Author: MIL-OSI Publisher

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Heather Ellis, Vice-Chancellor’s Fellow, School of Education, University of Sheffield

The UK government has launched its first review of school food standards in over a decade, alongside plans to extend free school meals to an additional 500,000 children in families receiving universal credit.

Much of the coverage has focused on specific menu changes, including the possible removal of sugary desserts such as steamed sponge. The focus on such changes might be reflective of how school food has never been only about nutrition for those who have experienced it. It is also about welfare, discipline, pleasure, stigma and care.

The School Meals Service: Past, Present – and Future? is a project I worked on that brings together archival research, oral histories and ethnographic work in schools across the UK. We were also the principal academic partner for the Food Museum’s ongoing School Dinners exhibition near Ipswich, which explores the changing history of school meals through objects, menus, memories and tastes – from semolina and sponge pudding to Turkey Twizzlers.

Since school meals were first introduced in legislation in 1906, they have changed repeatedly. Early provision was patchy and often associated with charity. After the 1944 Education Act, school meals became part of the postwar welfare settlement, intended to provide children with a nutritious meal during the school day.

For decades, the classic image of the school dinner was “meat and two veg”, followed by puddings such as sponge, semolina, rice pudding, jam roly-poly or custard.

From the 1980s, the provision of school meals became more fragmented. Nutritional standards were removed, local authorities had more freedom, and commercial catering reshaped menus. Later debates around Turkey Twizzlers and processed food, driven by people like celebrity chef Jamie Oliver, were part of this longer story. Today’s government review of school food standards is another chapter in that history.

What children remember

When people recall school dinners, they rarely talk about calories or guidelines. They remember texture, smell and noise.

Joanne, who attended school in Surrey and East Yorkshire from the late 1960s to 1980, described being served vegetables she could not eat: “Mush. Cold … you can’t have that unless you eat your beans … it put me off for life.”

The dining hall mattered as much as the food. Ella, who went to school in Rotherham from 1996 to 2010, remembered the anxiety of a space where “someone would puke and I would freak out … I can’t be in here”. Lauren, who attended schools in Northumbria and Merseyside from 1998 to 2012, recalled mashed potato that “you could pick up with a fork and it would just stick”.

Stigma, inequality and school food

School meals could also expose inequality. Free school meals have long been a vital safety net, but they have also carried stigma.

Joyce, who went to school in Glasgow in the 1960s, remembered the teacher calling children forward with the phrase “come out the frees”. She described it as “the walk of shame”.

Naomi, who attended school in Birmingham in the 1980s, showed how this could intersect with racism. Her mother paid for school meals despite financial strain because she worried Naomi might be singled out: “there weren’t many Black kids in my school”.

Yet school dinners were also remembered with affection. For many people, puddings such as sponge and custard were the best part of the day. For others they evoke control, compulsion or, like for Joyce and Naomi, embarrassment. That is why the removal of steamed sponge resonates. It is not just dessert. It is part of a shared national memory.

Beyond the menu

The Food Museum exhibition captures this complexity. Visitors encounter the familiar foods, but also the people behind them: pupils, parents, cooks, dinner staff, teachers and policymakers.

The exhibition, which has been shortlisted for a 2026 Museums and Heritage Award, draws directly on our research into how school meals changed over time and why those changes mattered socially, economically and culturally.

Today’s reforms emphasise healthier ingredients, more fruit and vegetables, fewer fried foods and less sugar. These aims matter. History and our research suggests what is served matters. So do the dining hall, the queue, the noise, the payment system, the stigma, the pleasure and the memories children carry into adulthood.

School dinners are one of the most widely shared experiences of British childhood. As they continue to evolve it is worth considering not just what is on the plate, but how it feels to eat it.

The School Dinners Exhibition is on at the Food Museum in Suffolk until February 21 2027

Heather Ellis received ESRC funding for The School Meals Service: Past, Present – and Future? project

– ref. School dinners are changing: the strong emotions and memories around these meals reflect their social, economic and cultural importance – https://theconversation.com/school-dinners-are-changing-the-strong-emotions-and-memories-around-these-meals-reflect-their-social-economic-and-cultural-importance-281917

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jon Rainford, Lecturer in Education, The Open University

Across the UK, working‑class boys are navigating an unprecedented convergence of pressures. There are entrenched gaps between working-class boys and their peers in their levels of attainment at every stage of education.

Often, however, the solutions for addressing this gap in attainment have roots in assumptions and stereotypes. These tend towards positioning working-class boys as somehow suffering from an innate deficiency: apathy, laziness or a lack of ambition for their future careers and employment. The evidence does not back these stereotypes up.

