There’s no such thing as a free lunch—especially for kids

Canada’s national school food program has been widely applauded—and rightly so. Feeding children who arrive at school hungry improves concentration, attendance, and short-term learning outcomes. The evidence is clear and uncontested. But as the program moves from announcement to long-term policy, an important question deserves far more attention: are we feeding children—or are we teaching them about food?

Near the end of 2025, the federal government announced that the National School Food Program will be made permanent, with ongoing annual funding planned to begin in the 2029–30 fiscal year. Between now and then, the program is being rolled out gradually through bilateral agreements with provinces, territories, and Indigenous partners. Implementation will unfold over several school years as delivery capacity expands.

This phased approach reflects jurisdictional and infrastructure realities. It also underscores a fundamental point: the program is designed as a supplement, not a universal system.

Ottawa has said the program will reach “up to 400,000 children.” That figure was not derived from a national assessment of need. It is a funding-based estimate—what the allocated budget can reasonably support once costs are spread across regions, providers, and school boards. In economic terms, the number reflects fiscal capacity, not entitlement. Most of Canada’s roughly five million K–12 students will not be covered.

What food will children receive? In most cases, simple, nutritious offerings: fruit, dairy, whole grains, eggs, soups, or basic lunches. This is not cafeteria dining, and it is certainly not fast food. Typically, children will receive one snack or one light meal per school day, designed to reduce hunger and improve classroom readiness at a manageable cost.

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Cultural and religious dietary needs, including halal and kosher considerations, are accommodated pragmatically—most often through vegetarian, fish-based, or certified packaged foods rather than fully certified kitchens. This reflects logistical and cost realities, not neglect. Inclusivity is achieved through simplicity.

From a public-health perspective, this makes sense. From a food-systems and economic perspective, the picture is more complicated.

The scientific literature is clear on one point: feeding children for free does not, by itself, create dependency in the classic economic sense. There is no credible evidence that school meal programs produce adults who are less capable or permanently reliant on public support. However, there is equally strong evidence that passive food provision does little to build food literacy, agency, or engagement with the food system. When food simply appears—disconnected from farming, labour, transportation, costs, or trade-offs—children learn to consume, not to understand.

This knowledge gap has consequences well beyond the lunchroom.

A population with limited understanding of how food systems work becomes more susceptible to simplistic political narratives. When food prices rise, the instinct is to blame the most visible actors—grocery stores—rather than the less visible drivers such as input costs, labour shortages, transportation, energy, regulation, or global shocks. The result is a recurring political temptation to propose public grocery chains, price controls, or heavy-handed regulation, often justified by claims of widespread profiteering.

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These ideas are not evidence-based. Food retail operates on thin margins, and price signals matter. Yet such proposals gain traction precisely because food-system literacy is weak, not only among voters but increasingly among political leaders themselves.

This is where school food policy intersects directly with economic policy.

Countries with the strongest outcomes do not treat school food as a welfare measure alone. In places such as Finland and Japan, meals are embedded in education. Students learn where food comes from, how it is produced, what it costs, and why waste matters. Food becomes part of economics, civics, sustainability, and culture.

Programs that focus narrowly on calorie delivery improve short-term nutrition but risk reinforcing food passivity—the belief that food should always be cheap, abundant, and politically controllable, rather than produced within real economic and environmental constraints.

This is the missed opportunity.

Canada’s agri-food sector faces mounting challenges: labour shortages, climate volatility, rising input costs, and trade uncertainty. A school food program that feeds without educating addresses today’s hunger but does little to prepare tomorrow’s citizens—or policymakers—to make informed decisions about food affordability, competitiveness, and food security.

The solution is not to scale back feeding programs. It is to complete them.

School food should be explicitly linked to food education: gardens, farm visits, menu planning, and classroom discussions about seasonality, supply chains, costs, and waste. Children should understand that food is not free—it is provided, and provision carries economic consequences.

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Feeding children is necessary. Teaching them about food is essential.

If Canada wants a permanent school food program that strengthens not only children, but also the quality of public debate about food prices and policy, it must do both.