School Lunches and Surgical Masks

Lunch-time at Kitagawa primary school is always one of those “We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto!” moments.


photo by Ged

Lunch at primary school back home was generally a matter of finding a free bench and wolfing down a couple of sandwiches before getting stuck into the more serious business of some low-down and reckless playing.

Lunch at Kitagawa Primary is a complex series of rituals that would give a Master Mason a head spin. Here’s the basic rundown:

1. At 12:30, 3rd, 4th and 5th graders file into the Dining Hall in white aprons, white hats and white surgical masks.


2. With chopsticks and ladles, they divide the day’s menu (chosen months in advance by the school nutritionist) proportionally among the members of each table, serving-sizes determined by age and indicated by colour-coded tags on top of each milk-bottle.


3. When the food is served and the third, fourth and fifth graders are seated, a buzzer is rung by a chosen representative and a red flag is waved.


4. Remaining students file into the room and silently take their seats.


5. Another student representative at the front of the room goes through the day’s menu on the board with a wooden pointer, briefly explaining the nutritional balance of the meal by indicating on a large diagram the food groups each menu item falls into.


6. Surgical masks are removed and placed in the apron’s front pocket.


7. The clock is consulted and the time by which meals must be eaten is set and announced - 20 minutes, to the minute, from time of announcement.


8. Everyone bows and says in unison “ittadakimasu”.


9. Meal is eaten.


10. Buzzer is sounded at set end time.


11. Everyone bows and says in unison “gochisosamadeshita”.


12. Representative asks each table for their report.


13. Each group’s representative stands in turn and announces the number of table members who failed to meet the weekly and monthly lunch-time objectives (this week was “Not stuffing one’s mouth with food” and this month was “Finishing the meal in the given time”).


14. Numbers of those who failed to meet the objectives are recorded on a large poster at the front of the room.


15. Tables with a perfect record for that day are applauded.


16. A card with a green circle is held up if numbers are within acceptable parameters, and card with a red cross if not.


17. Bowls, plates and utensils are stacked and returned, tables wiped, chairs stacked and floors swept.


18. Table members stand to the side of the table as a student inspector comes to each table in turn to check that clean-up has been completed satisfactorily.


19. If the table is given the ok, group members bow to each other and say in unison “owarimashou” (“let’s finish”).


20. Everyone exits room and returns their aprons and surgical masks to their respective rooms.


21. Students race outside and get stuck into the more serious business of some low-down and reckless playing.

A military commander would envy the efficiency on display here.

But let me not give the impression that the kids are just cold-hearted soulless robots. Despite the strangeness of their ritual lunches, and as cynical as I'd like to be, the truth is that I couldn't imagine a nicer and more thoughtful group of robots anywhere.

But seriously... they are great kids. I don't think there's a bad egg or bully among them. Whenever any of the kids see me around the village they always smile and shout out "Andoryu, Andoryu!" The bolder ones run up to give me a high five or a massage(!), or point out for the 10th time that day how tall I am, and try to jump up and touch the top of my head.



For all their insistence on procedure and uniformity, I have to admit it does seem to produce uniformly good-natured kids. This year for Xmas, it'll be white aprons, surgical masks and stopwatches all round...