Sept. 17, 2009

My son has discovered Hot Lunch.

Harry’s in first grade. That means that last week when school reconvened, I had to stare down that much avoided ethical issue that all first-timers face and take a stand: Should I support school lunch, or a healthy digestive system?

It was a relatively easy decision, especially since I support my own lazy habits first and foremost. It took me about five seconds to sign us up for “Automatic Withdrawal” each month. Child fed, conscience clear.
Besides, I told myself, in today’s health-conscious society, how bad can school lunches be? I felt pretty darn certain that my kid would be offered a relatively fibrous fill. The old Mystery Casserole Friday is long gone, right?

Somehow when he came home from school that first day, raving about how awesome school lunch was, I felt slightly skeptical. This skepticism increased when he told me he’d eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (“on white bread with no crust!”), a chocolate milk and a cookie.

“Um,” I said, “Wasn’t there any fruit?”

“Yeah, but we don’t have to eat that stuff.”

Oh heavenly days, ignorance was so much more appetizing.

Since when were kids given a choice at lunch? When I was growing up, lunch came around to our homerooms on a stinky, squeaky cart, prepackaged and ready to go. You picked up your little tray and made do with the wilted pizza and soggy tater tots nestled under the tinfoil. Sound bad? Trust me, it was a step up from what Mama sent.

Cold lunch consisted of a sandwich — usually containing tuna fish or processed meat blanketed with a dying piece of lettuce — and fruit. We had none of those fancy, snacky foods that the privileged kids received. No sir. In my elementary experience, hot lunch was a real treat.

(One time my sister cried hungry in an attempt to trick our mother into investing in more desirable lunchtime fare, like chips. The next day, she opened her brown sack and found two sandwiches. How filling.)

Still, I continue clinging to the belief that my son is receiving a square meal, not one of those crust-free, nutrient-free empty calorie fillers. I’ve managed to kid myself for the past week and a half, thinking that if I just don’t ask then I won’t have to deal with the ethical consequences.

But every stinking day that kid wants to tell me what he ate for lunch. Today about put me over the edge.
“We had meat today at lunch,” he says. “Meat is healthy, right mom?” As you can see, he’s been getting lectures on health for the past week and a half.

“Sure, meat is healthy, son,” I ask cautiously. “So, what kind of meat was it?”

“Well, it was kind of shaped like a square. I think it was like dog meat or sumpin’.”

“Um … dog meat?”

“Yeah. That’s what it looked like.”

And he was okay with that. Kill me now.

See more at Annie's blog at regardingannie.com