My child is about to start kindergarten, and I find myself pondering how to approach school cafeteria food. Reflecting on my own experiences in public school during the ’80s, my parents never allowed me to buy school lunches. With several food allergies, my mom struggled to find anything safe for me to eat. Plus, she viewed those meals as unhealthy—and frankly, gross.
Looking at our district’s current lunch menu reminds me that not much has changed. In just one week, the choices include fried burgers, fried chicken, and fried cheese. Chocolate milk, sweeter than many desserts, is a daily staple. However, it’s not just the high levels of salt, sugar, or fat that concern me. It’s the overall blandness of the food. I know creating nutritious, tasty meals on a budget for a large group is a tough task, and I respect the challenge schools face. But should I really encourage my child to opt for the school lunch when I suspect it might rival hospital food in flavor?
Actually, I’m leaning toward letting him try it. Here’s my reasoning: Forbidden food often becomes alluring. As a child, I yearned for the grilled cheese and tomato soup scents wafting through the school. There was a dish called American Chop Suey—an unholy mix of macaroni, ground beef, and tomato sauce—that still haunts my culinary dreams. My food restrictions were maddening. I once devoured 17 forbidden Twinkies, which landed me in the hospital. I may very well be the only adult who still fantasizes about school lunches from three decades ago.
While I find the school meals unappealing, I realize that this is merely my opinion. Recently, my son enjoyed a terrible hamburger and soggy fries from a questionable diner, declaring it the best meal he’d ever had. I want to refine his taste buds so he learns what “good” food means, but it’s essential to let him develop his palate at his own pace. Shielding him from certain foods will likely make them even more enticing.
I’ve been following guidance from feeding expert Ellyn Satter, who promotes a concept called “division of responsibility.” In this approach, the parent chooses what food to serve, while the child decides how much to eat. While I could assert control by packing his lunch exclusively, I fear that completely banning school lunches might create a forbidden fruit scenario, much like my own experiences. For instance, Satter suggests occasionally offering a plate piled high with treats, allowing children to indulge without judgment. This teaches them self-regulation.
So, here’s my plan: we’ll review the lunch menu together and select a couple of days each week when he can purchase his meal rather than always bringing his own. This approach introduces him to navigating choices in the real world, where temptations abound, many of which aren’t necessarily healthy or appetizing. I appreciate Satter’s method because it allows children to learn how to make informed decisions without rejecting the surrounding culture. In adulthood, they’ll encounter vending machines, fast food, and questionable hotel breakfasts. We hope to instill a balanced diet at home, filled with wholesome meals, yet also grant him the flexibility to savor an occasional stale pastry without it being a crisis.
Who knows? He might find those school lunches surprisingly tasty. Schools today offer more nutritious options, including kale salad and ginger-sesame coleslaw, which are a far cry from what I experienced. However, one nostalgic dish is still missing: American Chop Suey.
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In summary, I’ve decided to allow my child to experience school lunches, hoping it will foster a healthy relationship with food and encourage him to make wise choices as he grows.