It wasn’t that long ago. I’m shuffling down the hallways here with my bag full of syllabi. I pull out a yellow-and-blue chair at a table in the cafeteria and sit down for a croquette sandwich. Back then, it was still an exotic explosion on my German tongue.
Behind the tall white doors with blue handles, I sat between the benches listening to the English teacher trying to coax a properly British “Winnie the Pouuuuuuuuh” out of me.
I’m talking about 1998, the year I began my studies in Groningen.
So now I’m fourteen years older, and that fact—plus the fact that I’ve actually made something of myself in all that time, and that, fortunately, I’ve managed to master and make my own a specific field—camjo—has led to an invitation to serve as a guest lecturer in the journalism department.
I’d done it once before in 2011, and now I was invited back. A good sign.
Standing in front of the class, I suddenly feel at one with the students again. “Yeah, I really like radio. But TV appeals to me too. No, I’m not sure yet what I want to do. Regional TV? Mwoahhh….I’ll just see how it goes.”
I didn’t have a clue either. I hadn’t seen anything of the broadcasting world yet, and I didn’t know where this program would take me. At which stop I’d get off.
Because just a short while ago, I was sitting right there in those classrooms, listening to the guest lecturers from Hilversum. Every lesson was just as fascinating. Every example, every report opened up dozens of new possibilities and paths.
My notes are actually still up on the shelf.
This time, during the break, I have to ask where the pumping room is and if there’s a fridge—proof that I’ve definitively left that generation behind. That I’m no longer sitting in the audience, but standing in front of the class.
It won’t be long before they start calling me “ma’am.” (But luckily, I was spared that.)
