I really am at a place where I think we need to feed every child

Hear the words of Alice Waters, a voice both gentle and fierce, who declared with wisdom born of care: “I really am at a place where I think we need to feed every child at school for free and feed them a real school lunch that’s sustainable and nutritious and delicious. It needs to be part of the curriculum of the school in the same way that physical education was part of the curriculum, and all children participated.” These are not the words of a chef alone, but of a teacher, a mother of nations, who sees that the nourishment of the body is the foundation of the nourishment of the mind.

The ancients knew this truth well. Plato himself declared that the health of the body shapes the health of the soul, and that education must never be separated from the care of flesh and spirit alike. The Spartans trained their youth not only in arms but in discipline of food, knowing that the meal itself was a form of instruction. Alice Waters stands in this same lineage, teaching that a meal is not a trivial break in learning but a sacred classroom, where children learn about earth, about gratitude, about the connection between labor, land, and life.

Consider the great Roman practice of the convivium—the shared table—where meals were not only about sustenance but about teaching values, passing wisdom, and forming bonds. Those who dined together also grew together. In the same way, Waters envisions a world where the school lunch is not an afterthought wrapped in plastic, but an act of culture, of sustainability, of beauty. The table becomes part of the curriculum, as vital as books and athletics, shaping not only minds but whole beings.

Yet she also warns of the danger of neglect. In lands and times where children were fed poorly, their strength and their futures faltered. We see this truth in the Industrial Age, when working children in Europe and America were starved of proper meals, and their growth stunted, their education undermined. Reformers fought for food in schools not out of charity alone, but because they knew a hungry child cannot learn. Waters lifts this cry anew, calling us to remember that to feed the young is to build the nation’s future.

Her words also carry the spirit of equality. Just as physical education was given to all, rich and poor alike, so too must food be shared freely. A school table where some children feast while others go hungry is not a table of learning but of shame. By making meals universal, we teach dignity, community, and justice. We teach children that life itself is sustained not by division, but by sharing. In this way, the humble lunch becomes a lesson in citizenship, in compassion, in humanity itself.

The lesson, O listener, is clear: if you would build a strong people, begin by feeding the children. Do not leave their bodies to chance, nor their meals to poverty. Make food part of their education—food that is nutritious, that honors the earth, that awakens joy. For the child who eats with health learns with clarity; the child who is fed with dignity grows into an adult who respects himself and others.

Therefore, let Alice Waters’ words endure as a call to action: invest not only in books, but in gardens; not only in gyms, but in kitchens; not only in lessons of the mind, but in lessons of the table. Let every school lunch become both sustenance and sacrament, a daily ritual that teaches balance, gratitude, and the art of living well. For in nourishing the young with care, we do more than feed them—we plant within them the seeds of a future that is both sustainable and good.