Some years ago, in issue 14 of Insieme, we explored "the activities of daily life"—specifically, how children learn to dress themselves. Today we turn to something even more fundamental: mealtimes. Not only do they happen at least three times a day, but they matter far more than that. They shape us emotionally, educationally, and socially.
What follows draws heavily on the thinking of an educator named Jany Boever, whose reflections appear in the article "Réflections après un stage d'éducateurs consacré à la vie quotidienne de l'enfant handicapé mental" (SESAME, no. 44, June 1977). She brings to this work both long experience and deep joy.
These thoughts also come from a mother who wrote to that same journal: "Twenty years ago, I desperately tried to do something for my daughter. I hunted down educational games by the dozen and squeezed time into my schedule for puzzles and building blocks. Now I see what I gave up: precious moments. I rushed toward what seemed most educational—the formal 'therapy sessions'—and I went through my daily duties as a mother like a chore, never grasping their worth." Those ordinary actions were, in fact, "an inexhaustible mine of possibilities for your child's growth."
But grow toward what? Why teach these skills at all?
We want to encourage the child toward greater independence—keeping in mind we're thinking of younger children and those with more significant disabilities.
We know that independence—doing things for oneself, "on my own"—brings every child deep satisfaction. Eating alone, first with the hands, then with a spoon; lifting a cup to drink when thirsty (and children are always thirsty!); meeting your own needs; finding pleasure in it; experiencing it as a real victory—these are profound sources of joy.
Learning to eat independently can run into many obstacles—physical, psychological, and others.
Often it must be taught in small, progressive steps, much as we do with dressing.
Eating with a spoon, for instance, is surprisingly complex. It breaks down into smaller tasks:
- grasping the spoon
- using the spoon to pick up food
- bringing the spoon to the mouth
- chewing and swallowing
As with dressing, when a child faces real difficulty, we recommend starting with the last step in the chain of movements.
Think of it as a film in reverse:
We help with steps 4, 3, and 2—and we work toward step 1.
Once step 1 is mastered and done alone, we add step 2, and so on.
Sometimes, the right tools matter too: a cup with handles instead of a glass; a padded spoon handle. Small changes can make a big difference.
We pursue independence this way. Yet we never lose sight of the emotional bonds that form at meals. A baby connects to the mother who feeds him; his deepest attachments root in that nourishment and care.
We won't dwell on this now—that belongs to the psychologist. Instead, let's consider the social side of eating, which touches all of us: parents, teachers, friends.
Whether rich or poor, young or old, eating is something we do together. It is meant to be pleasant, shared. This is true at home or at school, in daily life or at a celebration.
Yet this pleasure and joy don't arise automatically just because people gather around the same table in the same room.
- respect for others
- a relaxed mood, openness, joy from each person
- the quality of the space and the way food is presented
These seem essential to us.
Respect for others at meals shows itself in several ways.
First, respect for your neighbor—what we sometimes call "good manners," though I see it as something far deeper: a core part of learning to live with others. The more we eat politely at table (all of us), the more welcome we become. Every parent knows how long this learning takes:
- holding the spoon correctly
- eating without drooling
- not scattering food everywhere
- washing hands
- using a napkin
- sitting properly
- not making noise
- speaking quietly, not with a full mouth—and so on.
We must help children want to be pleasant and attractive to those around them.
But there is also respect for the person who prepared the meal.
- We finish what has been served (on principle, it is food meant to be eaten)
- We remember to thank whoever made it.
We adapt to group life—family or otherwise—while still honoring particular needs and rhythms: recognizing that some children eat slowly; giving them time to finish; learning to wait for others; not jumping up whenever we feel like it.
We also do our best to respect individual preferences: whenever possible, let each child choose where to sit rather than assigning rigid, permanent places. All of this helps create the ease and joy that should mark a shared meal.
Certainly, some of our children may struggle to find pleasure in eating with a group because of their particular difficulties. At first, we must respect that need for solitude—some children cannot yet bear dining in company. But we should move toward shared meals and foster an environment for them through our own openness and calm.
To that end, the quality of the space itself matters greatly:
- the dining room
- attractive, appealing materials
- food presented with care
We all know how much environment and presentation matter. We see it when we set a family feast with flowers, tablecloths, and beautiful dishes. Let us end with the words of that mother quoted at the start:
May we all discover the treasures hidden in the ordinary moments of our daily lives.
Nicole Schulthes, 1978