Abstract

A child arrives as a new world because in her and with her we feel that the whole world can start over. But that is not the only reason. A child also arrives as a new world because her arrival tells us what, being so simple, we had almost forgotten: that the world is not just old and unquestionable. The child doesn’t let us be indif-ferent; she breaks with conformity and arrives as hope, reeking of the unpredictable. Of questions. A similar arrival to that of a child is that of certain childlike ideas, such as the idea offered by Matthew Lipman when he created “philosophy for children.” We cele-brate his childlike, daring, irreverent, inquiring character, commemorating his birth nearly 50 years ago. With this childlike idea, a new world began—or at least it be-came possible to start—in worlds which were already a little old and stuck in con-formity. When those in institutionalized philosophy and education heard about the audacity of welcoming children among their reputable interlocutors in dialogue and thought, they frowned and turned up their noses. Philosophy for children? How come? Childhood in philosophy?