Parents arguing about how to raise children is hardly new. But at Ombre e Luci, we have something unusual: not just one young person still living at home, but also two grandmothers and two mothers on staff. It's natural, then, that we talk about children and grandchildren and how to raise them—especially because we want to instill values different from those consumer culture keeps pushing at them. Values that actually matter. More fundamental ones.
Yet we find ourselves hearing stories that trouble us. Children come home disheartened because they're the only ones without the collectible cards everyone else has. They feel left out, isolated from their friends because they don't have a cellphone yet. They're defenseless, really—naive in the face of everything consumer society tells them they need to be happy. We can't always simply dismiss these worries as silly things that will pass, because we've also heard of cases that started this way and ended badly.
We want to explore this on these pages (starting here) because the conversation here carries a different weight than what you'd find in other magazines that cover education. Put plainly: reading Ombre e Luci, hearing the stories presented here, learning what some men and women have managed to create to help those in difficulty—all of this has taught us to weigh differently what our children actually need. A school administrator once described certain parents as "seduced by educational narcissism and competition, idolizing the perfect child," and as "devastated by myths of beauty and success rather than true love and life's essential values." Harsh words, perhaps, not meant for most of us. But they point to real struggles, to the lack of direction that even a parent can feel—and then pass on to their children.
In our last issue, a mother asked how to teach children to look toward those who suffer. Now we want to broaden that question: How do we educate for difference? How do we help our children ask better questions—questions deeper than "Will you buy this for me?"
Cristina, 2004