Photo: flickr/Colodio

Anastacia Marx de Salcedo
Guest Contributor, Slow Food Boston

The other day my teenage daughter bopped in from her annual checkup with some startling nutritional advice:

“The doctor says I need to snack between meals, drink frappes instead of plain milk, and go ahead and have that second dessert!”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s worried. My BMI is only 16.6.”

Hold on a sec. Had Dr. X reviewed her growth history, she would have seen that A’s BMI has actually increased since her height stabilized a couple years ago. And had Dr. X evaluated her general appearance (doctorspeak for looked at her), she would have noticed that she is a classic ectomorph—fine-boned, long-muscled and rangy (paternal genes at work; I’m built like Dick Butkus). But even if A were malnourished or anorexic, telling her to gorge on sugar, saturated fats and edible food-like substances to nudge up her BMI is untenable. It condones bad eating habits and overlooks the fact that people come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes. (Besides, um, preaching to the converted? We’re talking about a kid whose favorite hearty breakfast is a half-gallon of chocolate ice cream and who thoughtfully leaves a trail of candy wrappers behind her for geolocation purposes.)

Of course, those who are considered underweight on the BMI scale are but a tiny minority. Most Americans are just the opposite. For this reason, last year Massachusetts proudly began implementing a new anti-obesity measure: fat-shaming schoolchildren. Complying with a new regulation, all 1st, 4th, 7th and 10th graders are weighed and measured by the school nurse. (In the inaugural study, conducted in 2009, roughly a third of students fell into the hefty category.) Parents then receive a letter that identifies their child as underweight, healthy weight, overweight or obese, and, if warranted, exhorts corrective action. Really rotund youngsters can look forward to an additional humiliation: “[F]or screening results that are significantly out of range or of particular concern, it may be appropriate for the school nurse to personalize the letter or place a phone call to the student’s parents or guardians.”

This is exactly the wrong way to address junior’s quivering midsection and closet full of plus-sized cargo pants. BMI is a screening tool, designed to detect pathology. So anyone who falls into the abnormal categories, whether she be a Skinny Minnie (like my daughter) or a Fatty Patty, is encouraged to return to “normalcy,” whether that be through the empty-calorie overload recommended by my pediatrician or that ineffective, self-flagellation known as dieting. Those who fall into the middle “healthy weight” range are simply ignored. The end result: No one addresses the underlying behaviors, common across the entire BMI spectrum: lack of exercise, too much screen time and excess calories, especially the less nutritional ones in fast and processed foods.

The solution to the childhood obesity epidemic isn’t fat report cards, it’s kids in the kitchen. Viva home ec! (Also: recess! But I digress; this is a food blog.) Since the mid-1800s, with the founding of the land grant colleges (now the agricultural and technology schools), young women learned to apply that new-fangled thing called science to household management. Some of them sallied forth into the world to spread the word, creating one of the earliest female career paths. In the 20th century, as other occupations became available to the ladies, study of the domestic arts languished. (Although as late as the 70s, no school was complete without its home ec teacher, hopped up on Tab, muttering meatloaf recipes and waving a fistful of pink pamphlets on the big M. Hi, Miss Cunningham!) In the 21st, an updated home ec class could include visits from local farmers, discussions of the food system and shopping trips to supermarkets (cruise the walls, kids!), as well as plenty of food prep—and eating. Because what’s more persuasive than a delicious, homecooked meal?

Cliff Note Version: How to Raise Healthy Kids
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