The debate of the past several days about Curaçao’s education system is important, but it risks becoming trapped in a historical argument over who developed which policy. The more consequential question is not whether Curaçao ever formulated its own education vision. It clearly did. The question is whether the system that emerged from decades of reform is actually delivering what Curaçao’s children, economy and society need.
Teacher Eugène Maduro raised a fundamental issue when he asked whether Curaçao’s education system is sufficiently rooted in the island’s own society, language, history and future. Former Education Minister Omayra Leeflang responded that Curaçao does have its own educational vision and cautioned against creating the impression that the island simply adopted a system designed elsewhere.
Both points matter. But neither should end the discussion.
The 1981 policy document “Enseñansa pa Un i Tur” explicitly laid out principles for developing a new Antillean education system. Curaçao and the former Netherlands Antilles were therefore not passive recipients of educational policy.
Yet authorship and origin are not the same thing.
Long before Curaçao implemented its later reforms, the Netherlands had already been experimenting with ideas bearing striking similarities to what would become important components of the local system. In 1977, under Education Minister Jos van Kemenade, the Netherlands was exploring what was literally called “Funderend Onderwijs”: a more continuous educational development from roughly ages four to sixteen, with fewer rigid divisions between school types and greater emphasis on the broader development of the child.
Curaçao did not simply copy that experiment. Its reforms incorporated distinctly Antillean objectives, including equal opportunity, cultural identity and a greater role for Papiamentu.
That distinction deserves recognition.
But recognizing Curaçao’s contribution does not erase the historical relationship between the systems.
The same question applies to vocational education
Curaçao’s VSBO developed through a restructuring involving MAVO and vocational education. The Netherlands, around the same period, combined MAVO and VBO into VMBO.
Again, this does not mean Curaçao merely copied the Netherlands. It means important parts of the architecture of our education system developed within a broader Dutch educational tradition.
And that brings the debate to a much more uncomfortable question.
Why did Curaçao dismantle much of its strongly vocationally oriented educational structure before there was convincing evidence that the replacement would better prepare young people for the realities of the Curaçao labor market?
That question is especially relevant because the problem was already recognized when the reforms were being developed.
The 1995 report “Stappen naar een betere toekomst” identified youth unemployment and the inadequate connection between education and the labor market among the reasons that fundamental changes to the education system were considered necessary.
In other words, labor-market relevance was not some new concern discovered decades later. It was part of the justification for reform itself.
Yet the same problem returned
Sixteen years later, the official midterm evaluation was again warning about the connection between education and employment.
The alignment between SBO and the labor market was found to be insufficiently structural. Evaluators also questioned whether students were actually being trained for sectors where workers would be needed.
Problems were also identified in the transition from VSBO to SBO. Unclear attainment targets and insufficient coordination meant that students were sometimes moving into the next level without being adequately prepared.
Then came 2023.
Curaçao commissioned another comprehensive baseline assessment of its education system, the “Nulmeting van het Curaçaose onderwijsbestel.” Once again, improving basic quality, student progression and the relationship between education and the labor market were among the central objectives.
That chronology should concern policymakers.
If poor alignment between education and employment was identified almost 30 years ago as a reason to fundamentally change the old system, and improving that same alignment remains a major policy objective today, then Curaçao has every right to ask whether the problem lies only in implementation.
Perhaps parts of the model itself also need reconsideration.
This is not about returning blindly to the past
There is a danger that criticism of the current system becomes romanticism about what existed before it.
The old system had problems. Educational inequality was real. Reformers had legitimate reasons for wanting greater accessibility, better progression between levels, broader development of children and an educational identity more closely connected to Curaçao.
The people who designed those reforms were attempting to solve genuine problems.
But acknowledging their intentions cannot make the resulting system immune from reassessment.
Education policy should ultimately be judged by outcomes, not by ownership.
Calling a system “our own” does not prove that it works. Likewise, identifying Dutch influences does not prove that it fails.
The real tests are much more practical.
Are children leaving primary education with the skills they need? Are students progressing successfully between educational levels? Are young people being prepared for occupations Curaçao actually needs? Can vocational education respond rapidly enough to shortages in healthcare, construction, technology, hospitality, maritime services and other sectors? Are employers able to find qualified local workers? And are young Curaçaoans being equipped not merely to obtain diplomas, but to build economically independent lives?
Those questions should determine the next phase of the debate.
Curaçao needs to examine the model, not defend its history
The discussion should therefore move beyond whether Funderend Onderwijs, VSBO or other reforms were “Dutch” or “Curaçaoan.”
History matters because it helps explain how we arrived here. But history cannot be the final defense of a system whose performance must be measured against present-day needs.
Curaçao in 2026 is not Curaçao in 1981, 1995 or even 2010. The economy has changed. Technology has changed. The skills demanded by employers have changed. Demographic pressures have changed. And the international competition for qualified workers has become far more intense.
An education system designed for another economic era cannot simply be preserved because decades of policy have already been invested in it.
If vocational education needs to become stronger, strengthen it. If students need earlier exposure to technical professions, entrepreneurship and practical skills, provide it. If the relationship between schools and employers needs redesigning, redesign it. And if elements of the existing structure no longer serve Curaçao adequately, policymakers should be willing to replace them.
That does not mean abandoning everything built over the past four decades. It means having the confidence to evaluate it without treating previous policy choices as permanent.
The most productive question in this debate is therefore not who invented Curaçao’s education system.
It is not even whether Curaçao has its own education vision.
The question that should matter to parents, teachers, employers, students and politicians is much simpler:
Is this the education system our children and our country need?
If the answer is uncertain after decades of reform, then Curaçao should not be afraid to ask what must change.