well, except in the realm of health and safety. When it comes to health and safety I can still often be uttering that a (life threatening or at the very least mildly dangerous like this) situation I come across here in the Netherlands would never happen in Britain. But now I don't mean it in quite such a positive way as I did fifteen years ago.......

Do you still compare your passport country to the country you now call home? Is it in a positive or negative way?

1 April Kikker in Je Bil

For those of you following the blog on Facebook you will know that my children brought home a letter yesterday afternoon from school. This is the result:

Some played along. Some were oblivious to the fact that it is 1 April today. In any case entering the school building this morning was amusing! The teachers all had their own toilet roll tied around their waist too or prominently on their desks......

We also played a few jokes on the children this morning (frozen milk in their beakers being the best) so everyone has gone off to school in good humour.

If you want to know a little more about April Fool's traditions around the world Trilingual Mama has written just the blog post for you.

Have a great April 1st but watch out for that kikker in je bil, die niet meer uit wil!

Traktaties - How to Do Birthdays Dutch Style

Wednesday is my birthday which, if I was to celebrate in true Dutch style, would mean having you all over to my house to sit in a circle on borrowed chairs to drink coffee and eat soggy crackers with filet americain spread lightly upon them. Lucky for you I don't roll like that. 

However, there is another tradition which the Dutch employ to celebrate een verjaardag which is far less painful than the dreaded birthday circle and that is the traktatie. In essence, that means that I bring in something lekker for my work colleagues to scoff, or my school classmates.

And the good thing about living among the Dutch is that you can take a pretty laid back attitude to what you bring in, and when you bring it in. I'm sure that there are competitive parents out there in the Netherlands, and I am sure there are Judgy van Judgesons out there too - but I am lucky enough to never have crossed paths with any of them.

My children have come home with anything and everything as traktaties from classmate's birthdays over the years, from simple to intricate to imaginative. We've had the 'bag of crisps' treat (more than once), we've had a pencil, eraser and balloon and we've had dolphins made with a banana and hot air balloons filled with popcorn.

And over the years I've also had to put my fair share of traktaties together - three sons make for some serious work over the course of a year. It's not just birthdays that require a traktatie - it's the birth of a baby or leaving a school too. So here's a few I made earlier......

So, tip number 4 for #LiveLikeaDutchie is if there's a birthday in your house don't forget the traktatie!

Are your children's birthdays celebrated in their class? Do you mark your birthday in your work place? How? I would love to hear how birthdays are marked where you live!

My Love Hate Relationship with Sinterklaas

Let's get one thing straight - fourteen years ago Sinterklaas was a non-entity in my life. For a few years after that I saw him coming and going, getting on with his business but leaving me in peace.

Then one day, when my eldest son was a couple of years old, Sinterklaas and his staf suddenly invaded my home. He came in uninvited and practically put his feet up on my sofa for weeks on end. And he's done it every year since.

A first I didn't have feelings for him one way or another. Then another of my children reached "I get Sinterklaas" age in my home and my eldest was fully initiated in primary school.

What that means, for those of you whose children are not yet of school going age, is this:

• Sinterklaasjournaal every day. Every sodding day. Every day here at home and in school. The boys insisted on it - and we, as caring, loving parents, also had to know what was going on so we could throw ourselves in to the storyline (read: wind our own kids up by being in cahoots with the entire Dutch nation with one disaster or another to befall Sinterklaas, his boat, his horse or, horror of horrors, the presents).

• A house full of Sinterklaas knutsels. The first year when my son brought home a Piet muts he'd made in the peuterspeelzaal I cooed and ahhhed, like all good mothers do. Six years later and more homemade Piet and Sinterklaas hats, drawings, sacks and paper shoes than any sane person would know what to do with I'm done. Spare me. My house is one big cluttered paper mess. The drawings are beautiful, everything they have made has been lovingly put together and crafted and oh, my boys are so proud. It melts my heart. But stop already. 

