The NAMS/ASOP, the private MBO course for medical secretaries and doctors’ assistants, was a household name in the medical world for decades. The curtain falls on June 30 – director Carla Henrotte (63) retires. “You’re never done.”
Mention the name Henrotte and numerous doctor’s assistants and medical secretaries in Amsterdam and far and wide will prick up their ears for a moment, and sink into a nostalgic reverie for a short time. Let’s go back to the NAMS/ASOP, the private secondary vocational education for medical secretary and doctor’s assistant, in that old cozy building with creaking stairs. Where director Eltje Henrotte-Kerkhof strode through the corridors in stocking feet, wiped the tables with a cloth herself, always handed out two drops during exams and was there so early every morning that it seemed she had spent the night there. This was also the case in the early years: the Henrotte family, owners of the course, lived on the floor above the school on Lutmastraat.
Pupils spent no more than a year of their lives there, and yet sites such as Schoolbank.nl are teeming with fond memories. Eltje and her husband Koos Henrotte have supplied thousands of skilled doctors’ assistants and medical secretaries over the past decades. “’We should have started an employment agency, then we would have walked in,’ they sometimes sighed when a GP called for the umpteenth time to see if we still had someone,” says daughter Carla Henrotte, now director of NAMS/ASOP.
She grew up with the education, which was closely intertwined with their family life. “It almost went without saying that I went there myself in 1979. I trained as a medical secretary and when I was free, I taught typing to my classmates,” she says.
Her father Koos Henrotte took over the Strietman Institute in 1972 and gave typing lessons and bookkeeping to students of the Amsterdam Foundation for Training Practitioner Assistants (ASOP). The course has been located in the same building since 1947. Later he became the owner of the ASOP himself and together with his wife Eltje founded the Dutch Academy for Medical Secretary (NAMS).
The Henrotte couple put their heart and soul into their school. First in Lutmastraat and Planciusstraat, later in Donker Curtiusstraat, where daughter Carla took over the management. She started running the course with her good friend Irene Schavemaker (55).
Small influx
Since 2015, the NAMS/ASOP has been housed in a collective building in the Zekeringstraat in Amsterdam’s Westpoort. Another, more modern building in a corner of the city, but the atmosphere is still the same: warm and personal. A round coat rack full of coats, bowls of delicacies. Semmie, the white ‘domestic dog’ of the school, skips down the hall.
Fifty pupils, spread over two classes, take lessons from six subject teachers every Tuesday. They supplement this with 540 hours of self-study and 520 hours of internship, in which they learn practical skills. Today, it is mainly adult women between the ages of 18 and 60. “Returners, for example. Women who get more time when the children are grown, or flight attendants who undergo retraining. It used to be more school leavers. They had classes five days a week. Twenty years ago we reduced that to one day,” says internship coordinator Irene Schavemaker.
When higher demands were made on doctor’s assistants from 1998, this caused a considerable influx of students to the ASOP. “Previously, the wife of the GP often acted as an assistant. That was no longer legally possible. Doctors’ assistants now had to be certified. We benefited from that,” explains Henrotte.
Really motivated
On the table is a generous assortment of biscuits; entirely in the spirit of Eltje Henrotte, who always provided a full bowl. “She was 77 years old and worked at the school until her death in 2010. When my father died in 1986, I continued the education with my mother,” says Carla Henrotte.
Rob van der Tol (69), subject teacher of English, Dutch and social skills, remembers that well. “Each morning they sat together early to spread two slices of white bread for their breakfast. Although Mrs. Henrotte was director and owner, she cleaned the tables herself after every lesson and emptied trash cans. I liked that.”
Henrotte: “My mother always said: be proud of your profession and master it well. We still do a lot of things that my parents introduced.”
For example, an interview with management has been part of the admission procedure from the start. “During that conversation, we look at whether someone is really motivated. That is important, because it is hard work, especially if you combine training with a family or other job. We select passionate students. Our success rate is therefore 90 to 95 percent,” says Schavemaker.
Wietske Levinson (59), who followed the training for medical secretary in 1983, still remembers that entrance interview well. “The requirements were quite strict, but when you left school you were half a doctor. You had many different subjects: pathology, anatomy, diagnostics, medical administration. Mrs Henrotte was the driving force. She had a photographic memory and knew exactly who you were and what you did, even after you left school. The NAMS/ASOP had a good reputation, so that I could immediately start working with a general practitioner with my diploma.”
From practice
Louise van der Kolff (67) and her two sisters have also benefited greatly from the training to become a medical secretary and doctor’s assistant. All three quickly found jobs in the medical field. “You learn a lot: from English medical terminology to the complete administration of a general practice. Even if you end up doing something else with it, you have solid knowledge that you can put to good use. My two sons also went to ASOP on my advice.”
Van der Kolff maintained such a relationship with the school that after her own exam she continued to calligraph the names on the diplomas for twenty-five years. “When I got my diploma, I wanted it to be handwritten. Mister Henrotte allowed me to put my name on it myself. He suggested describing the rest of the diplomas at the same time. I continued to do that for a while.”
Levinson has such a beautifully written diploma in her possession. She still works as a medical secretary in various departments of the Flevoziekenhuis in Almere. “It turned out that one of my former teachers worked there as a cardiologist. We reminisced about the NAMS/ASOP.”
The subject teachers often combine their work at the ASOP with their job in medical care, so that they can tell students from practice. “They often hang on to my every word and find it fascinating to hear what I experience in a busy city hospital and how I deal with it,” says Brigitte Gons (60), who teaches anatomy and works as a nurse in the OLVG, among other things.
Ron Eerdhuijsen (67) teaches math and biometrics, and worked in a medical laboratory. “It is precisely because I see what sometimes goes wrong in practice that I can teach prospective doctor’s assistants how to do it right. For example, by thinking more from the patient’s point of view. Prior to an eye treatment, tell them that you are not allowed to drive a car afterwards, because it is very annoying if the patient only hears on the spot and is already there by car.”
Changing requirements
This year, the very last class of ASOP will graduate, with the wise lessons of the teachers in their pockets. Henrotte runs her hand over the school tables with wooden tops. “We already had these tables in the past. They are picked up in no time and given a second life in Ghana.”
The program will close its doors for good on 1 July after more than 75 years. “That has several reasons. The rental contract is about to expire and all teachers are or are about to retire. myself too. Our training is small-scale, so we do everything ourselves, from ICT to administration. The requirements of the inspection are high and constantly changing. That takes us a lot of time. Irene and I work day and night for the school, including holidays and weekends. You’re never done. I look back on it with great pleasure, but I also like to have some rest. Although I do think that the general practitioners will miss our medical secretaries and doctor’s assistants.”
