Things I Will Miss When My School Canteen Becomes an Army Operation
I hear it’s for efficiency.
No more long queues.
No more waiting.
No more chaos.
Which is funny, because chaos is how I learned most of my life skills.
Here’s what I’ll miss.
1. The cai png auntie’s silent judgment
She never says anything.
She just looks at your plate.
One vegetable, two meat, extra gravy.
That look says, “You chose this.”
No lecture. Just consequences.
2. Negotiating for extra rice like a broke diplomat
“Auntie, can give a bit more rice?”
Pause.
Sigh.
Tiny scoop added.
This is my first lesson in negotiation, rejection, and knowing when to push your luck.
3. Choosing badly and suffering the consequences
Trying a new stall.
Regretting it instantly.
Eating anyway because you paid for it.
That’s risk management.
4. Queue politics
The fake innocent cutter.
The friend “just asking something.”
The unspoken alliance of people who noticed.
This is real-world governance.
5. The uncle who remembers your order but not your name
He doesn’t know who you are.
But he knows you always want less chili.
That feels… oddly comforting.
6. The mystery of why that one stall is always closed
Every school has it.
No sign.
No explanation.
Just absence.
It teaches acceptance.
7. Spending ten minutes deciding, then panicking
Too many choices.
Bell ringing.
Regret incoming.
Welcome to adulthood.
8. Watching the popular kids queue for the same stall every day
Even freedom has patterns.
I learned that early.
9. The smell
Rice, soup, fried something.
Mixed together.
It smells like being young and tired and hungry at the same time.
10. The feeling that lunch is mine
I chose it.
I queued for it.
I paid for it.
I own this regret.
Now we get food delivered.
Efficient.
Fast.
Uniform.
No auntie.
No uncle.
No choice.
No mistakes.
Just trays.
Maybe this is what worries me.
Not that the food is worse.
But that we are being trained early to accept whatever arrives.
No asking.
No choosing.
No small negotiations.
Just consume and move on.
If school is supposed to prepare us for the future,
this feels less like preparation
and more like rehearsal.
For a life where someone else always decides
what we get
and tells us
it’s better this way.
And we’re expected to say thank you
because it’s faster.
