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Shokuiku: Rethinking Food Education Through Japan’s School Lunch System

  • 2 days ago
  • 7 min read

Lost in Translation: Life of a Japanese Girl in Italy


Introduction: The Concept of Shokuiku “Japan has Shokuiku, right!?” One day, a classmate from Taiwan said this to me, and I was surprised. I hadn't realised that the Japanese term Shokuiku (food education) was gaining international attention and becoming a shared concept across cultures.

Japan’s Shokuiku Basic Act was enacted in 2005. I grew up with this law, yet I never fully understood its meaning. I live in Italy now. I recently revisited the Japanese school lunch system for a group project. My classmates come from diverse cultural backgrounds. I realised something important. This system is the ultimate form of ‘learning through the body’. 1. The ‘Hardware’ of On-Site Cooking × the ‘Software’ of Human Warmth One of the most distinctive strengths of Japan’s school lunch system is its on-site cooking model. Many schools have their own kitchens. During class, aromas and sounds drift through the hallways. These stimulate the students’ senses and naturally spark their curiosity about food. In addition, Japan has a system of nutrition teachers: eiyō kyōyu. These are licensed educators: true ‘teachers of food’. They are not like dietitians who simply calculate calories from an office. Placement varies depending on region and circumstances, so not every school has one. These teachers do more than lead classes on nutrition. They visit classrooms during lunchtime. They use school broadcasts to explain the day’s ingredients and nutritional value. In this way, they play a central role in Shokuiku.

Nutrition teachers and kitchen staff act as a bridge between the kitchen and the classroom. Through them, the school lunch is elevated. It’ s no longer a simple meal. It becomes an experiential form of learning—what could be called ‘living knowledge’. Japanese school lunches are carefully designed. They provide about one-third of a child’s daily nutritional needs. Most follow the traditional ichiju-sansai (one soup, three dishes) structure. Menus are meticulously planned to avoid repetition.

Listening to my international classmates, I was surprised. In many countries, school lunches often consist of frozen chicken nuggets, fried rice, or French fries. In the United States, for example, the Obama administration introduced stricter nutritional standards to improve these conditions. However, by prioritising nutritional ‘numbers’, a gap emerged between the meals and children’s preferences. Ironically, this led to large amounts of food waste. One key reason Japanese school lunches stand out is the presence of visible human relationships. Nutrition teachers explain the ingredients. Students express their appreciation directly to the cooks, saying: “It was delicious.” These everyday interactions fill a gap that numbers alone cannot address. It is the feeling that ‘someone made this meal just for me’. Finally, the monthly menu sheet (kondatehyo) acts as a shared language between school and home. It includes details such as ingredients, origins, calories, and nutritional content. Children look forward to their favourite meals from the moment they receive it. Parents use it as a reference when planning dinners. In this way, school lunch in Japan is not just a system for nutritional intake. It is a hub that encourages warm communication and connection. 2. Redefining Taste: Liberation from Marketing and the Power of ‘Eating Together’ Everyone eats the same meal in the same classroom. In this setting, there is no such thing as ‘lunch shaming’ based on economic background. Children share the same food. They experience the umami of dashi or the subtle bitterness of seasonal ingredients over time. Through this, they gradually develop a common palate. This shared foundation can become a lifelong defence against unhealthy eating habits, such as over-reliance on ultra-processed foods. At the same time, students learn to appreciate the changing seasons. They practice table manners through interactions with peers and teachers. They build shared memories. Adults still bond over conversations like: “What was your favourite school lunch?” This speaks to how school meals function as a social infrastructure that nurtures children collectively. Personally, I loved jumbo dumplings and wakame rice. On the other hand, children’s palates today are significantly influenced by ‘kids’ menus’. These are shaped by the marketing strategies of large food corporations. Items like fried chicken, French fries, and sugary snacks are highly appealing. Under the principle of individual choice, they are often preferred. As a result, dietary habits tend to become skewed toward certain flavours and foods. Moreover, these options are often more convenient for parents. This further reinforces the trend.

Eating habits are becoming increasingly individualised. In this context, shared meals like school lunch take on added importance.

Experiencing a nutritionally balanced meal together broadens otherwise limited food choices. It also repositions eating as a social activity. This offers a pathway toward healthier and more sustainable dietary practices. 3. Cultivating Citizenship Through “Lunch Duty” In Japan, once classes end, students immediately wash their hands and rearrange desks. They serve the meals themselves. After eating, they also take responsibility for cleaning up. Many other countries use cafeteria-style systems where staff serve and clear meals. In contrast, Japanese school lunches require active participation.

