Dead Poets Society

“Sit down, Mr. Anderson!” he shouted. “One more outburst from you...” He turned toward the rest of the class. “Or anyone else, and you are out of this school!” Nolan turned toward Keating, who had stepped back into the room toward Todd, as though to help. “Leave, Mr. Keating!” he shrieked. “Now!”
    The boys stared at Keating. He stared back at them, taking them all in for the last time. Then he turned and walked toward the door.
    “O Captain! My Captain!” Todd called out. Keating turned to look at Todd. The rest of the class turned, too. Todd propped one foot up on his desk, hoisted himself up onto it, and, fighting back tears, faced Mr. Keating.
    “Sit down,” Nolan yelled as he moved toward Todd.
    As Nolan started down the aisle toward him, Knox, on the other side of the room, called out Mr. Keating’s name and stood up on his desk too. Nolan turned toward Knox. Meeks mustered up his courage and stood up on his desk. Pitts did the same. One by one, and then in groups, others in the class followed their lead, standing on their desks in silent salute to Mr. Keating.
    Nolan gave up trying to control the class and stood motionless, staring in amazement at this overwhelming tribute to the former English teacher.
    Keating stood at the door, overcome with emotion. “Thank you, boys,” he said. “I... thank you.” Keating looked into Todd’s eyes, then into the eyes of all the Dead Poets. He nodded, then turned and walked out the door, leaving them standing on their desks in silent salute.