ABSTRACT
When I was in third grade, school officials decided that it was unacceptable for my mother and aide still to be feeding me. The seven years I spent in occupational therapy and the numerous utensils with built-up handles and plates with raised edges and suction cups on the bottom had not proved helpful in bringing me to a point at which more food would be in my mouth than on the floor. Still, how was I ever going to be an accepted member of society if I could not feed myself?
