Towards the end of 2002, my sister sent me the transcript of Dr. Philip Landrigan’s Congressional testimony on Environmental Threats to Children’s Health in America’s Schools.  He carefully coupled his assertion that schools should be free from environmental threats like lead, asbestos and pesticides with an assurance that tested measures could be implemented to minimize the risks. 

My sister and I went on to study countless articles by Dr. Landrigan on pesticides and children’s health and were inspired to make many of his recommended changes to improve the indoor air quality of our homes.  A year or so later when we conceived of a conference on children’s health, I telephoned Dr. Landrigan for his advice.  While it seems strangely forward now, his was the only authoritative voice on these issues that I’d yet to hear and I desperately wanted to share his message with my small community.  He was incredibly gracious and informative, but what struck me most in the conversation was his cautioning that I not wait for community consensus before doing what I know is right for my children.  He observed that sometimes it takes ten years between good science and public policy change, and that I might very well find myself a “mom in between.”

I think of that sometimes – when I can’t believe that I’m still talking about food or that they’re still spraying industrial pesticides on the soccer field – and when I wonder whether any of our efforts have really made a difference.  I know that people who attended Let’s Talk Lunch switched to organic milk.  I know that members of our Health and Wellness coffees started washing their floors with vinegar.  I know that I’ve spread the word about DrGreene.com, Healthy Child, Healthy World, and Lunch Lessons.  So maybe we’re not quite to the point of major public policy change, but I feel good that I’ve created at least a few more informed “moms (dads, grandparents and teachers) in between.”

As for my daughters’ school, I think we failed in a pretty significant way.  Yes, they added organic milk and produce to the existing menu, but the program lacks the broad vision necessary for the cafeteria to be a classroom, for the food service to be educational.  And the vast majority of our local schools are exactly where they were a decade ago – serving kids highly-processed foods laden with salt, fat, preservatives, coloring, refined sugar and refined flour.  However, thanks to the sheer tenacity of a few committed individuals, quite a few of the schools have gardens and there are plans for even more.  A farm-to-school effort is brewing downstate.  And a group of dedicated education advocates and policymakers have joined the school food discussion.

I am encouraged by the coverage of upcoming reauthorization of the Child Nutrition Act.  I am encouraged by the White House Garden.  I am encouraged that Alice Waters and Ann Cooper and Jamie Oliver and Tony Geraci and Alan and Cheryl Greene and Meryl Streep and Christopher Gavigan and Ken Cook and Philip Landrigan and Thianda Manzara continue their important work.  Today, as we look at the lessons of the past year and our hopes and goals for the next, I resolve to continue, in my small way, to move our world closer to making fresh, whole, regional, seasonal, and sustainable food available to all children.

Success begets success.  And the good news for school food advocates today is that there are fabulously successful, comprehensive programs all across the country that we can spotlight and model.  Chef Bobo continues to do great things at The Calhoun School in New York, Revolution Foods is expanding their innovative venture, Jamie Oliver has brought his star power to West Virginia, and Chef Tony Geraci is the man to watch in Baltimore City.

Farm to School programs are gaining momentum, and many chefs are recognizing the natural partnership between farm to school and school food reform.  (See Tony Geraci, www.washingtonpost.com/.)  As you plan your research, note that the national farm to school website has a fantastic page that lists current and archived articles from across the country about farm to school and school food initiatives, www.farmtoschool.org/medias.php.

In addition, many of the earliest innovators in the school food arena, including Alice Waters and Ann Cooper, have been recording their experiences over the years and now offer a wealth of resources for beginning advocates.  Be sure to include a reading of:

• Alice Waters, Chez Panisse: Principles of an Edible Education: A Vision for School Lunch -  shares with community leaders, educators, and parents the five principles that have guided -  and continue to inspire – their vision for school lunch in Berkeley, and in lunchrooms across  America.*
• Alice Waters, Chez Panisse: What You Need to Know about School Lunch – demystifies the  forces controlling the National School Lunch Program, and gives policymakers, educators, and parents strategies for how to change school lunch in their communities.*
• Alice Waters, Chez Panisse: Lunch Matters: How to Feed Our Children Better – a policy paper  that describes the changes made to school lunch in Berkeley. Policymakers and food service directors will be interested in learning about cost, participation rates, and how they were able  to get one hundred percent of their vendors to cook fresh food for all kids in Berkeley.*
• Ann Cooper: Lunch Lessons: Changing the Way We Feed Our Children (2006) – includes  strategies for parents and school administrators to become engaged with issues around school  food.  Also includes successful case studies of reform, extensive resources, and kid-friendly  recipes for home and school.**

