My oldest teenager had to make a new school choice last year after completing his four-year VMBO-t. He chose to study commercial vehicle engineering. Totally fine, but because he was always so enthusiastic about the economics lessons at the VMBO, I did not expect this choice. We talked about that, but he stuck to his choice. And of course I accepted it. I really don't care what kind of work my kids do. Not really. I only want one thing, and that's men who are happy with what they're doing and can eat a sandwich. Whether your child ends up in a position as a garbage collector, nurse, supermarket employee, teacher, crane operator, lawyer, painter, laboratory technician or newspaper deliverer. What does it matter?
A while ago I was sitting in the physiotherapist's waiting room. In the same room sat a woman with a young child. The little fellow flipped through a picture book full of pictures of a construction site. “Look mom, I want to be a crane operator when I grow up.” The male points to a picture of a large yellow excavator. “Well,” his mother says, a bit gruffly, “I thought you wanted to be a doctor!” The boy then says that this is not the case. The child wants to become a crane operator, he is quite sure of that. Mother clearly disagrees. “Okay, maybe not a doctor, but a lawyer then?”
The child shakes his head. Not a doctor, not a lawyer, but a crane operator it must be. I am in awe of what is happening. My astonishment increases even more when I hear mother try again. "Pilot?" I slam shut, wondering what to do with this. Basically, I want to scream, “What's wrong with your kid wanting to be a crane operator?” I hear the physiotherapist calling my name, it's my turn.
My husband has quite a few colleagues who work as crane operators. It is quite an art to demolish a building with such a machine, as efficiently and safely as possible. A while ago, an intern started at the company. A boy of practice, not of theory. It turned out to be a natural talent, who happily appears at work every day. That seventeen-year-old guy took his practical exam yesterday. With a smile from ear to ear and a big thumbs up, he happily announced that he had passed. A big fat nine had scored. I am so proud of guys like him, who work hard, who are going to bounce with joy through their work. We desperately need them, guys like that.
The next school year my youngest teenager will go to the fourth of the VMBO-T. The year in which he will take his exams and will be allowed to make a choice for the future. He did a sniffing internship a while back. In the office, in a workshop, as a craftsman in the demolition, at a weighbridge and on a crane. Every working day photos passed by with enthusiastic stories. He liked everything. On the last day of the internship, my child accompanied the crane operator. A photo of himself appeared in the big machine on the app, with the text:“I know what I want to be!” At home, the details were all revealed. We don't know yet whether this will actually be the case. But it won't be up to us, his parents. After all, there is absolutely nothing, nada, njente, nichts, wrong with a crane operator.
I regret not giving the mother with her son in the waiting room the phone number of one of the crane operators. Would he have been able to play along for a day. Secretly I am curious what the boy will eventually do. I wish him an extremely happy life in a profession that HE wants.