• A house full of little people who are literally bouncing off and climbing up the walls in excitement. Not just for a day. Not even a week. But weeks. Plural. The moment the man in red arrives on Dutch shores the craziness begins. My house and every Dutch school classroom turns in to a sugar induced lunatic asylum with kids bouncing off each other counting down the days until they get their presents, and Sinterklaas clears off back to Spain leaving us to clear up his mess. 

• It means singing. A lot of singing. Now, I'm all for a good sing song. I'll croon away with the best of them. But Sinterklaas songs get tedious sang at the top of a child's voice for weeks on end. There are many Sinterklaas songs but there are only three that stick in any child's mind. Sinterklaas bloody kapoentje. Zwarte Piet ging uit fietsen and Sinterklaas is jarig, zet hem op de pot. The last song is sung in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. And the worst thing is that whilst I am trying to ingrain beautiful Christmas carols in to my sons once Sinterklaas has toddled back off to Spain, they are still singing Sinterklaas bloody kapoentje. It's around May when they finally stop.

So that's how the Sinterklaas celebration looks when your children start primary school. Seriously, count your blessings if your offspring is yet to turn four. 

On the other hand….. who could not be charmed by the excitement of three little boys whose whole world for a couple of weeks a year revolves around a fantasy? The enthusiasm they have for Sinterklaas and his band of helpers is like nothing else. When my four year old is telling me what happened in the latest Sinterklaasjournaal he is literally jumping up and down whilst talking. Who can't love the innocence of uncontainable excitement? When do we, as adults, ever get to experience such enthusiasm? 

The thrill of pakjesavond for children is immeasurable, waiting for a knock on the door, a gloved hand around the door throwing sweets at them and then….. the grand finale, the moment they have waited weeks for - the sack of presents left in the hall. And it's not about what is in those sacks left behind. It's the magic that those many sacks scattered across the Netherlands represent. A magic that only a child gets. Only a child can experience. That feeling of being so excited you feel like you could burst. And that's what I love about Sinterklaas. That's why I contain my feelings of resentment when he bursts in to my home in November, puts his feet up on my sofa and makes himself cosy until the 6th of December. For my children, who after all is what Sinterklaas is all about. 

So, however and wherever you are celebrating pakjesavond tomorrow enjoy your evening. Enjoy the moments of joy and excitement of your children, enjoy the family time - but know that I'll be the first in line to wave the good man off on Saturday morning……..

6 Reasons I'm Happy I'm Raising Children in the Netherlands

I live in a country where children generally fare well in happiness surveys and Dutch children always rate much higher in the happiness stakes than British children ever do.

It's no coincidence that the Dutch shine through in reports such as the UN's World Happiness Report. From what I see around me, the Dutch work consciously to raise happy, healthy, independent children* and I consider myself lucky to be raising three children here.

So, for the record, here are my six reasons why I'm happy I'm raising my children in the Netherlands.

1. School Allows Children to be Children

Dutch children are allowed to concentrate on what they do best: they are given plenty of time for the important job of play. Even though the majority of Dutch children start school at the age of 4 (though not mandatory until age 5) the theme running through their days remains 'play'. They learn through play (spelenderwijs leren) and only when they start in group 3 (when they are 6 or 7) is there any pressure on them to formally start reading and writing. The foundation is laid in the earlier school years whilst there are no expectations of them. By the time they reach group 3 most children have learnt the basics of reading and writing in a playful, 'no pressure' manner.

My experience is that the focus in groups 1 and 2 of our little Dutch school is to help children work self sufficiently, to raise their social awareness, learn how to co-operate in a group, to look after and out for each other. These are the years that my children learn that there are rules and boundaries outside of their home too, in a classroom. But they learn this in a safe, respectful, playful way. 

My four year old has day and week tasks that consist of things like finger painting an autumn tree and building a hut with blocks. He proudly tells me how hard he has worked, how he has completed his week tasks and yet, in reality, he has spent the week creating and playing. Oh, and learning. 

Their future is not mapped out by the age of four.

My children will only start getting homework when they move to group 6. Yes, my eldest is asked to practice his times tables at home, and in group 1 and 2 he took bear home and (mama) had to write about what bear had done over the weekend, but hours of maths and language homework after school? No, not until he is nine or ten, and even then it is given in moderation. 

