School “lunch ladies” and gents are serving more than just food.
Weekdays in the Dobson house run on a tight schedule. Of the six-daughter brood, the oldest four participate in Keystone Oaks School District’s hybrid schooling model, the youngest two attend preschool, and their dad, Geoff, attempts to work from home. But a text he receives on Monday afternoons lightens that load.
Trista Boyes, Keystone Oaks’ assistant to the food service director, asks, “Do you wantyour weekly order?”
The district, like many across the country, distributes breakfasts and lunches through the USDA’s Free Meals for Kids program, which has been extended through the end of the 2020-21 school year to help meet children’s nutritional needs through the pandemic. Ms. Boyes, 50, is one of a legion of food service workers who make it their business to help feed America’s children though extraordinary times, and she does it with her own style.
She knows the unique pressures that face some of the district’s families. Stayat-home moms without vehicles during the day, families who are quarantining and large families, such as the Dobsons, bring out her “doesn’t say no” spirit, as her supervisor Kevin Lloyd describes it. She receives texts on her personal cellphone rather than through her district email address. She makes meals and drops them off on doorsteps. And she’ll fill last-minute bulk orders when busy families forget to give more notice.
Because of her innovative approach, families such as the Dobsons only have to pick up meals once during the bustling week. On Tuesdays at lunchtime, Mr. Dobson parks at the curb of Dormont Elementary School to pick up a full, carefully packedbox with his name on it. Buns, cheese and lunch meat are packed separately. Individually portioned salads, veggies and fruits are plate-ready. Cartons of milk and juice will carry them through the week.
She does it because she understands.
Ms. Boyes is a mom to four and stepmom to two. When the children were young she was a stay-athome mom, and at times, money was very tight. Her kids received free and reduced-price lunches. Her family was on the church’s benevolent food distribution list. Although these hardships were many years ago, they motivate her to take the extra five or 10 minutes to drop off meals. She says, “It makes me feel like I’m being useful in a positive way, not just living my own life, doing my own thing.”
Planning bulk orders for larger families is one way to help school districts keep an eye on inventory and prevent food waste. Debbie Dedo, a food service worker at McKeesport’s Twin Rivers Elementary, has another way.
When last school year’s free meals turned into summer free meals, Twin Rivers Elementary School needed help using up the food in its freezers. Officials picked Ms. Dedo, 60, for the job.
Growing up in North Versailles, Ms. Dedo’s Slovak family cooked “poor people’s food,” which was like a decadeslong episode of “Chopped.” They wasted nothing, and everything was from scratch, even when her mother cooked for a crowd. “Don’t embarrass yourself by not having enough,” she’d say. Ms. Dedo is also a 35-year veteran of the food service industry, where she held a second job until it fell victim to pandemic restrictions.
Twin Rivers’ waste-notwant-not summertime menu drew rave reviews from kids with dishes such as pork chops and buttered noodles and from-scratch macaroni and cheese. Some urged Ms. Dedo to go easier on herself, to just make burgers or deli sandwiches, but she refused. “I want to make something I have to make in the kettle, that is going to be hot, and they’re going to love it.”
About twice the number of McKeesport residents live below the poverty line as in the rest of Allegheny County. Ms. Dedo knows her home-cooked creations might be the only hot meal some of those kids receive in a day, which is a big motivator for her.
But there was a time when she was willing to waste food.
Her boyfriend of seven years received a cancer diagnosis in June 2020. Although his appetite was waning, he craved her famous meatloaf. She’d make it, knowing he could only manage a slice. With her busy schedule and his inconsistent appetite, a lot of it went uneaten, but she didn’t mind. When he was hospitalized, she kept a schedule the McKeesport kids could never guess by the smile she kept on her face. After working at the school until 2:30 p.m., she went to her restaurant job from 5 p.m. until 1 a.m. She drove straight to the hospital for the night, changed her clothes and drove back to the school for 7 a.m.
She hasn’t missed a day of work through the pandemic except for bereavement time in early January when her boyfriend died. Without caregiving duties or a second job, she looks forward to spending more time at the school, where her homemade meals have become regular features. Her supervisor, Allyson Cifone, calls her “one of the strongest people” she’s ever met and feels lucky to have her on their team.
Teamwork is essential to school food distributions, especially in its pandemic form. Few know that better than a motley crew of Brentwood High School and Middle School employees.
On March 13, 2020, school administrators across the state learned their schools would close starting the next week. They scrambled to figure out not only first-world luxuries like laptops for remote learning, but basic needs, such as food, especially for families in need. In Brentwood that need was addressed, in part, with a food distribution on Friday, March 20, meant to feed kids through the weekend.
Based on response to an email, the district’s food service director, Nicole Wilding, expected to distribute about 100 meal bags, each containing three days’ worth of breakfast and lunch. When half of those had been given out in the first 15 minutes of a twohour distribution and a line of cars was pouring out into the street, every employee in the building — and there weren’t many — leaped into action, with the food service workers running the show.
Six cafeteria workers, four custodians and the district’s superintendent, Amy Burch, warmed corn dogs and chicken nuggets and slapped together deli sandwiches, piling them high on rolling sheet pan racks. Two cafeteria porters ran the racks out to the building’s front circle, where high school principal Jason Olexa and middle school principal Dave Radcliffe provided curbside service to the district’s waiting families. By day’s end, the group made 141 additional meal bags. Make that 147.
When no cars remained, one specific family came to Mr. Radcliffe’s mind. The family’s six children are raised by a mother who is legally blind, and their father had died. They would have benefited greatly from the meals, although none of them could drive to pick them up. So Mr. Radcliffe and Mr. Olexa made the meals and dropped them off.
That day has become the definition of Brentwood School District to Mr. Radcliffe. “It didn’t matter who was doing what; what mattered was the families and getting them what they needed,” he said.
Need isn’t the only criteria for the Free Meals for Kids program. Any child in participating districts is eligible, and there are districtwide benefits: Schools receive funding for each meal distributed. That money keeps needy families fed and pays the wages of cafeteria employees whose work is far more nuanced than satisfying hunger pangs.
For parents such as Mr. Dobson, Ms. Boyes and “lunch ladies” like her provide more than food — they provide support. “Trista looked at the situation and figured out how to make it even easier for us,” he said. “She went way above and beyond to help us out.”