In addition to Ann’s book, her website is a clearinghouse for valuable school food resources and information.  For example, her “Cool Food Tools” feature includes a downloadable version of Mapping School Food, a policy perspective from the Public Health Advocacy Guide, and the Model Wellness Policy Guide by the Center for Ecoliteracy.  She also includes her own rendition of a healthy meal visual – the Meal Wheel.  It’s colorful and clear and a great discussion-starter for kids.  Go to www.chefann.com.

Another important destination as you begin your research is Ann’s newest online initiative, The Lunch Box.  When completed the website will provide an unbelievable host of resources, from  nutritionally-analyzed scalable recipes to training tools for lunchroom personnel.  Dedicate a few minutes to the video tour and consider donating to support the completion of the site, www.thelunchbox.org.  In a very real way, Ann’s successes bring all of us closer to our shared goal of providing fresh, nutritious food to every school student in America.

*  From http://www.chezpanissefoundation.org/publications**  From http://www.chefann.com/html/about-chef-ann/books.html

Years ago, when I first approached school administrators about their food policy, I took for granted that logic and science would inform and direct their decisions.  It seemed a fair assumption in light of their thoughtful treatment of other issues – from faculty selection to curriculum development to security policy to athletic schedules.  But while intellect prevailed in every other facet of school life, the food discussion went straight to emotion – and extreme emotion – yelling, judging, name-calling and fist-waving.

Truth is, I didn’t see it coming.  I’m a researcher by nature and training, so while I am certainly motivated by emotion – love for my children – I tend to intellectualize important decisions.  And of all the issues, food seemed the most straightforward: Science and common sense tell us that food affects children’s health, behavior and performance, so we should make every effort to feed them the best, most nutritious food possible.  But as the food debate in our school and community spiraled to an angry, poisonous peak, I found myself ill-equipped to counter the personal attacks and divisive posturing.  And while no one likes to be called nasty names by people they’ve never met, I was honestly more disturbed that the important discussion of school food had been hijacked.  We were in such an emotional and unproductive place, and no amount of reason or data could get us back on track.

A low point came during a meeting with nutrition supervisors from across the city.  A colleague of mine did a short briefing on the exciting work of Chef Bobo, Ann Cooper and Lee Allinger who were charting a course towards fresher, more nutritious school food for every child in America.  I remember thinking how poised and compelling a presenter she was, when from the back of the room came a throaty “You people just don’t understand.  You can’t take away their Ding Dongs.”  Before any of us could process her comment, the food services director of a statewide community aid program had risen to her feet.  With tears in her eyes, she pleaded with us to understand that breakfast cakes made the children really happy, and that for some of the pre-schoolers it was the only food – the only source of happiness – in their entire day.  Visibly moved, my colleague asked quietly, “Well, if that is the only food that those babies are going to eat all day, shouldn’t it be the absolute-most nutritious food we can manage?”  I know that she said it out of love and I know just as well that it was taken as judgment.  Hence the lunge across the table that we jokingly/nervously came to call the Ding Dong assault.  Our effort to “improve” school food was taken as an indictment of an entire philosophy of childcare.

And while I’ll leave it to the social scientists to explore in depth, I must note that some variation of “the Ding Dongs make them happy” presented itself at every turn.  Countless debates arose over Snickers bars, Kool-Aid and hot dogs – not the experiential kind at festivals or ballparks, but the Monday through Friday kind and whether they should be part of an educational food policy.  The discussions were heated and circular and often culminated with one school administrator or another saying “My mom fed us hot dogs and blue juice and we turned out ok.”  End of discussion.

It was my grandmother who observed that food is inextricably linked to people’s notions of love and mothering.  If you’re not careful, she said, they’ll think you’re saying they’re bad moms, or – worse yet – that their moms were.  Hence the elevated passions, the screaming matches, the lunge across the table and the resultant lesson: Tread carefully when you’re talking about someone’s mother.  And with food, you always are.

