Lunch Ban Is Baloney

Friday, May 6, 2011

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Lunch Ban Is Baloney

By J’AMY PACHECO

There’s been much written over the past few weeks about a Chicago school’s decision to ban lunches brought from home.

As I understand it, the ban has been in place for several years but only recently made national news. Regardless of how and when it came to light, it made me think about how I would react if I was told I could no longer send lunch to school with my child.

At 15, my daughter is old enough to pack her own lunches. But as busy as she is with homework and other activities, I’d rather let her have the extra 10 minutes of sleep in the morning and put the food in the bag myself.

I send lunches because she refuses to eat the food served in her school cafeteria. When she started high school, she dismissed the possibility simply based on logistics. With 3,000 students all eating at once, she figured she would get to the front just as the bell signaled the end of the lunch period. When she got a look at some of the food served, she pronounced it “gross,” and vowed to never buy a hot lunch at school.

Growing up, I almost never bought lunch. My siblings and I made our own lunches, and usually took bologna sandwiches made on white bread spread with mayonnaise – because that’s what we had.

By junior high, when I lived in the desert and kept my lunch in a metal outdoor locker, I learned to throw those sandwiches away. Today, just thinking about the look of those warm-mayo, sweaty bologna sandwiches makes my stomach turn. (Yours too, I would imagine. Sorry.)

I remember sneaking things like fruitcake into my lunch bag so I’d have something to eat after I threw the sandwich away. I kid you not. Fruitcake.

My daughter has never tasted bologna, or fruitcake. The first elementary school she attended had a talented lunch lady who prepared tasty meals. My daughter usually ate a homemade lunch carried in a Barbie lunchbox, but bought lunch every time the menu included pizza, or open-faced turkey sandwiches.

I had one of those turkey sandwiches at her next school, which had a rather cranky lunch lady who actually employed a monitor to make sure students didn’t take more than two carrot sticks. The meal was so salty that my fingers were swollen for the rest of the day. Ugh.

In sixth grade, we had it made. The teacher had a microwave in his classroom, and allowed students to use it at lunchtime. This opened up a whole new realm of possibilities, and my daughter made quesadillas and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.

When she entered junior high, she liked the cafeteria food. This was primarily because they served hash browns with almost everything, and my daughter loves hash browns. She also earned a “good grades” card that allowed her to go to lunch early several days a week, ensuring she would arrive in time to get the pizza the school had brought in from a local pizzeria – and the hash browns that went along with it.

Mornings were easier when lunches didn’t need to be packed. But that ended when we moved to a new school district, and my daughter swore she would never eat the slop she saw on her friends’ trays.

A Chicago teacher spent a year eating the same cafeteria lunches as those offered to her students, and blogging about the experience. Some of the meals looked okay, but for others, the “gross” designation definitely fit.

Homemade lunches aren’t easy. My daughter won’t eat any kind of meat on a sandwich unless it’s been kept cold. In a crowded backpack, there isn’t a lot of room for lunch, let alone cooling devices. That left us with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches which, I eventually discovered, were getting thrown away.

I finally realized it was easier to drop off a lunch every day at noon. The high school is only about two miles away, and by delivering lunch, I can drop off whatever I want with no thought of keeping it hot or cold. This is especially helpful on the days when I haven’t been to the store, or just can’t get it together in the morning in time to make a good lunch.

I discovered that quite a few parents do this. One of them explained to me that a lot of their children are athletes with games after school. A big, healthy lunch is important. So I stand in the lobby and act like my bookish geek is an athlete, too, in need of the well-balanced lunch I hand over in the lobby.

I know what I’m bringing is better than mass-produced food, and I can’t imagine being told I can’t do that – any more than I can imagine sending a bologna and mayo sandwich. Or fruitcake, for that matter.