My Mum was never taught to cook at home, so when she was first married, just before WWII, she didn't have the first clue how to feed her husband or manage her home. She had to learn quickly, and when I came along she was determined to teach me all she knew - and my brothers to a lesser extent. Helping in the kitchen was always a privilege not a chore. I started at 5 with making mince pies from scrap pastry and making some white bread while Mum was making the big wholemeal batch loaves. We were allowed to make toffee, fudge and butterscotch (which teaches you some science), and cakes. Mum let me do the grocery order sometimes too, and I would go shopping in the village with her (no supermarkets then)
By the time I was 12 my Mum was seriously ill so I took over all the household management including cooking. She died when I turned 15 and from then on I either coped or I didn't, as there was no-one to ask, and my Dad expected perfection every time (including the odd dinner party which I stumbled through somehow

) I could prepare a variety of nutritious meals, preserves, Christmas cake, game, and plan ahead, managing the housekeeping money my Dad provided so I never ran out.
We didn't have a single cookery class at school, or home ec, and had to fight to get dressmaking for a year (hidden away in a back room - my school considered academia was the only way forward for women)
Once I got to Uni I was somewhat shocked at the standard student fare of pie and beans or fish and chips, and as soon as I could get into a flat with a kitchen I loved being able to cook.
My own children did get cookery at school for a year and the younger boy especially loved it, but by then they had both learnt the basics from me. They both married women who couldn't cook at the time, although they have learnt too. All of us are basic cooks of wholesome family food, with no fiddly bits of jus and toffee baskets, not one of us owns a kitchen blowtorch, and we arrange our food to lie on the plate not perched in ridiculous towers.
I hate cookery programmes. We rarely ate out before, but now we never do. Seeing chefs with sweaty hair and dirty tea towels at their waists or over their shoulders, for smearing their hands on, working with their bare fingers, just kills any appetite I might have. Also their idea of cooking meat which leaves it slightly brown on the outside but still barely dead inside genuinely makes me feel sick.
When my eldest grandson moved into his first flat, I bought him Delia's basic cookery book, which is perfect for someone starting out (he didn't get taught anything by his mother)
My thoughts on home ec and cookery at school are that it can only be beneficial to young folk. Their parents' generation seem not to have picked up much and live from carry-outs and restaurants, and struggle to make ends meet. Knowing how to cook from scratch and also how to grow your own food has to be the way for the future