It is a warm day – the one – and the group agents of primary school Nelson Mandela in Rotterdam are at camp in the east of the country. They are sagging in the canteen of the log cabin in which they sleep. The girls have fans and hand fans on battery. A hip -hop clip is projected on a white cloth: Matcha Coco from Noano and Jonna Fraser. “My baby that is sweet. My baby that is Fire. D’R Face and Body 10. I am becoming Panja every day.“
Master Appie – basketball shirt, slippers, sunglasses on his head – comes in and with a few words he gets quiet and the music and hand fans out. They go outside, he says, do a water game.
There is a large sail on the lawn of Summercamp Heino. Gym teacher Michael Buckers then thrown soapsop. “First of all, I want to give you a compliment,” says Appie when the students are sitting on the grass. “It was nice and quiet tonight.” That was different the night before: then Appie eventually went to sleep in the dormitory of the boys, in the bed of the most dominant boy. It was allowed to lie on a mattress in the hallway. It was quiet right away.
Photo Wouter de Wilde
He explains the water game – they are going to glide over their belly over the sail – and talks about the rest of the day program. Occasionally a student interrupts him, then he asks: “Do you want to continue?” And it is immediately quiet. The children do not even seem to realize how quickly they obey.
Many of my students are really intelligent, but yes, reading the language, reading it: she takes that
Abdeljabar ‘Appie’ Marbah (44) is not only a group teacher, but also coordinator ‘Good Behavior’ at Basisschool Nelson Mandela, located in the vulnerable, multicultural Afrikaanderwijk of Rotterdam. As a good behavior coordinator-often called ‘behavioral coordinator’ in other schools-he specializes in the social-emotional development of children. Among other things, he advises teachers on group dynamics in the classroom and he guides individual students with behavioral problems.
Kanjertraining
Appie knows exactly who has what role in the classroom and plays in, he says standing under a tree in the shade. The children are now sliding over the soap -rack. At least, the boys, because most girls sit on the wooden gate around the lawn with their faders. Appie points to a boy in a blue swimsuit. “He is the alpha male of the class. He has the so -called blue cap on.” You also have children with a ‘yellow cap’. He points to a girl who is sitting on her own on the grass looking at the belly. “Those are the withdrawn children. And the red cap is for the clowns.”
The students walk away with Meester Appie – especially because he has good insight into their behavior. Photo Wouter de Wilde
Photo Wouter de Wilde
The terminology comes from Kanjertraining, a program for the social-emotional development of children in primary education. Around two thousand schools in the Netherlands work with this method. Teachers follow a short course to give Kanjertraining in the classroom. Among other things, they do role -playing. Then a student, for example, plays the clown and the rest must try not to give him or her too much attention. In this way they learn that the clown calms if they give it less ‘gasoline’. Appie has followed an extra course to become Kanjercoordinator of Nelson Mandela, allowing him to support and retrain the other teachers.
With all his expertise, Appie can put the class as a puppeteer to his hands, as he did when he removed the ‘leader’ of the boys from the dormitory last night and then it was quiet. This week he did something similar when he wanted to get the class out of the pool without too much hassle. “Michael and I kept an eye on the alpha mannetje to grab him on something. At one point he pushed someone, so I said,” What was the appointment? If you push, you have to get out of the pool. ” He did that automatically.
Angry
Appie is the nicest teacher, says Ecrin (12), sitting in the grass. While she talks, she pulls grass blades out of the ground. “He always makes jokes and he doesn’t get angry.”
“I think he is sometimes angry,” says Zehra (12), who sits next to her. “But he solves it without shouting. With calm words.”
Ecrin: “I just can’t be annoying at Master Appie.”
Zehra: “And even if you have punishment, he just makes that punishment more fun.”
Ecrin: “Yes, then we have to read a book for example.”
Photos Wouter de Wilde
Master Appie does that with Mohamed (13), also called ‘Mo’. From a chair next to the belly slide, he encourages classmates. “He’s a bit between a clown and an alpha man. He often can’t keep his mouth.” When Appie notices that Mo is “in that flow”, he quickly sends him out of the class to work somewhere else. Then Appie says: “You have no punishment; I prevent you from being punished.” He also always tries to talk about the student’s behavior, not about the person.
At Master Appie I just can’t be annoying
“Hey mo!”, Appie shouts. Mo comes in joking in wet sports clothes. In the meantime he has started sliding.
“I think it’s great what you are doing now. I thought first: he’s not going,” says Appie.
Mo grins. “Yes, I thought too.”
“But Mo, what am I always saying to you?” Appie asks. “Which Mo would I like in my group?”
“That mo on a school trip or at camp.”
“Yes, because you are cozy. And I don’t want the mo in my …?”
Mo laughs. “Class. Because I talk a lot and interfere with everything.”
“But am I talking about Mo or about your behavior?”
“About my behavior.”
Parents
What also helps is that Appie has the same background as many of his students. He also grew up in the Afrikaanderwijk, was also at primary school Nelson Mandela and also had a difficult childhood. He was eleven when his father left the family, twelve when he started working on the market to financially support the family. So he knows what’s going through the “heads” of the students. We have to work a little harder than another, he tells them. And yes, he talks in the we-form, because that’s how it feels. We, he says, have a different background and therefore often no parents who can help with our homework. “Many of my students are really intelligent, but yes, reading the language, reading it.”
Master Appie knows well what goes through the ‘heads’ of the students.
Photo Wouter de Wilde
Appie received a HAVO/VWO advice, but in high school he had to go to the mavo at some point because he made “too many jokes”. Later he ‘recovered’ himself. He became a youth worker and went to the Pabo.
Appie always says to his students: “I made it, so you can do it too.” In the past they told him at school that it would not work out with him that it would end up in the tank. But he has never seen a prison inside.
If a student has a bad working posture, he says: “I am worried. I am not saying that you will not be able to make it, but if you continue like that, I am afraid that you will not be able to make it.” He tries to be careful so that they don’t come to him later with the reproach that he had no confidence in them.
In the grass around Ecrin and Zehra, an increasingly larger group of children gathers. Further on, a water fight has been created in which Master Appie is fanatically participating. Whether they feel like high school? “Noeeeeee!” They scream. “No, because I’m going to do VWO,” says Moiza (12) played surly. In the class of Meester Appie, six of the nineteen students received VWO advice, slightly above the national average.
They also don’t like going to high school because they will miss each other. At night it is usually more restless in the girls’ dormitory than on that of the boys. “We are talking about our memories together, what we all did at school,” says Ecrin solemnly. “We had girls’ club with Miss Fatima, then we went to cook. And we started dancing with children’s book week.” And Master Appie, yes, they will of course miss them incredibly.
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