This gives my children time to do what they do best; they come home from school and play. Which brings me nicely to my second reason. 

2. An Outdoor Culture

The Dutch are outdoor people. And so are their children. If they are not cycling they are on steps, skateboards or roller skates. In winter they are on sledges or ice skates.

Children are encouraged to play on the streets in residential areas (where traffic signs indicate children are at play and the speed limit is severely reduced).

My children love being outdoors, love being active in all sorts of weather. It reminds me of my own childhood in Britain in the 1980s, when we entertained ourselves out on the street with nothing but our imaginations, or perhaps a ball and our bikes.

3. Child Friendly Society

We don't have to walk far in our neighborhood to stumble over yet another children's playground or park. They are all small scale but varied and numerous. If we really wanted to, we could visit a different playground on foot each day of the week. Neighbourhoods are designed with children in mind.

Similarly, many restaurants are child friendly and the amount of amusement parks, animal parks and children's attractions across the Netherlands is just staggering for such a small country. There's more than enough to entertain children of all ages.

4. A Sense of Community

Like many playgrounds, Dutch primary schools are also small scale, but numerous, and children usually attend a school close to home. School catchment areas are generally quite small (but not fixed - if you want to send your child to a school further away you may).

This means that school runs are generally done on foot or by bike, and when primary school children are older it gives them a sense of independence that children don't feel being ferried to school in big cars, the type you see clogging up the roads around the schools in England.

I like that the Dutch tend to keep things local. My children go to school with children they live near. After school children play together in the local playgrounds with their classmates. It gives a sense of community. Work together, play together.

5. Dutch State

The importance of family filters down from the politicians. There are various state benefits for families with children: subsidies for child care as well as child benefit payments. State education is free. The Dutch youth care system is wide and varying - and in most cases the services are free.

It starts from birth with help from kraamzorg and continues with visits to the consultatiebureau, which, love it or hate it, is undeniably a unique service for parents. The system may not be perfect, but whenever I have needed a helping hand as a parent I've had welcome support. Even though I am an expat with a small family support network, I feel like I have people to lean on if I need it, because of the Dutch youth system.

This could easily be the motto of the Dutch when it comes to raising children

6. Work Life Balance

Last but absolutely not least, the focus on striking a balance between working and family life is extensive. Putting the emphasis on family life is ingrained in Dutch society.

More than a fair share of the working population works part-time, predominantly women, all with the aim of being around for their children and working around school hours. Again, love it or loathe it it is how it is. I happen to love it.

Parents, whatever their situation, need to find a work and family balance that works for them and the Dutch attitude and family culture means that parents have options.

Children have parents that, in general, have the opportunities and time to be present and involved.

It's Not Hagelslag, It's Attitude

So, my belief is that the happiness of Dutch children has nothing to do with hagelslag (sprinkles) on bread for breakfast as others have lightheartedly suggested, rather it stems from an attitude, a deep ingrained culture that focuses on children and allows them to make the most of childhood.

Dutch parents around me don't put pressure on their children to grow up fast. Instead, they give them permission to be children for as long as possible and not worry about their future at a young age. I recently read a few articles about American parents pressuring their children to excel in many fields from a young age, both in and out of school, children that have an after school activity schedule that would make most Dutch children's eyes water.

It's true that the Dutch have a reputation for being liberal, a bit too liberal on some matters in some culture's eyes, but what I see is an openness and a manner of carefully considered parenting that seems to work, which seems to foster independent children that feel listened to, that feel valued. Ones that are keen to tell researchers who care to ask that they are happy with their lot.

So, I for one intend to keep watching the parenting examples around me, and dish out good doses of Dutch parenting to my three sons. Hopefully, one day, when a UN researcher asks them questions for her World Happiness Report they'll be as positive in their answers as the children that have gone before them.

What do you think makes Dutch children fare so well in happiness studies?Does the parenting culture in your host country differ widely to that in your birth country? Is the local parenting culture where you live something you aspire to?

