“Haaannnnaahh Bannnnana!” sounds through the hallway as I walk to my fifth period class.  I turn around and to no surprise I see Mo.  Mo, adorned in his usual red McLean sweatshirt and his gray sweatpants, is sitting on the red holey bench with his fellow classmates. These 6 students I see are in the MR program and all have gym fifth period.

After Mrs. Doane finishes talking to her students, I head over to say hi to Mo.  I know before even saying hello to him what he is going to say to me; Mo and I have had the same conversation at least twice a week for the past two months. Mo’s head is slightly tilted down, as to not make eye contact with me.  His eyes are sad, and it is obvious that he is thinking hard so he can tell me what exactly is bothering him.

“I hate B lunch.  You are not in lunch with me anymore,” he stutters.  All I can say to him is that I will visit him at B Lunch, but that is not good enough.

Last year Mo would sit at my lunch table with six of my friends.  Since the first day we welcomed him to our table he continually sat with us every day. Mo made our lunch lively and fun..  It was not that we gave him extra attention, or that we gave him pitied attention.  We all wanted Mo at our table.  He would give each of us nicknames, all derived from mine: Hannah Banana.  There was Jenny Ice Cream, Jenna Peach, Annie Pizza, Nadine Apple, Molly Orange, and Vanessa Chocolate.  Mo told each one of us that he loved us as a friend.  And we loved him as a friend.

This year Mo has B lunch and I have A lunch.  We no longer sit with him, comment on his quadruple layer peanut butter sandwich, or beg him to sing, “I believe I can fly.”  These memories will be with me forever, but for Mo it is different.  He does not understand that he can’t have what he had last year, or at least with the same people.

The times I do go visit him at B Lunch he is sitting by himself at a round table, surrounded by other tables packed with laughing students, all who are oblivious to Mo.

Mo could sit with the others students in the MR program, but he shouldn’t have to.  Why can’t Mo experience life with people outside of “his norm”? Because those people won’t let him.

There is no sacrifice in allowing Mo to sit with you at lunch, or in giving Rapee a high five in the hall, or in coming to the special Olympic games to cheer on your classmates.  These students in the MR program are lucky enough to attend a high school where they are given some of the opportunities as other “normal” kids their age. Why do they have to be isolated from their fellow classmates at lunch, in class, in the hallways, or on sports teams. Yes they are different, but so is every other student.  They are given the opportunity to spend their high school experience with regular students their own age.  Now it is up to these students to let them enjoy their company.