Where do They all Belong?

John Lennon and Paul McCartney's lyrics never so well applied to today...

“Ah look at all the lonely people/ Eleanor Rig…” the famed words of John Lennon and Paul McCartney cut short as I yank earbuds from my ears to hear not only the mocking shriek of the beginning class bell, but also the words every introvert most dreads to hear in such a setting: “Please organize yourselves into groups”. As one of only three seniors attending a freshman science class because of having already taken biology freshman year and having no desire to pursue a medical profession, I had decided not to take Anatomy and Physiology. My two close friends sit listening to the wonders of the human body in a different classroom. They cannot bail me out.

Per usual, I wait until the last moment, scanning the room to see who else needs a partner. My answer chatters almost incessantly in front of me: my best friend’s little brother: Greg. I scan the room, almost guiltily, for other options. My eyes catch a lone curly haired head huddled over a game on his I-pad and my heart instantly floods with pity and shame. My attention focused so much on myself, I had forgotten about Lorne: constantly ignored or worse, teased, because of his autism and intense shyness. “Hey! Do you want to join our group?” The tousled brown hair remains fixed in place. I lightly tap his shoulder so as not to startle him, “Hey Lorne. Do want to join our group?” I gesture to Greg, who had already expressed a desire to join forces, and myself. “Sure… Ok.” He mumbles, still half bent over his game.

A loud “bang!” Emanates from the opposite side of the classroom. Lorne instantly cowards even further into his desk, his fingers dig into his ears. The teacher, Mr. Indiff, used to the rowdiness of typical freshman, ignores both the culprits of the blast and Lorne’s petrified response. He continues to explain the lab, “We will be analyzing how temperature affects air pressure. Each group will receive one balloon”.  Another “bang!” sounds in reply. Snickers begin to permeate throughout the classroom. “Surely he’ll do something!” I think to myself. Both Mr. Indiff and the rest of the class know that Lorne has both Autism and Asperger’s… Don’t they? This makes him especially sensitive to loud sounds. The cluster of freshman boys continue popping balloons.

“All the lonely people/ Where do they all come from?” The song still belts in my head, “Morons like these doing nothing about it.” I mentally respond. Everyone swiftly rushes for the lab tables with the best supplies. There are only three meter sticks and three thermometers for five groups. Needless to say, our group strikes out. Another “bang!” sounds. Lorne makes a bolt for the door, fingers still intensely dug into his ears. “Hey Lorne!” a diminutive freshman voice sounds. Several savage little boys wave balloons threateningly at him. “Where do they all come from?” McCartney nags. A new answer bursts out “From onlookers refusing to take action”. “Hey! Enough!” my screaming conscience overrides my typically diffident nature. I wish to say more, however, never having heard my voice raised before, the cowardly Napoleons quickly slink away to their respected lab tables. Mr. Indiff simply stands in the back of the classroom, discussing completely non-lab related material, with some other freshman boys, “The Seahawks will win this season I’m certain of it! They should be team of the year!”. “He certainly won’t make teacher of the year” I think to myself. With knowledge of Lorne’s disability, he should had acted first.

“All the lonely people/ Where do they all belong?” the song, beginning to become annoying, plays on loop in my mind. After coaxing Lorne back into the classroom, him, Greg, and I begin the lab. Lorne eyes the boiling water with apprehension as we place the pre-measured balloon over the steam, his fingers not budging from their hold.  “It’s alright, Lorne. We’ll be extra careful not to pop it.” I say. Greg chimes in “Yeah, we’ll heat it up real slow and remove it before it grows too big!” Lorne slowly responds, “I… I just really don’t like them popping…”. His fingers, though loosened slightly, remain.

Although we try to include him, Greg and I complete the lab while Lorne watches from afar. “At least this way his grade won’t go down” I think to myself “He has a group to depend on…”. I mentally chastise myself, “Grades aren’t all that matter in life. You know that once you leave this class you have friends you can rely on. Who does he have?” I turn from my thoughts to hear Greg talking to Lorne excitedly about video games. Lorne’s fingers, forgetting their post, tap swiftly on his I-pad, showing Greg his favorite level. I give Greg a wink and clean up the remaining lab materials, still inwardly humming the song “Where do they all belong?”. “Together” my mind responds, looking at the still animated faces of both Lorne and Greg… “Together”.

 

Author's Note

Hope you enjoy and gained something from reading it. It is a narrative essay that I wrote for a summer class.

Reviews

[Miss Fedelm]

I went back and took a couple of years of classes starting in 2009. I was amazed how school had morphed into a total group activity. There were no solitary efforts, everything was a group project. A real handicap for people who functioned better on their own. I don't know the reason for this. Leadership training maybe? But this was biochemistry for Gods sake, not business or poly sci.

[Morgan Bland]

Definitely. There are many different ways to learn for many different kinds of people. I guess they figure for the more distracted or learning challenged students it will help them stay on task and motivated if they work with people... Unfortunately that does not apply to everyone.