*It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway, that Dutch society has it's share of problems, and that includes the lives of some children too. Some Dutch children live in poverty, some Dutch children live with absent parents, some Dutch children are deeply unhappy. I am in no way suggesting with this post that all Dutch children are ecstatically happy. However, there is a general culture related to parenting that I see every day around me. And that is the essence of this post.*

Dear Teacher, Sometimes You Need to Believe Without Seeing

“What if I come and have lunch with you at home one day? Then I can see the meltdown for myself,” suggested my son’s teacher at the height of the school troubles.

The thing is she just didn’t get it. I couldn’t make her understand. My highly sensitive child won’t perform for just anyone. He needs to feel safe. He only lets his emotions go in a trusted environment, with people who love him unconditionally. His lunchtime meltdowns are reserved for me. Not for his teacher, not in her classroom, nor in our home.

Three hours at a time with thirty other children has its toll on my highly sensitive son. Let’s be honest, for many people some kind of minor breakdown would be on the cards after a day with thirty children. For a child with heightened senses a busy classroom is a minefield.

We use the metaphor of a bucket; every direct interaction my son has, every indirect interaction he witnesses, goes into his bucket. Every sight, sound, smell and action gets thrown in there unfiltered. With a classroom teeming with small children his bucket fills quickly. In no time it overflows.

Photo Credit: KD Kelly

But my son doesn’t want to be the centre of attention. Anything but. He lets that bucket flow over without a word, a sensory overload seeping over the sides of his bucket, forming puddles around his feet. He walks around silently in emotionally sodden shoes until he leaves the classroom, until his teacher leads him out onto the playground, until his eyes meet mine over a sea of children and parents. I can read in those eyes, in a split second, that his bucket is too heavy for him to carry. In the split second it takes to meet my eyes he knows it is safe to let go and his face contorts with anger and confusion, his eyes darken and a thundercloud appears over his head. But his teacher’s attention is long gone as he runs to me.

I put my arms around him and I feel the energy raging within his little body, stress with nowhere to go. Words stumble over each other to get out of his mouth, trying to sum up the whirlwind that has been his morning, trying to empty his overladen bucket.

We walk home. Either there are tears as we walk, or the beginnings of a meltdown. Or silence. But no matter how the short walk home has been I know that when I open the front door to our home, once he crosses that threshold to safety, he will fling the bucket he has spent the morning filling across our hallway.

He will scream, cry, lash out, fight my every move; nothing will be right. His jacket refuses to hang on his hook. He can’t get his shoelaces undone. His sandwich filling is wrong. The bread is cut wrong. His brother is making too much noise. His plate is the wrong colour.

For eighteen long, emotional, stressful months we search for solutions. We talk to his teachers. I share that he is highly sensitive. I share that he needs time out, he needs quiet time, a place to reset, to empty his bucket out before it fills to the top. But I face a brick wall.

His teachers say he doesn’t want quiet moments, doesn’t need time alone. They tell me he’s a good learner, that he’s their idea of a perfect child in the classroom: he listens; he follows instructions; he doesn’t make a fuss. They tell me he’s enjoying himself. They tell me he’s never had a tantrum in school, never kicked a chair in his classroom, never shouted at them or a classmate. They tell me they see no problem in school, it has nothing to do with them; it’s a problem our family needs to solve at home. We need to leave the scientifically unproven idea of highly sensitive children at home, and let him get on with it at school, where he’s the perfect student.

They refuse to scratch beyond the surface, to see beyond the façade. They don’t see me dragging a screaming, crying little boy over the threshold of safety back into the world every day after lunch. They don’t see me coaxing a five-year-old boy out of the house for an afternoon at school. They don’t see the bruises on my shins from the kicks I get as I try to get shoes back on my distraught child to leave the house. They don’t see my tears, the conflict raging inside me. I want to keep him home but I can’t, not every day. They refuse to see the conflict raging inside my son.

By the time the battle is over and he’s back in school both our tears have faded, his anger has subsided.

