De Peuterspeelzaal (aka preschool)

My middle son started preschool (peuterspeelzaal in Dutch) this week at the tender age of 2 years and 4 months. It's been an emotional week... for me at least because I was suddenly faced with a new phase and although I have been through this once before with my eldest son it still felt weird to realise my son is no longer a baby. He was delighted to spread his wings a little and start school "like his big brother" and he's far too busy even to wave goodbye once he gets playing there.

First Day at School: What No Uniform?

When my son started primary school last year it was a milestone. Not just for him, but for me too. Gone were easy, go with the flow mornings. They were replaced with a morning routine that required planning with military precision. Gone were trips to the farm at the drop of a hat. Gone were spontaneous trips to the playground with him. My eldest son suddenly disappeared for most of the day. It was an adjustment for us both. It was tough.

School uniforms
Photo: Tim & Annette

But when he took his first steps into his new classroom something else struck me. I would never experience that proud moment that most British mothers have when their child puts on their school uniform for the first time. Last September, Facebook was flooded with friends' photos capturing their children on that first day at school in a crisp, new school uniform.

School uniforms are very uncommon in the Netherlands. In fact the only place I have seen them since I moved here in 2000 is the British School in the Netherlands based in Voorschoten. An OFT report cites that 79% of junior schools in Britain has a compulsory school uniform, when you get to secondary school this rises to 98%. In short, if you go to school in Britain there is a good chance you'll be wearing a school uniform.

If you go to school in the Netherlands you will almost definitely not be required to don a uniform in the colours of your school. I started doing a little digging to determine why my sons will all go through a school system without seeing a school uniform. It turns out it's easier to find out why British schools advocate the wearing of uniforms than why Dutch schools don't.

Michael Gove - a uniform believer
Photo: London Evening Standard

In Britain there is political pressure on schools to require pupils to wear a uniform. Michael Gove, the Education secretary believes that uniforms in schools are beneficial. He believes that the wearing of blazers and ties contribute to school success. In combination with strict discipline of course. He says that schools with uniforms have better results. It is a hot topic on the political agenda in Britain.

There are more benefits of a school uniform according to supporters: A uniform helps pupils identify with their school and feel like a part of the school community; it evokes pride in pupils; it instils discipline; it dissolves social equalities (as clothes do not differ between rich and poor students), hence reducing bullying.

Some argue that uniforms in schools are just a way of exerting power and control over kids. Heads of schools which have abolished their school uniform say that teachers spent too much time ensuring that children adhered to school uniform rules - time that could be better spent teaching them.

American academic (school uniforms are gaining popularity in the US), David Brunsma, concluded after eight years of research that school uniforms make no difference whatsoever to the standard of schools or their results.

Love them or loath them, the fact is that I grew up wearing a school uniform and somewhere in the photo archives of my parents there is a picture of me on my first day of school, proudly toting my brand new uniform. It's a British thing, but one as an expat parent I will never experience.

What will/did you never experience when your kids start(ed) school because you moved overseas? Is it something you miss(ed) or glad you don't/ didn't have to go through?

Regrets? I've Had a Few, But None Enough to Matter

The Daily Battle to get to School on Time
Photo: Filip Lundeholm

Some mornings I wake up and can't help feeling like I drew the short end of the straw. Three children to organise by 8.15: coax out of bed, tempt breakfast into, get dressed, brush teeth, get a school lunch box ready and into a school bag and finally get coats, scarves, hats and gloves on to (season dependent of course). In between I have to fit in a breastfeed for the baby, scrape Weetabix from the floor, high chair and dining table, divert a couple of tantrums and/or crying sessions and get myself showered and dressed. It's a miracle but we do usually get my eldest to school on time.

In order to take part in this joy every weekday I gave up my career. Once upon a time I worked full time in Human Resources in an international company. I went off on maternity leave in 2006 and never went back.  Don't get me wrong, I hated working nine to five. I hated the humdrum of office life. I hated the office politics. I hated being an employee number and not a valued person. I hated the rat race. I gave that career up happily.

When I started working for myself as a freelance writer, the knock came hard as the number of children in our household grew and the time to write diminished dramatically. During pregnancies the energy was sapped out of me. My inspiration for writing never made it outside my head. Time was at a premium and writing came last. This career pause was a little harder to take. Especially on those days when the children don't cooperate and the day feels long by 8.15 a.m. The days when every sacrifice feels like a burden. The days when not being able to even go to the toilet alone irks me.

And then something will happen that knocks the regrets about my writing career break on the head. It whacks those niggling feelings of something lost right out of the playing field. A baby's first smile. A toddler getting up and taking his first steps. The first utterance of mama. A bum wiggling dance to the theme of Thomas the Tank Engine. The search for a hug and kiss when a knee is scraped. The uncertainty of the first day of school. A drawing of our family made of stick men and wild hair. Arts and crafts sessions full of unbelievably sticky glue and glitter. Cooking sessions full of finger licking and tummy rubbing. In fact there are so many moments that make me smile as a mother it's hard to feel any regrets about an abandoned career for very long.

My time for my career will come soon enough. When my children are all in school and a little more independent. When my children are all grown up and leading their lives elsewhere. And for those days I can wait. There's no rush.

Regrets? I've had a few, but none enough to matter.