A ribbon of twenty children winds up the hill between the pine trees. The youngest is only 3, the oldest 9, but to her delight, leader Marika Cazzaniga sees from under her straw hat that none of them complain about the heat (38 degrees) or distance (at least a kilometer, with altimeters).
Little Elias has even decided to carry up a heavy branch, next to him Teo drags a block of wood and two stones from the bushes. The children spend their summer days at Villa Doria Pamphili. Once a 16th-century estate belonging to a noble family, it’s now a gigantic park full of climbing trees and pine needle-strewn winding paths close to the center of Rome.
There Cazzaniga (46), originally a kindergarten teacher in Waldorf education, leads one of the many centri estivi in Italy. The summer shelter, where parents drop off children in the morning and pick them up in the evening, is essential to keep the country running from mid-June to mid-September, as the school holidays last three months here.
While the children cheer when the last school bell rings in mid-June, many parents are left with their hands in their hair from that moment on. Most can take a few weeks off, especially if half of the country goes on the summer lock in August. But then there are still more than two months left.
Anyone who does not have helpful babysitting grandparents in the area is left at the mercy of the – paid – childcare of the centro estivo. They come in all shapes and sizes imaginable: sports, theatre, horses, dance. With a swimming pool and loud music blaring from speakers, or in the middle of nature.
No lack of enthusiasm
Founder Marina Di Marco (48) has seen it all. She’s been working in the summer camp sector since she was 20, she says, a kilometer away from the park, in the basement of the local church (from which the camp is further apart). Here she leads a second group, who spend the days in the spacious play complex of the parish.
About six years ago, she decided, together with her husband, to start her own shelter in their Roman neighborhood of Monteverde. There is no lack of enthusiasm, now that the typical summer activity of the past – mother takes the children to the sea, father commutes between the coast and the office – is no longer feasible, both financially and socially.
The increase in single parents also increases the demand for summer care. ‘You can open a centro estivo wherever you want,’ says Di Marco, whose organization takes in about sixty children. The limiting factor is not so much the demand, but the staff.
Their summer care is especially popular because they accept children from eighteen months. This distinguishes the centro estivo from most other summer camps, which only start from pre-school age. It is much more practical for parents with several children, Di Marco explains, because otherwise they have to take them to two places and pick them up.
A significant expense
And yes, the leader nods, she does talk about parents, but in practice it is almost always the mothers who arrange childcare for their children. ‘In Italy, the mother is still the linchpin of the family.’ Her own daughters from a previous marriage are now teenagers, but she also remembers well how difficult it was sometimes to fill a long summer.
Fathers often speak on behalf of their wives when dropping off or collecting them, camp leader Cazzaniga also notes. “Then they say: I have to pass this on from my wife.” However, she sees the involvement gradually increasing. And when little Nikolai has to be picked up a little later after a fall on his elbow and a big cry, it is indeed his father who rushes into the park within half an hour, worried from work.
Bridging the summer holidays requires not only organisation, but also money. On average, a week of centro estivo costs 168 euros, according to the Italian consumer organization. The prices of Di Marco and Ciurlia are still relatively friendly, at 100 euros per week (plus an additional cost for an included lunch), but they are nevertheless a considerable expense. Especially with more than one child.
Despite this, a third of Italian parents send their children to summer shelters for at least a week. Most are private foundations, such as Di Marco’s shelter. In addition, there are public centers that are less expensive, organized by municipalities or regional authorities.
Yet that is not an option for many, Di Marco explains, because you have to prove that you have a low income. The problem is that many parents, who work in a shop or restaurant for example, earn little, but because they cannot provide a contract as proof.
Learning loss due to the long summer
Periodically, discussions flare up in Italy about the three-month summer vacation, which is one of the longest in Europe. The length is not only due to the heat, which makes the often outdated school buildings practically impassable in summer, but, like in many other countries, dates from the time when children had to help on the land during the harvest months.
Meanwhile, the holiday mainly causes a reception problem and education experts also point to the loss of knowledge during the long summer, which is particularly great in poor families. That is also why Marina Di Marco would be in favor of a six-week holiday like in the Netherlands, she nods.
But even after long school closures due to the pandemic, the shortening of the summer vacation has encountered too much resistance from the education sector to continue. There have been special summer schools since last year, funded by the Ministry of Education to make up for the learning loss, but most of them only last a few weeks at the most.
Their shelter is not a school, Di Marco emphasizes, but children do learn something. They are creative or playing in nature, but the approach at their centro estivo is completely different than at the average Italian school, says Cazzaniga in the park. She led her group, along with two colleagues, to a field at the top of the hill and parked it on rugs in the shade.
Not suitable for helicopter parents
Lara and Alia climb a tree a bit further away, brothers Elias and Julian run wild after each other, little Isabel has fished a toy bow and arrow from the big cart with toys. “You can shoot that way, where nobody is,” Cazzaniga points out calmly.
Their centro estivo is not suitable for so-called helicopter parents, who want to protect their child from every scratch. Cazzaniga leaves the children as free as possible against this protective tendency, according to the worldwide known Montessori principle ‘help me do it myself’.
Though the creator Maria Montessori came from Italy, her teachings were never much imitated in the regular school system. Most public schools are rather traditional, Cazzaniga says, with tightly planned curricula, limited electives, and a clear hierarchy.
In addition, in the last two years, children from 6 years old always had to wear a mouth cap and there were strict rules about the exchange of toys and playing together in groups. Here, at the summer camp in the park, those times seem to be over for good.
The children regularly fly around Cazzaniga’s neck, get pats on the head and comforting hugs after the many inevitable stumbles over tree roots. ‘I missed you so much’, Micol (9), who was out of town with her family last week, confides to her teacher when they walk side by side.
Only in August does the centro estivo close for two weeks, only to reopen for the tail end of the holiday. Cazzaniga doesn’t mind working through the summer. “Working outdoors with children is my passion,” she says, between admiring block towers and wiping children’s noses. “And it’s desperately needed.”