I tell his teacher it has been a struggle to get him back there. I can see her rolling her eyes. Not literally of course, but I know she’d like to. And I walk back home, knowing I’ll do it all again in two hours because his bucket will fill unhindered during the afternoon.

He will come home overwhelmed because the new girl has been crying on her first day, because his friend fell over and hurt his arm, because the last piece of the puzzle he was doing did an impromptu vanishing trick, because the noise levels in class reached a new high, because he couldn’t get the teacher’s attention for help, because he hated the drawing he made.

He’ll come home overwhelmed because he’s highly sensitive and he doesn’t yet have the tools to filter out the things he doesn’t need to keep in his bucket. He needs help with it all. He needs support. He needs a reminder to seek out a quiet space. But for some reason I can’t get that for him in his classroom, where he spends most of his day.

Instead I get the offer of a lunch date at our house. Failing that maybe I could videotape one of his meltdowns for them. Because seeing is believing, right? Perhaps it would be better to accept the word of a mother, a mother at her wit’s end trying to help her son, a mother whose heart breaks every time she picks her son up from school because she sees his soul being destroyed little by little in a classroom that is a long way from being suitable for a highly sensitive child.

He’s in a different school now, one that understands that all children are individuals. That the boy at home and the boy in school is part of the same whole. His teacher understands that he needs time, space and quiet to empty his bucket. She believes without seeing. She supports him, without needing to see him at his worst. Sometimes seeing is believing, but other times it needs to be a matter of trust.

Photo Credit: Karolina Michalak

*Please note that as of 1 November 2014 I have launched a new blog called Happy Sensitive Kids,  for parents of highly sensitive children, or for those parenting children as highly sensitive people. Please visit Happy Sensitive Kids for more information sources and the blog - http://happysensitivekids.wordpress.com. You can also keep up to date on the accompanying Facebook page of the same name.*

How Do Children Address Their Teachers Across the Globe?

A BBC article back in May relayed that Prof Jennifer Coates stated that calling males teachers 'sir' but addressing female teachers as 'miss' gives female teachers a lower status than males in British schools, and is sexist. In general, British teachers are indeed referred to as Miss or Sir or Miss/Mrs or Mr and their last names. Apparently (and those of you in Britain can clarify better than I can) some schools are moving towards pupils addressing teachers by their first names, trying to close the distance between teachers and their students, which is how it is in the Netherlands.

In the Dutch education system children address teachers by their first name, using juf or juffrouw in front for a female and meester for a male teacher. When I was in school it was quite the game to try and find out our teachers first names - and if we did it was an occasion for hilarity. Looking back I have no idea why - maybe a sense of taboo in that we weren't supposed to know their names. No such fun for Dutch school goers.

But it got me wondering. How do children in other countries address their teachers? So I asked the amazing Multicultural Kids Blogs bloggers.... and this is how teachers are addressed in countries across the globe - showing that how we address our teachers is truly cultural.

Australia

"I'm a teacher in an Australian primary school (ages 6 to 12)and we always are addressed Mr/Mrs/Ms and surname. Sometimes if a teacher has a long or difficult to pronounce name it is shortened to Mr P etc." Anonymous

Brazil

"Generally in Brazil students use the first name of their teacher. If the students are still quite young they often put 'tia/tio' ('aunt/uncle') in front of the name. Tia/tio is a universal term of respect that young young people use for their elders, regardless of relationship." Stephen Greene, Head of the Herd

China

In China children use teacher's last name and add Lao Shi (teacher) after it. If it is a foreign teacher then they say "teacher" and add teacher's first name (e.g. teacher Varya - well, I go by teacher V because no one can pronounce my name properly!). Varya of Little Artists

Equador

"In Ecuador they say Miss _____ (first name) an Mister ________ where I went to school." Diana Limongi Gabriele of Spanglish baby

Finland

"In Finland it's first names or even nick-names all the way with teachers, no titles or surnames. The whole society is very informal - I don't think that even the president would flinch if someone called him by his first name." Rita Rosenback of Multilingual Parenting 

