The Huber family's house near Zurich is rumbling. No wonder, after all, eight boys' feet are running up the stairs. Then the quartet stands in the kitchen and demands a snack. Cornelia Huber laughs and gently pushes her son aside. "Then let's see what we've got."

Lukas frowns and runs his hand through his dark mop of hair. The twelve-year-old has always known why he doesn't look like his parents Cornelia and Robert. They adopted Lukas as a baby. He was born in Zurich, but his biological parents are from Slovakia. We can speculate about what skin tone they have. "At first, we were just happy to have a baby," says Cornelia Huber. "We only noticed its appearance and its effect when people started asking about its origin."

This still happens regularly today. "Even in kindergarten I was asked what language I spoke at home. And again and again at school. What am I supposed to say? I speak Swiss German," says Lukas. His friends Arian and Dorian feel the same way. The twelve-year-old twins were born in Switzerland, their parents come from Sri Lanka. "The constant questions about where I come from are annoying," says Dorian. "But I don't actually find it racist."

Judith Jordáky from the Zürcher Anlaufstelle Rassismus ZüRAS sees it differently: "The question "Where are you from?" is racist because it is marginalising. It suggests that you don't belong." According to Jordáky, the question of mother tongue should also not be discussed with the child, or even in the presence of others. "Children in particular are very sensitive and don't want to be 'different'. Instead, you should endeavour to convey that diversity is not only completely okay, but also totally normal."

575 incidents of racism were recorded by 22 counselling centres in Switzerland in 2019. 352 of these were analysed according to the evaluation report by the Federal Commission against Racism FCR and the humanrights.ch association. This is more than twice as many as ten years ago - although it should be noted that the number of counselling centres has almost tripled in this time. Almost one in eight cases concerns children up to and including the age of 16. 11 per cent of reported incidents take place in educational establishments such as schools or daycare centres.

Luana can tell you a thing or two about this. She has already been called "Gaggihaut" in the playground. Or "Schäflihaar". Her mum Biljana Dzemaili tells us. Luana herself doesn't want to talk about these incidents. "Not everyone needs to know!" she says defiantly, and flops down on the sofa at home in Aargau. A drawing hangs on the wall above her. Three suns, labelled "Mum", "Dad" and "Luana". The eight-year-old girl's father comes from Senegal. Her parents separated shortly after Luana was born. Today, her dad lives nearby and they are in regular contact. Even during her pregnancy, Biljana was irritated by some comments from friends. "Sayings like: 'But that wasn't planned, was it?' were still harmless," she says. Later came comments like: "As a single parent with a child of colour, you won't find a man." Biljana takes them in her stride. Not least because she is already used to prejudice thanks to her Serbo-Croatian roots. "I don't allow myself to be forced into a victim role. I want to pass this attitude on to my daughter: You are good the way you are. Don't let anyone else decide how you should be. Do your own thing."

38 per cent of reported incidents of racism in 2019 involved discrimination against dark-skinned people. An experience that Lukas also experiences time and again: "Wash yourself, you're dirty", or "What's it actually like in Africa?" He tries to listen away. Even if it hurts. "Telling on someone" would never be an option for him. "Nothing has actually happened." A "nothing" that means Lukas would rather look like his friend Sven. Blonde, blue-eyed, fair-skinned. "Just normal. Then people wouldn't stare at me like that."

A statement that not only saddens Lukas' parents, but also Sven. "It's funny that I'm often treated differently to him," says the eleven-year-old. Even at school? A study conducted by the University of Mannheim in 2018 points to alarming findings. Student teachers were given dictations to correct, one by "Murat" and one by "Max". Both had identical errors in the same places. On average, "Murat" was graded half a grade lower than "Max". A fact with far-reaching consequences for equal opportunities, write the makers of the study. After all, those who are confronted with lower expectations from the outset often don't even try to be better.