Our research has focused on understanding the experiences of these boys. In 2023, we carried out research that used creative activities to explore what being a young man meant for them. We found that some of the young men felt the need to create protective identities linked to aggression, emotional suppression and educational disinterest at school to avoid harm. For them, being a boy who expressed themselves was a risky enterprise. One boy said:

I feel like you know the bullying and torment would definitely go up quite a bit for, I guess, you know, something stupid like writing how I feel on a page.

We worked with young men who were open and able to engage in challenging and complex discussions, but who made it clear to us that doing this in their own educational environments would potentially lead to social, emotional and potentially even physical harm.

We saw young men with deep rooted aspirations they were often afraid to express. We did not see problematic boys in need of disciplining, but a need to understand and address the relational and structural conditions which shape their behaviour.

Lacking resources – and evidence

In almost every public debate about boys, whether it be attainment gaps, misogyny or youth violence, teachers are positioned as society’s key defence. The government’s recent violence against women and girls strategy, for instance, foregrounds the role of educators in shaping boys’ attitudes and preventing future harm.

But it assumes that schools possess the frameworks, training, and relational bandwidth to meet these challenges. Crucially, it also assumes that we truly understand the daily dynamics between teachers and working‑class boys.

The reality is that we don’t. The last major study of teacher perceptions was over 20 years ago. This decades-wide gap in evidence and understanding is a void which, our findings demonstrate, has been filled by stereotype and assumption. Rather than a focus on what boys need to achieve at school, there’s a risk that they are seen, both within schools and by the general public, as perpetrators of misogyny and violent behaviour in waiting – that they are an issue that needs to be targeted.

We’ve recently carried out a national survey of over 500 teachers, exploring their perceptions of boys and young men in the classroom. It was followed up with in-depth focus groups with 40 working-class boys aged from 12 to 16, as well as 17 teachers.

We found that teachers showed a high level of confidence in their ability to model dignity, respect and active listening in the classroom. However, the perspectives of young men painted a far more inconsistent picture. It pointed toward two significant disconnects.

First, that respect is defined very differently by educators and the boys and young men they taught. Around 90% of teachers reported that they consistently modelled dignity and respect in the classroom. But when speaking with the boys, often they described the respect they received from teachers as conditional, inconsistent or transactional. The expectation was that respect for teachers came from their position of authority and respect was only paid to the young men in return for theirs.

Second, that masculinity, emotion and online influence are poorly understood and rarely discussed. When asked, just a third of the educators we surveyed could recall a meaningful conversation with a male student about masculinity. Many felt uncomfortable and unprepared to have conversations like this. From the boys’ side, they described significant emotional needs which were often unmet, limited safe spaces to discuss feelings, and punitive responses to distress.

How teachers perceive working-class boys, and the opportunities they have to discuss masculinity at school, aren’t the only factors affecting academic attainment for these young men. Poverty, for instance, has a significant impact on early attainment and a lasting impact on educational success. But our research showed that when reflective, safe, judgement-free conversations occurred, the boys and young men responded positively. It demonstrates that working‑class boys engage, reflect and thrive in educational contexts where they feel respected, listened to and understood.

On the other hand, though, the research suggests that teachers are influenced by wider societal narratives. Within the study many educators defaulted to talking about misogyny or Andrew Tate even when not asked directly. This suggests a narrow lens of focus on issues related to masculinity, shaped by wider social anxieties.

The boys and young men consistently faced contradictory expectations about who they should be. They reported being told to “open up”, yet faced being penalised or ridiculed when they did. They were told to avoid harmful online content, yet weren’t provided any space to engage in critical, deliberate conversations about what they had seen.

Without that space for conversation on which to build, it is our fear that efforts to tackle misogyny, disengagement or disparities in educational outcomes will continue to fall short.

Jon Rainford conducts research for Boys Impact

Alex Blower is affiliated with Arts University Bournemouth and Boys’ Impact.

– ref. What working-class boys need to succeed at school: respect and open conversations – https://theconversation.com/what-working-class-boys-need-to-succeed-at-school-respect-and-open-conversations-277912

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Kathryn McDonald, Principal Academic in Audio Production, Bournemouth University

Podcasting has become one of our most intimate cultural forms. We often listen alone, through headphones, to voices that guide us through complex or deeply personal stories. Over time, we come to trust these voices not just for the information they convey, but for the sense that someone has listened, selected and shaped what we hear.

That relationship is unsettled by The Epstein Files, a new AI-generated podcast series that promises to process millions of Epstein-related documents into a coherent narrative. But when no one is clearly responsible for what we hear, the authority of the voice becomes harder to trust.

Created by data entrepreneur Adam Levy, the series draws on more than three million documents linked to Jeffrey Epstein and presents them as a “forensic audit” in the form of a conversational podcast between two AI-generated hosts.

Launched in February 2026, it’s had more than two million downloads so far. It’s a daily, self-updating show built through an automated pipeline that ingests, cross references and scripts material using AI systems, operating at a speed that traditional newsrooms could only dream of.