France

"In France, it depends on the teacher. It can be "Madame/ Mademoiselle/ Monsieur X" or it can also be the first name and adressed as "vous" or first name and tu (=you) (but the last one is more for the kids in pre-school)" Eolia Scarlett Disler

"My niece in France uses the polite form "vous" and mrs C: Madame C. She is in primary school." Annabelle Humanes

"It's also very common for kids to use the terms "maîtresse" and "maître" for female and male teachers respectively, meaning simply "teacher" (for primary school age 6-10). Pre-school (3-6) usually use first names and secondary use Monsieur and Madame." Phoebe from The Lou Messugo Blog  

"In France students will say simply -maîtresse or maître (meaning teacher - femine/masculine) by itself when asking a question or trying to get his/her attention. In Maternelle (Pre-school) the teachers went by their first names for the students. Beginning at Elementary..it changes to to Madame or Monsieur (plus last name of teacher)." Jennifer Poe-Faugere

Germany

"In Germany at kindergarten, kids use the first names and Du."Annabelle Humanes

"In Germany, students adress teachers by using Herr/Frau and surname, using "Sie" as the polite form (Herr Schmidt, koennen Sie...). Teachers address students by their names, but when the students are over 16 years old, they also get "sietzt"- address using "Sie". Sometimes teachers would use first name and Sie." Olga Mecking

Italy

"In preschool (3-5) in Italy children use just teachers' first names." Galina Nikitina of Raising a Trilingual Child 

Korea

"Similar to China, my students in Korean added the word for teacher - seonsaengnim or the abbreviated saem - after the full/first name. Or sometimes they just used "saem." It felt strange to have students address me by my first name (I'm American)." Marielle

Latvia

"In Latvia you commonly avoid using name or surname but simply address them as teacher (skolotāj) and use the polite form "jūs" which is akin to the German "Sie" or French "vous". Talking to a third person you'd say teacher and then add the last name, though by high-school when talking with other students you'd just use the surname or name of the teacher. But you'd never address a teacher that way as it would be considered disrespectful." Ilze Ievina 

Morocco

"In Arabic class it's usted or usteda and French maitresse. No names just the word teacher." Amanda Ponzio Mouttaki

Poland 

"In Poland, it's Pan/Pani (Sir/Madam) and the pupils get called by their names. In secondary school, the students sometimes adress their teachers with, "pan profesor", or "pani profesor"- even if the teachers are not professors" Olga Mecking 

Portugal

"In Portugal, in primary school, children refer to the teachers as Sra. Professora(female)/Sr. Professor (male)or by their first name. In high school they call them 'stora' and 'stor', which is an abbreviation of Professora/Professor." Joanna

Russia

"In Russia children use full names to address teachers: first name + patronymic. How does a patronymic form? Let's say a teacher's name is Ivan, and his father's name is Mikhail. His full name will be Ivan Mikhailovich (which is rather like "Mikhail's"). Last name + first name + patronymic is what you will find in Russian documents. It is very common to use full names when addressing an older person, co-worker or a stranger, though less common than in the past. In the last couple of decades there is a tendency to use only first names, but not for teachers." Liska Myers at Adventure in a Box 

"In Russia we address by first name with patronymic (a variation of father's name that is added after 1st name in our passports -it is a general official way of calling people)." Varya of Little Artists

Spain

"In Spain our kids just use the teachers' first names." Kara Haberbush Suro of Our Whole Village

USA 

"When we lived in the US kids used first names but we lived in San Francisco and it really varies by region. In other parts of the US, kids use either Ms./Mr. and the first name or the last name." Kara Haberbush Suro of Our Whole Village

"Ms. First Name in Berkeley California." Stephanie Meade of InCulture Parent 

"In the US, children (elementary school age and up) typically refer to their teachers as Mr. or Mrs. My children go to a French International School where the elementary school English teachers are referred to as Mr. and Mrs. and the French teachers go by their first names." Aimee, of Raising World Citizens

"My children go to a Mandarin immersion school in California, and they call Chinese teachers their name (given or surname depending on teachers' preference. I believe in mainland China they would always use surname) + Laoshi, which means Teacher. Their English teachers use Miss/Ms/Mr + given (first) name." Sophie Beach

"East coast US, more old-school: Mrs./Dr./Mr. (Last Name). I think calling them by first names would get them in big trouble!" Homa Sabet Tavangar

Dear Juf

Dear juf L & juf C,

"It's your problem at home, solve it there, we have no issues in school." That's what we heard a year ago from our son's teachers when we talked about the negative impact of the school environment overloading our highly sensitive boy.

