On May 23, the Science Hub of our university organized Meet the Professor. Professors from the EUR cycled through the city to introduce children at various primary schools to the work and research of a professor. Professor of Integration and Migration Jaco Dagevos visited the Nutcracker primary school in Hoogvliet and wrote a little report. A selection of the questions that the enthusiastic students from group 7 asked him were: 'How long do you have to study before you become a professor?' 'What do you like about Erasmus University?' 'What is your favourite research? done?' 'Do you know what 300 x 244 is?'
The idea of Meet the Professor is that professors wear a toga, cycle to a primary school, and enter the classroom in full uniform. However, cycling to Hoogvliet is a bit far, so I went there by car. I entered the classroom with my gown under my arm. The great thing about the project is that students have been prepared in recent weeks for the arrival of their professor. In lessons before my visit, attention had already been paid to what a university is, what a professor does and what research generally entails. It was also announced that the professor would come in a gown. I put on the gown on the spot. In the Rotterdam version, stealing is always tricky because it is often twisted, or too low or high. When I asked if anyone wanted to help me with this, a girl immediately rushed forward and draped the stole neatly over my shoulder.
A toga and a beret
They thought it looked neat, such a dress. 'Why do professors wear a gown and a beret?' 'You've already graduated?' 'And why do you get that because you are higher in rank?' to explain that at the university – a school for big children, as the rector nicely describes it – there are different schools, each with its colour. And so we chatted without difficulty in class. At one point, a student said: you haven't told us your name yet. Indeed, it's not nice of me not to mention my name. "What do you want to know?" Only a first name was sufficient for the time being. I wrote Jaco on the board. Jaco, 'Jaco, the professor,' said a few boys. Jaco, the professor, indeed. The class thought that sounded nice, and I did too. My last name is Dagevos, and I also wrote that on the board. The name Dagevos comes from France, and my great, great, great grandfather was a refugee who came to the Netherlands because of his faith. He was a Protestant – do you know what that is? – and in France, Catholics – ditto – did not want Protestants living in that country. So, for a long time, people have fled to countries where things are better.
Find a subject you like
Meanwhile, the questions kept coming. Whether I was married or how old I am - while guessing, they eventually arrived at 58 years old, the age of the grandparents of some of the children. What kind of student was I at school? What was my least favourite subject? Arithmetic and parsing - examples on the board about direct and indirect objects, brrr. Did I ever stay seated, and was I a good student? I told them I was an average student who could learn well but was not the best. It wasn't until I started studying that I got the hang of it and started working hard because I enjoyed it. Try to find something you like that makes you enthusiastic, too. That is the most important. Two girls shyly said they will take gymnasium classes next year.
A lesson about refugees
My lesson was about refugees. The first thing I asked was to imagine an emergency and you have to go somewhere quickly if you don't know anyone. How would you feel then? A little boy, who had not said anything until then, raised his hand: he must feel lonely and sad. Others also thought they would miss friends and family. Another boy liked it because he was alone and not bothered by his brother and other friends. Refugees now often come from Ukraine, the students knew, and from Syria and Africa. Gaza and Israel were also mentioned. A boy of – as it turned out – Syrian descent said that he had fled Syria by plane with his mother and sister. His father had come in a rubber boat. He was about four years old when he came to the Netherlands and told his story in fluent Dutch. A girl with Syrian roots came forward with the story that she had fled to the Netherlands with her parents as a baby. The parents of another girl had come to the Netherlands because of the war in Suriname.
I said we are researching Syrians in the Netherlands and seeing how they are doing. We investigate, among other things, how well they speak Dutch, measured by the grade they give themselves for their Dutch language proficiency. I showed the average figures for our three measurements: 4.6 in 2017, 5.6 in 2019 and 5.8 in 2022. So things are getting better, I told the class. Yes, but 5.6 is insufficient, said a little boy who had also calculated the average of the three measurements (5.3). I also explained that young people learn the language much faster than older people. A girl confirmed this: her grandmother's Dutch needed to make more progress.
Parting
And then the hour was almost over, and the cake was nearly finished. A little boy asked if he could tell a joke now. I still had to come to the corner where the list of questions that I and the students had answered was hanging. Whether I spoke more than one language or not. Yes, but so did more than half the class. The boys were interested in asking my preference for Ronaldo or Messi, Real Madrid or Barcelona. And Feyenoord? Of course, for Feyenoord. Messi and Barcelona met with little enthusiasm. The Syrian boy asked if he could wear my beret, and he was allowed. The teacher took the students back to their seats and said goodbye with thunderous applause. When the teacher asked who wanted to become a professor, 7 or 8 children raised their hands.
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