Dead Poets Society

it!”
    Nolan stood up
angrily. “Quiet, Mr. Anderson,” he ordered.
    “Mr. Keating,” Todd
continued, “it’s true. You have to believe me!”
    “I believe you,
Todd,” Keating said softly.
    Nolan was enraged.
“Leave, Mr. Keating!” he shouted.
    “But it wasn’t his
fault, Mr. Nolan!” Todd refused to stop.
    Nolan rushed down
the aisle and pushed Todd back into his seat. “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.