Last September our son started in a new school, in a new class - in your class. "What happens at home is relevant for school and vice versa. Of course it's relevant how he behaves at home after a day at school. We want to help, we need to work together," you said.

And that is what you have spent the last school year doing: supporting, brainstorming, helping, nurturing and making sure Mr S not only learned to read, write and do sums, but also how to feel more comfortable in his own skin. You've spent the last eleven months helping him recognise his own emotions, showing him tools he can use to deal with his moments of overload in the classroom.

You have never once made me feel like I'm crazy, over protective or unable to cope - all the things I was made to feel a year ago by my son's teachers.

You've taught us all this last school year that a child goes to school for so many more reasons than to read and write. Done right school nurtures a child, the whole child, not just the part that shows up in the CITO results.

In the space of one short school year you took an unsure six year old, wary of a new school, of a new classroom, new classmates and a new teacher, held his hand and within weeks showed him just how comfortable he can feel in his own skin, when he's allowed to be himself, allowed to be authentic.

You showed him he could put his trust in you, tell you how he's feeling without fear of flippancy or mockery. Yes he could read and write by Christmas with your guidance, and the sums he can do get harder every week but he's also grown emotionally. He has much more of a grip on his sensitivities.

Raising a child takes teamwork and we're thankful that you've been a major part of our team this school year.

Teaching a highly sensitive child takes patience, understanding, empathy and an ability to peel the layers of a child away to see the real reason for a fear that seems irrational to the outside world, to understand an outburst that seems to come from nowhere, to mop up tears that fall without warning. And you've done just that. You've seen beyond the barriers, beyond the facades that a HSC is adept at putting up. On so many occasions he's come home smiling, full of the fun he's had, proud of the fact that his bucket is empty, or almost empty, proud that he worked with you to stop his bucket spilling over.

Of course it hasn't been all sunshine and roses, but when it's got tough, when it's gone wrong, you have been an ally. You've put no extra hurdle in our way, you've stood on Mr S's side all the way. It's made a difference to our home life. You've made a difference to life over the last eleven months.

Thank you.

The van Mulligen family.

New Article: Forget Labels, Think Instruction Manuals

My latest article for Amsterdam Mamas is on the topic of labelling our children. I wrote it after a conversation I had with a mother of a highly sensitive child who was reluctant to discuss her child's character traits with her new school. It got me thinking about our own journey with my son and his schooling and I realised the effects of sticking a 'highly sensitive child' label on his head and how differently we approached it when we changed schools. It proved to be a successful formula.

"A mother of a highly sensitive child (HSC) who had just started primary school told of how her child was struggling in the classroom, resulting in tantrums and tears at home. The teacher was being less than understanding about her daughter’s need for quiet time to recharge, and failed to grasp just how overwhelming the school environment is for her daughter." 

You can read more over on Amsterdam Mamas. I would love to hear your thoughts over on Amsterdam Mamas.

Learning to Write Dutch Style

Photo Credit: Krzysztof Szkurlatowski

My son moved to group 3 last September of primary school. It's a tough year for the little ones as it's the year they learn to read and write and actually start having to do some work, instead of just playing.

So we dutifully trotted off to the information evening in school and the teacher went through the material and methods they use to teach the six and seven year old how to read and write. I discovered that my son is learning to write deftig style.

"What's that?" I whispered behind my hand to my husband.

"Erm.. it means posh," he answered.

"So he's learning to write posh?"

"Yes."

So there you have it. My eldest son is learning to write posh.