ℕ𝕖𝕨 β„€π•–π•’π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• 𝕧𝕠π•₯𝕖𝕣𝕀 π•Ÿπ• π•₯ π•”π• π•Ÿπ•§π•šπ•Ÿπ•”π•–π•• 𝕠𝕗 π•˜π• π•§π•–π•£π•Ÿπ•žπ•–π•Ÿπ•₯ π•π•¦π•Ÿπ•”π•™π•–π•€ π•šπ•Ÿ 𝕀𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝𝕀 π•‘π•£π• π•˜π•£π•’π•žπ•žπ•–

ℕ𝕖𝕨 β„€π•–π•’π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• 𝕧𝕠π•₯𝕖𝕣𝕀 π•Ÿπ• π•₯ π•”π• π•Ÿπ•§π•šπ•Ÿπ•”π•–π•• 𝕠𝕗 π•˜π• π•§π•–π•£π•Ÿπ•žπ•–π•Ÿπ•₯ π•π•¦π•Ÿπ•”π•™π•–π•€ π•šπ•Ÿ 𝕀𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝𝕀 π•‘π•£π• π•˜π•£π•’π•žπ•žπ•–

ℕ𝕖𝕨 β„€π•–π•’π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• 𝕧𝕠π•₯𝕖𝕣𝕀 𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•Ÿπ• π•₯ π•”π• π•Ÿπ•§π•šπ•Ÿπ•”π•–π•• π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•˜π• π•§π•–π•£π•Ÿπ•žπ•–π•Ÿπ•₯ π•šπ•€ π• π•Ÿ π•₯π•£π•’π•”π•œ π•¨π•šπ•₯𝕙 π•₯π•™π•–π•šπ•£ π•—π•’π•šπ•π•–π•• π•π•¦π•Ÿπ•”π•™π•–π•€ π•šπ•Ÿ 𝕀𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝𝕀 π•‘π•£π• π•˜π•£π•’π•žπ•žπ•–

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s of March 12, 2025, New Zealand’s government-funded school lunches programme, revamped under the coalition government led by the National Party alongside ACT and New Zealand First, has stirred significant debate and skepticism among voters. 

Initially launched in 2019 as Ka Ora, Ka Ako by the Labour government, the program aimed to address food insecurity and improve educational outcomes for students in low-income communities. 

However, the current government, with Associate Education Minister David Seymour at the helm, introduced a revised model in Term 1 of 2025, slashing costs and shifting to a more centralised, commercially driven approach. 

This overhaul has met with widespread criticism, with many voters expressing doubt about its effectiveness, nutritional quality, and overall value. 

Drawing on recent sentiment, educational data, and public reactions, it’s clear that New Zealanders are far from convinced that the new programme delivers on its promises.

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Additional Reading:
𝕋𝕙𝕖 β„™π•£π•šπ•žπ•– π•„π•šπ•Ÿπ•šπ•€π•₯𝕖𝕣𝕀 π•π• π•Ÿπ•˜, 𝕀𝕝𝕠𝕨 π•¨π•’π•π•œ π•₯𝕠 π• π•“π•π•šπ•§π•šπ• π•Ÿ
ℙ𝕠𝕝𝕝: 𝕃𝕖𝕗π•₯ 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕔 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 π•—π• π•£π•ž π•˜π• π•§π•₯ 𝕒𝕀 ℕ𝕒π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿπ•’π• π•€π•π•šπ••π•–π•€

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The original Ka Ora, Ka Ako programme was designed to provide free, nutritious lunches to students in schools with the greatest socio-economic challenges, targeting around 25% of the country’s student populationβ€”approximately 230,000 children across over 1,000 schools. 

Funded at a cost of up to $8 per meal, it offered a variety of options, from hot meals like butter chicken to healthier choices like quinoa and hummus, prepared either on-site or by local suppliers. 

Studies and anecdotal evidence suggested it had tangible benefits: improved attendance, better concentration, and a reduction in food poverty, particularly for Māori and Pasifika students. 

However, critics, including Seymour and the ACT Party, labeled it wasteful and overly expensive, pointing to surplus mealsβ€”around 12% or 10,000 dailyβ€”and questioning its measurable impact on attendance and academic performance. 

In response, the coalition government rolled out an β€œalternate provision model” in 2025, slashing the per-meal budget to $3 and centralising production under the School Lunch Collective, a consortium led by multinational Compass Group, alongside Foodstuffs North Island and Libelle. 