Students on lunch duty all wear these white coats (hakui).
Students on lunch duty all wear these white coats (hakui).
This is me in elementary school, standing in line for school lunch.
This is me in elementary school, standing in line for school lunch.
Through these daily routines, children learn to fulfil their roles. They take responsibility for shared spaces. Over six years, these small practices build a sense of citizenship. This is the foundation of a functioning democracy.

At the same time, eating in fixed groups helps students become aware of others. They learn their classmates’ food preferences and appropriate portion sizes. Through role-sharing, they develop a sense of fairness in food distribution. They even learn negotiation skills. Looking back, even simple moments were earnest forms of communication. Deciding who would drink the leftover milk was often settled by a quick round of rock-paper-scissors. These moments reflect how children transform eating into a shared, enjoyable event. Their collective engagement strengthens social bonds. It also contributes to reducing food waste. In this way, everyday lunch becomes a meaningful exercise in community and responsibility. 4. The Philosophy Embedded in “Itadakimasu” Before every meal, we place our hands together and say “Itadakimasu.” This is not simply a signal to begin eating. It is a phrase imbued with gratitude for the lives that became our food. It also shows respect for all those involved in producing and preparing it. When I was in elementary school, students were sometimes told they could not go outside to play until they had finished their meals. Today, this approach has shifted. It now focuses on respecting each individual’s appropriate portion size. Even so, the spirit of not wasting a single grain of rice remains deeply valued. So too does the uniquely Japanese practice of “kōnai chōmi”—“seasoning within the mouth.” This is embodied in the habit of sankaku-tabe (alternating bites of rice, side dishes, and soup to create a balanced flavour). I still remember growing rice over the course of a year. We had a small paddy field within my elementary school in central Tokyo. I remember making rice balls from that harvest. I also remember laughing so hard with my groupmates during lunch that I spilled my food—and getting scolded by the teacher.

The knowledge we gain from textbooks may fade over time. However, the values we absorb during school lunches remain within us. Consideration for others, a sense of order, and gratitude shape who we are long after the meal is over.

5. Learning from School Lunches Around the World I learned a great deal from friends across the globe. In Brazil, for example, it is mandated that 30% of the school lunch budget be sourced from local farmers. In Taiwan, initiatives like ‘Meat-free Monday’ are actively implemented. They also use QR codes to enhance transparency around food sourcing. These examples introduce new perspectives to Japanese Shokuiku. They are particularly relevant to sustainability and circular food systems. In Japan, starting in 2026, school lunches at public elementary schools have become essentially free of charge. Any costs exceeding the standard amount are still borne by parents. Previously, families were responsible for these fees. This shift has helped reduce financial burdens. However, the change has also revealed disparities. In municipalities with stronger financial resources, meal quality has improved. In contrast, less affluent areas have struggled with rising food costs. This leads to concerns about reduced menu variety and declining ingredient quality. Ideally, Shokuiku should be an equal opportunity provided to all children. Yet, there is a growing risk that access to high-quality food education may vary depending on where a child lives. It is disheartening to think that the rich food education I experienced might not be equally available to future generations. 6. From Consumers to Stakeholders: Learning from France’s ‘Self-Sufficiency’ Model When thinking about Shokuiku, initiatives in France offer valuable insights. In particular, the city of Mouans-Sartoux has taken a pioneering approach: the municipality secures farmland, employs farmers as public workers, and operates dedicated farms to supply ingredients for school meals. While Japanese schools often have rice paddies or gardens, these are typically limited to experiential learning. But what if they were reimagined as actual production hubs that support daily school lunches? Instead of valuing food simply because “the teacher will scold us if we waste it,” students may begin to care more deeply because they grew it themselves. This sense of ownership can naturally lead to a reduction in food waste. Moreover, such a self-sufficient model presents a potential solution to some of the challenges Japan currently faces, including budget constraints and regional disparities. By reducing reliance on external procurement, schools could move toward a more sustainable and stable system of meal provision. In this shift—from passive consumers to active participants—Shokuiku evolves into something more than education. It becomes a lived system in which children engage directly with the cycles of production, consumption, and responsibility. Conclusion: Toward Shokuiku The gratitude embedded in the phrase “Itadakimasu” should not remain a mere formality. It should evolve into an ultimate form of literacy: food literacy. Through this, we understand how what we eat returns to the earth. We see how it contributes to our communities. We can reimagine the role of schools. We do this by integrating global practices of self-sufficiency, circularity, and transparency with Japan’s strength in systematised sharing. Schools can become the largest restaurants in their communities. They can be farms connected to the world. They can be classrooms that shape the future. We must nurture individuals who can imagine the vast world behind every meal. We must raise true citizens of food. That is the vision of Shokuiku I aspire to see. Follow our journey @movimento.metropolitano. References

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