I’m a mission statement person.  I find that the more work you do at the front end of program development – mission statement, definitions and goals – the easier things flow through implementation.  If you’re entering the school food arena now, the good news is that you’ve got a plethora of thoughtful, nuanced and tested definitions to use as a reference. 

Before you conclude which one is right for your community, however, you must ask yourself, “Who’s the decider?” If it’s you – if you happen to be the governor of a state or the secretary of education or the superintendent of a school – then (with all due respect) go directly to Ann Cooper’s Lunch Lessons and her website, www.chefann.com.  Chef Ann feeds children real food.  She did it in Berkeley and she’s doing it in Colorado, and she can show you how to do it too.

If you’re the decider and you believe that school children should be fed fresh whole foods cooked from scratch, you’re just a few hiring decisions away from that becoming a reality. If, however, it’s not you – if you’re a teacher or a school nurse or a parent like me – your job will be to convince the decider.  Still read Lunch Lessons, but then head to the Harvard School of Public Health website, www.hsph.harvard.edu/nutritionsource, for an important alternative to the USDA food pyramid.

I’ve heard both Dr. Greene and Ann speak eloquently and at length about the USDA and it’s pyramid, so I’ll limit my comments to the parent advocacy problem – the processed chicken nuggets, syrupy peaches and microwaved sausage biscuits that you’re trying to get replaced meet all of the USDA guidelines.  The government says they’re “healthy.”  Strategically, you’ll need to proffer an alternate definition to use as the foundation of your request for reform.

The advantages to the HSPH guidelines are that they’re 1) authoritative, 2) science-based, and 3) clearly articulated.  They offer an alternative pyramid and detailed food service guidelines.  Most significantly, the HSPH definitions will move you beyond the USDA nutrition-by-the-numbers to a qualitative consideration of ingredients and menus.

In addition to providing the framework for a qualitative nutritional analysis, espousing the HSPH guidelines will enable you to elevate the subjective discussion of “what is healthy?” to an objective one.  In almost every meeting with a school principal or headmaster, I was told that for every “organic mom” there were four “choco-taco moms” (or some variation thereof – “hot dog moms,” “cupcake moms”) ready to beat down their door.

Never have I experienced labeling associated with any other educational priority (“math mom!”), nor have I witnessed school administrations so flummoxed by divergent parent opinion.  (To their credit, it might be the beating down the door part – as we’ll discuss tomorrow food does make people awfully emotional.)

The perfect solution, then, is to invite your administrators to rise above the subjective discourse to an objective standard – a logical, science-based nutritional foundation from which all food service decisions can flow. The disadvantage to the HSPS guidelines is that they might not go as far as you’d like to go.  They won’t get you to organic or regional or seasonal or sustainable or fair trade.  However, depending on your community – and your decider – it might be the appropriate goal.  At least it might be a necessary first step, after which you can build community support for your additional goals.

In human rights work, it’s called the “moment of obligation” – the moment when some story, some person’s pain, some injustice strikes your heart in a way that defines it as your own.  Immediately thereafter comes the realization that you simply must do something about it.

My mom jokes that my first moment of obligation came in preschool when I took up the case of a classmate who was being sent home for a minor potty training infraction.  The ensuing decades found me serially and passionately linked to one cause or another – from urban poverty to African children’s rights to sustainable agriculture to special education law.  It was a great surprise to everyone then (including me) when I decided to step out of the fray when my first daughter was born.  Despite the chorus of admonitions that I was committing career suicide, I was enormously confident in my decision to stay home.  Looking back, I love that I treasured those early years.  I remember how good it felt to feed my girls beautiful, fresh organic food, to lay them to bed on a chemical-free mattress, to color their room with milky VOC-free paint.  I found a fun and supportive community of like-minded moms with whom I split cases of natural diapers and shared information about glass bottles, PVC-free toys and cleaner cleaning supplies.  Money was definitely tight without the second income, but my husband and I made sacrifices and drew strength from the fact that our informed and thoughtful decisions had created a peaceful and healthy home for our little girls.

And then they went to school . . . blue juice, carpet glue and ant spray . . . donuts, nutty buddies, and uncrustables . . . How could it be? I just had to do something.