At first listen, The Epstein Files works, sounding like a carefully crafted podcast. But despite the jokes, cross-talk, hesitations and filler words that mirror shows like This American Life, Serial or S-Town, there are no identifiable human speakers behind the voices. From research to publication, the process appears to be largely automated, in line with Levy’s intention to “strip the emotion” from the story.

The hosts also claim that the podcast acts as a filter, combining AI-assisted processing with “human analysis” to review the records rather than speculate. But this distinction is harder to verify when the processes behind selection, interpretation and emphasis remain largely invisible.

Emotion, judgement and interpretation are seen here as irritations or threats. However, systems that select, rank and narrate information do not become neutral simply because those decisions bypass direct human involvement.

The series presents itself as “the first AI native” investigative documentary. Yet it lacks many of the features we’ve come to expect. There are no interviews, no location recordings, and hardly any sonic cues to guide the listener. Instead, it relies almost entirely on simulated conversation.

Scale is not judgement

The use of AI in podcasting is not simply a technical development. It disrupts the way shows are produced, structured and distributed. Rather than acting as a tool, these systems are beginning to reshape or obscure editorial processes that usually rely on human judgement.

The Epstein Files demonstrates how effectively AI can process vast quantities of material, producing a narrative that sounds coherent. But coherence is not the same as sense making, and pattern recognition is not interpretation. Deciding what matters, what is credible, and what should be left out remains a human task.

Automation does not remove judgement. Instead it relocates it, often in ways that are harder to see. Decisions are embedded in training data, system design and weighting mechanisms while appearing as neutral or unbiased outputs.

When information can be processed at scale, the question is no longer just what we know, but how we decide what counts as knowledge. Editorial standards don’t disappear, but they become harder to identify.

Why audio makes this harder

The human voice carries assumptions of authenticity. It signals presence, experience and connection. When we hear someone speak, we tend to assume a relationship between voice and responsibility. That assumption becomes more difficult to sustain when the voice is artificial yet sounds convincingly human.

These nameless hosts are not neutral. They are modelled on familiar broadcast styles associated with authority in western media. In doing so, they reproduce ideas about professionalism and trust, while remaining detached from any identifiable speaker.

What is striking about The Epstein Files is how persuasively authority is performed. The conversational structure suggests multiple perspectives, the tone implies neutrality, and the pacing suggests careful deliberation. But none of this guarantees that the material has been critically evaluated.

Content that creates itself

It could be argued that automation results in more transparency. But this relies on the assumption that volume can substitute for editorial oversight. When material is misinterpreted, stripped of context or simply wrong, it’s often unclear how those mistakes might be identified or addressed.

This is particularly troubling with material such as the Epstein case, which centres on human harm and exploitation. Such stories demand sensitivity, restraint and clearly traceable accountability. The way these stories are processed and retold can also feel detached from the people most affected by them.

At the same time, AI generated podcasts are growing. They are cheap to produce and increasingly difficult to distinguish from human made content. Their appeal may lie in speed, availability and the impression that someone has already done the work of sorting through chaos.

For audiences, the question is not only how to identify what is true or false. It’s also about recognising what is missing. Listening has typically meant encountering different voices, perspectives and forms of responsibility. When those elements are reduced or removed, the act of listening itself begins to change. The Epstein Files offers little sense of a right of reply for its audience. There is no clear editorial voice and no visible chain of accountability.

Broadcasting always depended on relationships between voices and listeners, and between storytelling and editorial judgement. This is beginning to change. The Epstein Files does not signal the end of podcasting or investigative journalism. But it marks a moment in which the cultural meaning of the voice is being tested.

Co-presence and community is central to radio and podcasting. But in The Epstein Files, nobody is there. There may be voices but if you listen very closely, you’ll notice that no one ever takes a breath.

Kathryn McDonald does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. The Epstein Files: the AI podcast that sounds like journalism but isn’t – https://theconversation.com/the-epstein-files-the-ai-podcast-that-sounds-like-journalism-but-isnt-281489

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Helen A. L. Currie, Research Fellow and Centre Manager, Centre for Blue Governance, University of Portsmouth

In central Seoul, South Korea, a motorway once covered a buried urban stream. Today, that same stretch has been uncovered – a process known as daylighting – and this river is home to plants, fish and insects. This flowing water cools the city in summer and attracts tens of thousands of people every day. What used to be concrete now boosts biodiversity, the local economy and community wellbeing.

Similar transformations are unfolding elsewhere.

In Christchurch, New Zealand, river habitats and wetlands were rebuilt after a major earthquake in 2011, guided in part by Māori knowledge of waterways and floodplains. In Vancouver, Canada, nature-based stormwater systems have been integrated into urban design through long-term collaboration with local First Nations.