The new menu pivoted away from what Seymour called β€œwoke” foods like sushi and hummus, favoring simpler, cheaper options such as sandwiches, wraps, and fruit. 

The government touted annual savings of $130 million, achieved through bulk purchasing and supply chain efficiencies, while promising to maintain nutritional standards. 

For younger students (Years 0-8), meals weigh 240 grams, while older students (Years 9-13) receive at least 300 grams, supplemented with items like yogurt or muesli bars. 

The transition began with secondary, intermediate, and composite schools in 2025, with contributing primary schools set to follow in 2026. Yet, the rollout has been rocky. 

Reports from early 2025 paint a grim picture: meals arriving late, undercooked, overcooked, or inedible, with descriptions ranging from β€œdog food” to β€œprison slop.” 

Photos circulating online show charred meatballs, soggy macaroni, and unidentifiable pasta concoctions, sparking outrage among parents, teachers, and students. 

Principals like Hayley Read of Whangārei Intermediate School have resorted to ordering takeawaysβ€”like 200 pizzasβ€”to feed students when deliveries failed. 

Others, such as Auckland Primary Principals’ Association president Kyle Brewerton, noted children refusing to eat what they likened to pet food. 

Additional complaints include mislabeled meals (e.g., halal options containing ham) and melted plastic packaging, prompting an investigation by the Ministry for Primary Industries. 

These logistical and quality issues have fueled a perception that the cost-cutting measures sacrificed student well-being for fiscal savings. 

Public sentiment, as reflected in recent polls and online discussions, underscores this discontent. 

A survey indicated that 65% of voters believe the new program isn’t working, with 60% favouring a return to Ka Ora, Ka Ako. 

Another poll showed 31% strongly agreeing and 29% agreeing that the previous model should be reinstated, with only 21% opposed. 

This suggests a clear majority of New Zealanders are unconvinced by the government’s approach. 

Critics argue that the $3 price point compromises nutritionβ€”experts question how a balanced meal can be produced so cheaply without cutting cornersβ€”while the shift to a corporate monopoly excludes community providers who once tailored meals to local needs. 

Health Coalition Aotearoa, for instance, warned that the new model risks replacing nutritious lunches with processed snacks, undermining long-term health outcomes. 

The government defends its stance by emphasizing fiscal responsibility amid a $17 billion deficit. 

Seymour has dismissed critics as cherry-picking β€œthe worst examples,” urging a β€œreality check” and arguing that the programme still feeds every eligible student at a fraction of the previous cost.  

The coalition also highlights a new initiative: using savings to fund meals for 10,000 preschoolers in low-equity early learning centres, framing it as an innovative expansion of support. 

However, these arguments haven’t quelled voter skepticism. Principals and Teachers, like Leanne Otene of the New Zealand Principals’ Association, call the programme a β€œnational embarrassment,” arguing it distracts from teaching and learning. 

They advocate stripping the School Lunch Collective of its $85 million contract and empowering schools to manage their own lunches, as some did successfully under the old model. 

Parents, meanwhile, express frustration over the lack of choiceβ€”students can’t opt out for homemade lunches without losing access entirelyβ€”and the social stigma of subpar meals. 

Stories of kids going hungry or binning uneaten food highlight a disconnect between government promises and lived reality.

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Additional Reading:

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Comparisons to international models, like Finland’s long-standing programme (costing $7-$9 per meal) or South Korea’s universal free lunches, suggest New Zealand could aim higher. 

These countries view school meals as investments in education and health, not just cost-saving exercises. 

In contrast, the coalition’s approach aligns more with austerity-driven policies, prioritising taxpayer savings over student outcomesβ€”a stance that resonates with its voter base but alienates others.  

The programme’s long-term fate remains uncertain, with a full redesign planned post-2026. 

For now, voters’ lack of confidence stems from tangible failuresβ€”poor quality, unreliable delivery, and perceived neglect of children’s needsβ€”compounded by a sense that ideological priorities trumped evidence. 

While Ka Ora, Ka Ako wasn’t perfect, its community-driven ethos and higher funding resonated more with New Zealanders’ values of equity and care. 

As the coalition presses forward, it faces a tough task: convincing a skeptical public that $3 meals can nourish both bodies and minds, or risk further eroding trust in its governance. 

With two-thirds of voters doubting the programme and many yearning for the past, the government’s lunch experiment looks less like a triumph of efficiency and more like a lesson in unintended consequences.

π•­π–—π–šπ–ˆπ–Š π•¬π–‘π–•π–Žπ–“π–Š

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