Don’t throw away food at school.
I work at a small Canadian school. A boy from a Pakistani family throws his sandwich, wrapped in foil, into a garbage can.
Did you make a sandwich? Why are you throwing him out?
and yes. I just don’t want, I don’t like.
Don’t throw away food in our school.
I open up in the teacher's room my clothes with a simple lunch - there is no time to prepare in the morning for myself, to have time to leave lunch for the household. I remembered how my grandmother, a radio engineer and inventor, told me how much she wanted to eat in the evacuation in Barnaul, how she saw a piece of bread on the ground and stood over it in the thought of whether to pick up or not. Like his grandfather, he was also an engineer, making plastic jars, which he sold or exchanged on the local market for food. And as my grandmother and my little mother waited for him to return from a business trip, and when she saw him, the grandmother fell on the stairs into hungry fainting.
Now it is fashionable in schools to talk about the shortage of fresh water and the high density of starving populations in Africa and on various other continents. They urge to save water at home and eat less meat. But for some reason, food is thrown away by everyone – children of any skin color and speaking in a variety of languages at home.
Here a child from a Russian family, barely biting a large apple, throws it into a basket, and so almost every day.
“Hello, Vania doesn’t eat the apples you give him with you.
Don’t eat if you don’t want to. They are probably acidic.
Okay, then let’s not, please leave them at home.
And I don’t even remember how I went to the line at 4 a.m. in the early 1990s to buy a cup of kilograms of sugar, or how we cooked powdered potato blenders from packets for a ruble, and with onions for one and a half. And I don’t even think of the fact that I still don’t allow myself to first open a new chocolate tile or take the last piece of anything there from the common dish, although no one is miserable or hungry. But my mother told me that after the war, when she was 6-7 years old, she was often in line for bread and other necessary foods to get them on the cards while her parents were at work. Her hands were printed with numbers that were well preserved if written with a chemical pencil – so she knew her number in every row in which she stood. One day she had all the cards with her for the next month, and something terrible happened – either she stole them, or they were stolen, but she returned home without the cards. Her parents did not mock her, silently looked at each other, and there was a fear in her eyes - how to live the next month? But the extraordinary thing happened – the next day the card system was canceled!
Don’t throw away food at school.

Elena (aka Strange Girl)