A problem that Lukas does not have. He is popular and has been treated equally and fairly by the teachers so far. Perhaps because of his Swiss name. Perhaps also because his parents have always "made their presence felt more than if we had a light-skinned child", as Cornelia Huber says. She and her husband Robert have always made sure to be visible as Lukas' parents. Both in the neighbourhood and at school. The family also receives support and relief from the Swiss Adoptive Parents' Association SAEV, of which they are members. "The regular exchange on topics such as origin, upbringing or skin colour is valuable. We can also contact the PACH specialist centre for foster and adoptive children at any time for expert advice," says Cornelia Huber.

Up to now, the topics of racism and xenophobia have been marginalised in the curriculum. However, many teachers are addressing it more and more frequently. "I teach classes with a very high proportion of immigrants," says Michelle Kernahan, subject teacher and teacher for integrative support at Kriens LU secondary school. "Racism is always a topic of conversation. Even though - or precisely because - it is incredibly difficult to categorise what is racist and what is not. Kids are allowed to throw a lot more at each other than outsiders." Even the "N-word" is perfectly acceptable among dark-skinned children. "Someone with light skin colour, on the other hand, should never use it."

An open culture of dialogue is important, says the teacher. "If someone feels offended, this is addressed and taken seriously." Judith Jordáky from ZüRAS believes that this is an attitude that many people have not yet realised: "What counts is how something is received by the person concerned. It doesn't matter if you "didn't mean it that way". If a comment or statement upsets or hurts someone, it doesn't matter where it falls on the 'racism spectrum'."

"Gaggihaut. "Sheep hair." Biljana Dzemaili tries to deal with such insults to her daughter very pragmatically. "I explain to her that pigments are responsible for her skin colour. That it protects her skin from the sun, which burns much stronger in the country her dad comes from than here." If she deems it necessary, she seeks dialogue with teachers and the parents of the children who have insulted Luana. However, she is always careful not to fall into a "generalised victim attitude". "Luana also messes up sometimes. And you can't excuse it by saying that she looks different and is therefore attacked from time to time." Teacher Michelle Kernahan has also experienced that people flirt with being different. "Every now and then someone comes up and says: "You only gave me a bad mark because I'm foreign," she says with a laugh. She doesn't think that's a bad thing. On the contrary. "It shows that the children are becoming aware of the issue and are not prepared to accept everything. It's normal for teenagers to try to get something out of it for themselves."

Judith Jordáky appeals to teachers to keep the issue of racism constantly in the back of their minds, and not just when there are current incidents: "They are role models and must set an example of equal treatment." Dorothee Miyoshi, member of the executive board of the umbrella organisation for teachers in Switzerland, echoes this sentiment. "We teachers are subject to stereotypical ways of thinking - and not with malicious intent," she says in an interview with Blick. "We keep repeating them and don't realise that we're being racist in the process."

A survey conducted by the Federal Statistical Office in 2017 shows how little we are aware of our "black and white thinking" - in the truest sense of the word: 57 per cent of Swiss people consider racism to be a "marginal problem" in our country. "Perhaps because it's not always recognisable at first glance," says Biljana Dzemaili. "But Luana, for example, finds it difficult to identify with her school books. Because nobody in them looks like her. The same goes for advertising." She recently looked for a dark-skinned doll, says Biljana. "I couldn't find one. When I approached the shop manager about it, he said I was right - he had never noticed that before. But he promised me he would add one to the range."

The snack at Hubers has been eaten and the boys run outside again. Lukas has just started fifth grade. It won't be long now before he has to think about his career choice. "It would be nice if our son had equal opportunities. Whether that's in everyday life, at school or when looking for an apprenticeship," says Robert Huber. "And it would be even better if his skin colour no longer played such a big role at some point." Biljana Dzemaili also wishes for a more balanced world for Luana: "One that is empathetic and in which privileges are better distributed." A world in which Lukas no longer has to say that he thinks his skin colour is "only moderately beautiful". A world in which half the classroom doesn't laugh when the class of twins Arian and Dorian watch the film "The Black Brothers". "Because really," says twelve-year-old Dorian, "we're all just people. I don't know why that's so hard for some people to understand."