42 The Times Magazinen a deprived suburb on the outskirts
of Roermond in the Netherlands,
half a dozen teenagers are clambering
over a car. They jump on the bumper,
pop the bonnet, toot the horn and
open the boot. Music is blaring from
the radio as they tear out the seats of
the Chrysler Voyager and throw them
on the ground. It looks like a case of
antisocial behaviour spiralling out of
control in the Dutch city, which has recently
been the scene of riots. But in fact the young
people are outside a school and this is part
of their education.
A science teacher, Frank Neiss, has set
his pupils the challenge of transforming the
people carrier into a camper van. They will
spend the next six months learning about
voltages, velocity and aerodynamics as well
carpentry, plumbing and design. This will
be their way into studying maths, chemistry,
physics and art. Already the students are
buzzing with ideas: one plans to customise
the exterior of the vehicle; another is thinking
about the sound system. “First we will let
them play with the car,” Neiss tells me. “It
will be a great project. Then, next summer,
I will go on holiday in the van with my wife.”
The students may even learn some geography
by helping him to plan the route.
This is Agora, perhaps the most
extraordinary school in the world. There
are no classrooms, no timetables, no year
groups and no curriculum. Pupils decide
what they want to study and all the learning is
done through individual projects that involve
making things, meeting specialists or going
on expeditions. Instead of a teacher, students
have a personal coach. They work in large
common rooms, with sofas, armchairs and
communal tables. If a child wants a desk, they
are encouraged to make one.
This non-selective state school in the
southeast of the country has a well-stocked
library, but also a 3D printer, a metal
workshop, a carpentry centre and a textiles
studio, with screen-printing facilities and
sewing machines. The “inventions” room,
which is piled high with Lego, has a specially
made carpet with a pattern designed by the
children. Rob Houben, the manager, who is
the closest thing Agora has to a head, says the
school is a combination of a university, where
all knowledge is within reach, a Buddhist
monastery, where pupils can discover what
matters in life, a theme park, where students
can have fun, and a marketplace, where the
young people can exchange ideas. In Ancient
Greece, the “agora” was the commercial, social
and political centre of the town. “We start
with you,” the school tells its pupils, who
range from 12 to 18 years old. “What do
you want to learn? What are your talents,
interests and ambition?”It could not be more different from the
traditional English education system, but the
innovative approach has become increasingly
popular with parents in the Netherlands, where
happiness is valued as much as academic
outcomes. The Roermond campus opened
in 2014 with 30 pupils as an experiment
within another more conventional school.
It has since expanded to 295 students and has
a long waiting list of others wanting to join.
There are now 12 Agoras around Holland and
the school has provoked interest from all over
the world. Before the pandemic Houben was
receiving around 70 requests to visit a week
from people looking for fresh ideas.
Agora turns all the normal expectations of
education on their head. For a start, it looksnothing like a school. The outside is painted
in primary colours and as you walk into the
building, the first thing you notice is a kayak
hanging from the ceiling in the foyer. The
school is built around a giant atrium, which
has a climbing wall in the middle of it and a
surreal collection of sculptures and creations
scattered all around. There is a line of
mannequins wearing dresses made from pages
torn out of books, and a tent next to a barbecue
and fake tree, which are part of a camping scene.
The front of a turquoise car protrudes from
a wall, with brightly coloured wings painted
above it. I spot a paper aeroplane stuck in a
corner and a huge globe. “We want to have a
joyful environment, but also an environment
that raises questions, because that’s what
everything is about,” Houben explains.
There are meeting rooms in glass, wooden
and metal boxes that appear to be suspended
in the air and a large cube, wrapped in golden
fabric, which has a stuffed gorilla on the top of
it. This is where pupils can display their work.
“At the moment there is nothing in there,”
Houben says. “I always get students at my
office asking, ‘Why did you get the great
stuff out of the golden box?’ and I say,
‘Because otherwise you wouldn’t be asking.I
PUPILS DECIDE WHAT
TO STUDY. IF A CHILD
WANTS A DESK, THEY
ARE ENCOURAGED
TO MAKE ONE
The school’s central atriumJUDE EDINGTON