Across the world, urban planning projects are beginning to take a different approach. One that designs with living freshwater systems, rather than trying to control and contain them.

In a new study, our international team of freshwater scientists and planning experts highlights that, while our towns and cities contain some of the world’s most degraded rivers, wetlands and ponds, they also provide huge opportunities for protecting and restoring freshwater wildlife.

Cities and towns have historically been designed with people in mind. Planning systems prioritise housing, transport, economic growth and flood defence – often treating rivers and streams as infrastructure rather than living ecosystems.

This hasn’t always been the case. Ancient civilisations, from the Indus to the Maya, built settlements around water. They worked with floods, wetlands and seasonal flows in ways that supported both people and nature. With the dawn of industrialisation and modern planning, floodplains were built on, rivers were straightened, streams buried and waterways increasingly engineered to move water through cities rather than support wildlife.

The consequences are stark and hard to ignore: degraded urban waterways, declining freshwater species, and whole cities are more vulnerable to climate-driven floods, heatwaves and water scarcity, contributing to a global collapse in freshwater biodiversity.

Our rivers, lakes, ponds and wetlands occupy only a tiny fraction of the planet while supporting roughly a third of all vertebrate species. Importantly, freshwater acts as an ecological life-support system, sustaining a range of species – including us.

This is why the latest figures are so alarming. Freshwater vertebrate animals such as salmon and eel populations have fallen by 85% over the last 50 years. This is one of the steepest collapses of any group of species on Earth. Urban waterways sit at the heart of this rapid decline.

Movement to deal with this crisis has started. Countries have signed up to ambitious global agreements, pledging to halt and reverse biodiversity loss.

But translating these promises into real change remains a major challenge.

Urban planners as allies

Urban planners shape the very environments where freshwater pressures are most intense – towns and cities. Every day, they make decisions affecting how land is zoned, how stormwater is managed, where green space goes, what buffers are protected, and how urban form evolves. Their actions ripple through entire catchments.

Yet most urban planners often aren’t supported or equipped with the ecological knowledge needed to incorporate freshwater biodiversity into daily practice.

Urban planners need the tools, training and support to recognise freshwater ecosystems as valuable living systems that underpin city resilience, human health and everyday wellbeing – rather than obstacles to be overcome.

In cities such as Breda in the Netherlands, Los Angeles in the US and Nanjing in China, this different way of thinking about freshwater is taking hold. And planners aren’t working alone.

Local residents and Indigenous communities, ecologists, engineers and even schools are often involved from the outset. Together, they bring diverse knowledge of the local context and can build a shared environmental stewardship. Early collaboration helps ensure freshwater biodiversity isn’t an afterthought and results in lasting care for rivers, ponds and wetlands.

Education matters too.

To foster this transition, silos between planning, ecology and engineering can be broken down. Land-use decisions can then be made with a clearer understanding of how water behaves across an entire catchment and how that shapes freshwater habitats.

Just as important is how knowledge flows. Freshwater biodiversity research doesn’t always reach the people making day-to-day planning decisions, or those designing and building projects on the ground. When planners, scientists and delivery teams have access to shared tools, open data or simple design guidance, nature-positive ideas are far more likely to make it off the page and into our cities.

Clear rules are also useful. Biodiversity targets only make a difference if they are backed up by practical local standards and the resources to implement them. For example, we need standards on how to protect riverbanks, restore floodplains or design stormwater systems that work with nature, rather than against it. Without that clarity – and the training and resources to support it – planners are often left trying to balance competing demands on their own.

There are still big gaps in what we know. How much space do urban rivers really need, and how does this vary from place to place? Which nature-based solutions work best across different landscapes? Urban planners can help answer these questions by learning from what works and using that knowledge to improve outcomes for freshwater biodiversity.

Urban planners – often working behind the scenes within local and devolved governments – are at the forefront of this transformation. They can embed freshwater biodiversity into the hearts of our cities.

However, planners cannot do this alone. Freshwater scientists, policymakers, river restoration specialists, engineers, social scientists and economists can work with planners. Universities and professional bodies can rethink how planning is taught. Governments can recognise planners as agents of ecological recovery, not just arbiters of urban growth.

Cities could become hubs for freshwater restoration and recovery, rather than hotspots of decline. They can become places where rivers, wetlands and people thrive together – with benefits that flow far beyond city boundaries.

Helen A. L. Currie receives funding from UKRI Engineering & Physical Sciences Research Council Noise Network +.

Irene Gregory-Eaves receives funding from the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada.

Steven J Cooke receives funding from the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada. He is appointed as Canadian Commissioner for the Great Lakes Fishery Commission.

– ref. How to build cities for wildlife, not just people – new research – https://theconversation.com/how-to-build-cities-for-wildlife-not-just-people-new-research-280388