I’m eager to learn, but I don’t fit into a regular education system. When I decided to quit school in May 1977 (I was still 16 years old), I took a wise step. In retrospect, my self-will reached its peak then.
After primary school, I spent four years at the MAVO (General Secondary Education) and graduated with a good mix of Dutch, English, German, Geography, Biology, and History. After that, I spent almost a year at Sint Lucas College in Boxtel. That was a vocational training program for advertising design and window dressing.
In the months before I quit, I realized I had learned enough to do it myself from then on. I had learned to read, write, and do arithmetic, and I had developed some interest in general knowledge.
I didn’t know what I was going to be at the time. A career as a cowboy or astronaut wasn’t within reach. My father owned a garage (he dealt in used cars), and because I’d been working there since I was 12, I developed a vision for that career. To learn the trade, I started working at a garage in Son. I worked there for a year, sanding cars, applying filler, and doing some spray-painting.
After a year, I left and went to work for my father while waiting for military service.
In October 1978, I joined the Royal Netherlands Air Force as a conscript. After basic training, I ended up in Germany (Schöppingen) as a Nike launch assistant. I loved that world. It was a wonderful time. Enjoying anonymity among 60,000 others and keeping a low profile at the right times gave me plenty of room to play and ride out my teenage years.
Progress
I’m starting this page on Father’s Day 2025. That’s three days before my 65th birthday.
There were times when the end of your working life was considered a milestone. That you could enjoy a well-deserved retirement and a life behind the geraniums. Perhaps this was once a fitting arrangement for people who, from the ages of 16 to 20, were subjected to heavy physical labor in a different age of prosperity. Think of miners, construction workers, farmers, truck drivers. But when I look at my profession, I conclude that I’m still improving. I’m much calmer, more mindful of the dynamics of my environment, and I have a wealth of experience under my belt.
Moreover, I’m increasingly able to position myself in a professional world with many specializations. I know perfectly well what I’m not good at, and I’m now open about it. I also know very well what I’m good at, and false modesty is out of place there.
So, I’ll keep going. I find intellectual stimulation essential.
If I'm interested then I want more; reading = knowing/being able to play with the subject matter
After leaving the education system, I learned a great deal. Even what I didn’t want to do or what didn’t work!
After military service, I became a professional soldier. Because I had a MAVO diploma, I could apply for a position as a non-commissioned officer. At the end of 1979, I attended the Royal Netherlands Air Force Sergeant School (KKSL) in Schaesbergen. The basic training was mainly characterized by a lot of walking. Later in life, I learned the fundamentals of training: goal and supercompensation. That training had nothing to do with that at all. My position as a non-commissioned officer would consist of ground defense and guided missile launches. Both jobs require different skills than a lot of walking under the guise of a map-reading exercise. I did learn there that you didn’t have to worry about your students and that you could relax in your Volkswagen van after sending them on their way.
The vocational training for Nike launch specialists and the ground operations training were better. More goal-oriented.
After 27 months of training, I ended up as a sergeant at Volkel Air Base, where I was assigned to guard an open secret. Just 21 years old, I was on duty with a group of “somewhat younger” conscripts, working continuously. These conscripts were fortunate enough to have a year of site guard duty, which meant going up and down the towers. Sometimes I had a quieter time at De Peel Air Base, where I had to guard an area of 450 hectares with six people and a dog handler.
After a little over five years, I wanted to move on, and during drinks, my old Squadron Commander asked me what it was like and if I’d like to become an instructor for Ground Operations training. I took one deep breath and said yes.
Next step: Air Force Officer School
That was, by far, the best time I’ve ever experienced. Along with about ten colleagues, we provided training for non-commissioned officers and officers, which included subjects like gunnery and weapons training, map reading, active ground defense, camouflage, demolitions, and peacetime security. Every week, we were away from home for two or three days to “play outside.”
During instructor training, I learned two very important things. People have a convergent (from small parts to the whole) or a divergent (from the whole to the smaller parts) way of thinking. It doesn’t help to shout louder if you’re not clear, but turn it around—go from convergent to divergent—and you’ll often hear things like, “Just say that right away.” It doesn’t matter. So explain it one way and summarize it the other, and it becomes a piece of cake.
The second important lesson was Maslow’s taxonomy, which teaches you that people process knowledge at five levels.
The lowest level is Imitation; a parrot doesn’t know what it’s saying either. The next level is Understanding. Then comes Application (putting your knowledge and experience to work). Synthesis means combining knowledge and skills and transforming them into something different/new. The highest level is Evaluation and being self-critical. Asking yourself if you can do better and knowing that it’s never finished.
Since then, I’ve avoided taking multiple-choice exams because I believe training should be goal-oriented and that you don’t need to train parrots. When I teach, I at least focus on application.
I’ve discovered the most important lesson myself: don’t go on autopilot and always be prepared. It’s through evaluation or self-reflection that I know you can get far with bluffing, but that it’s a balancing act.
Dominant in the background
As a bassist you are not lined up to formally lead. That’s why you have conductors or musical directors. In practice, it means that as a bassist you determine the groove together with the drums.
In my work too, I will not choose the role of project leader or manager (the equivalent of conductor), but my input is decisive.
