What the kids didn't know was that the oatmeal in that breakfast was laced with radioactive iron and calcium tracers. The whole thing was in fact an experiment commissioned by the Quaker Oats Company to find out precisely how nutritious their product was compared to the competition (by tracking the iron in the kids' systems).
The warm, avuncular smile of a man who wants to feed children radiation and then watch what happens.
The levels of radiation used in the study were harmless, but the real scandal was Quaker's disregard for informed consent. No one asked these kids or their parents if they could be used as human guinea pigs. They didn't even bother to trick them into signing release forms by disguising them as letters to Mickey Mouse or something. Keep in mind that this happened after the Nuremberg Code was instituted to prevent these types of shenanigans (the experiments continued until at least 1957).
In the '90s, several dozen former Fernald pupils got together and filed a class-action suit against Quaker, MIT, and the government, which was quickly settled for $3 million. See? Everything turned out perfectly fine.