Dead Poets Society

slipped out the twig that held the rear
door open, and tiptoed to their rooms.
     
    The next day several
of the night revelers yawned as they sat in Mr. Keating’s class. Keating,
however, paced vigorously back and forth in front of the room.
    “A man is not very
tired, he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use... ” He snapped his fingers and
pointed to a boy.
    “Morose?”
    “Good!” Keating said
with a smile. “Language was invented for one reason, boys—” He snapped his
fingers again and pointed to Neil.
    “To communicate?”
    “No,” Keating said.
“To woo women. And, in that endeavor, laziness will not do. It also won’t do in
your essays.”
    The class laughed.
Keating closed his book, then walked to the front of the room and raised a map
that had covered the blackboard. On the board was Quotation. Keating read it
aloud to the class:
     
    “Creeds and schools
in abeyance, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original
energy…”.
     
    “Uncle Walt again,”
he said. “Ah, but the difficulty of ignoring those creeds and schools,
conditioned as we are by our parents, our traditions, b) the modern age. How do
we, like Walt, permit our own true natures to speak? How do we strip ourselves
of prejudices, habits, influences? The answer, my dear lads, is that we must
constantly endeavor to find a new point of view.” The boys listened intently.
Then suddenly Keating leaped up on his desk. “Why do I stand here?” he asked.
    “To feel taller?”
Charlie suggested.
    “I stand on my desk
to remind myself that we must constantly force ourselves to look at things
differently. The world looks different from up here. If you don’t believe it,
stand up here and try it. All of you. Take turns. ”
    Keating jumped off.
All of the boys, except for Todd Anderson, walked to the front of the room,
and, a few at a time, took turns standing on Keating’s desk. Keating strolled
up and down the aisles expectantly as he watched them.
    “If you’re sure
about something,” he said as they slowly returned to their seats, “force
yourself to think about it another way, even if you know its wrong or silly.
When you read, don’t consider only what the author thinks, but take time to
consider what you think.
    “You must strive to
find your own voice, boys, and the longer you wait to begin, the less likely
you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, ‘Most men lead lives of quiet
desperation.’ Why be resigned to that? Risk walking new ground. Now...” Keating
walked to the door as all eyes followed him intently. He looked at the class,
then flashed the room lights on and off over and over again, crying out a noise
that sounded like crashing thunder. “In addition to your essays,” he said after
this boisterous demonstration, “I want each of you to write a poem—something of
your own—to be delivered aloud in class. See you Monday.”
    With that he walked
out of the room. The class sat mute and baffled by their eccentric teacher.
After a moment, Keating popped his head back in, grinning impishly. “And don’t
think I don’t know this assignment scares you to death, Mr. Anderson, you
mole.” Keating held out his hand and pretended to send lightning bolts at Todd.
The class laughed nervously, somewhat embarrassed for Todd, who forced out a
hint of a smile.
    School ended early
on Friday, and the boys left Keating’s class, happy to have an afternoon off.
    “Let’s go up to the
bell tower and work on that Crystal radio antenna,” Pitts said to Meeks as they
Walked across campus. “Radio Free America!”
    “Sure,” Meeks said.
They walked past crowds wWaiting eagerly for the mailboxes to be filled. A
group of boys played lacrosse on the green, and in the distance, Mr. Nolan
called out orders to the Welton crew team practicing at the lake.
    Knox dropped his
books into the basket of his bicycle and cruised around the campus. He ap.
proached the Welton gates, checked over his shoulder to make sure he had not
been seen, and pedaled furiously out the gates, over the countryside, and into
Welton village.
    Breathing deeply, he
looked around for signs of anyone from Welton Academy as he pedaled over to
Ridgeway High School. He stopped at a fence, watching as students boarded three
parked buses. Uniformed members of the marching band, practicing their drum
rolls and scales, hopped on the first bus. Well-padded football players pushed
and shoved their way onto the second bus. Boarding