HOW DID IT END? | todd anderson

faded memories i.

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flashback

"Todd Anderson." a stern voice echoed through the silent halls. Dr. Hagar was calling us one by one to mr. Nolan's office to sign the papers and agree that Mr. Keating will be fired, that we we're apart of the 'Dead Poets Society', and that Keating was the one to blame. but they we're wrong.

following behind Dr. Hagar, i noticed how dull looking Welton really is. How the rust was slowly cracking along the hardwood floors, how the stairs creaked hauntingly as i stepped on each of them, and how silent noises sounded louder than ever. I glanced at the photos that hung on the pale walls, of faces that once roamed these halls. suddenly, Dr. Hagar opened the door to reveal Mr. Nolan, seated firmly at his desk, and beside him, my parents; who's faces looked at me with sorrow.

"hello, son." said my father. "hello, darling -" came my mother's voice shortly after. i mumbled 'mom?' under my breath, but no sound was heard. the door closed behind me and i glanced around my shoulder to the noise it made. i stood there, unknowingly what to do. "have a seat, Mr. Anderson." Mr. Nolan toned. i slowly walked to the wooden seat that was placed next to my mother.

"Mr. Anderson, i think we've pretty well put together what's happened here. you do admit to being apart of this - 'Dead Poets Society'?" he looked to me, eyes gazing deep into my soul. I couldn't find any words to say. "Answer him, Todd." my father said, when i didn't reply back to him. i looked to my father, and then my mother. a lump started to form in my throat.

"Yes, sir." i whispered, looking off into the distance, keeping my own eyes away from the problems that we're faced before me. "I have here;" Nolan proceeded. "a very detailed description of what occured at your meetings. It discribes how your teacher Mr. Keating encouraged you boys to organize this 'club', and to use it as a source of inspiration; for reckless, self indulgend behavior."
"It discribes how Mr. Keating - both in and out of the classroom - encouraged Neil Perry to follow his obsession with acting; when he knew all along it was against the orders of Neil's parents. It was Mr. Keatings blatend abuse as position as teacher, that lead directly to Neil Perry's death."

the breath was out of my lungs. i couldn't breathe. i glanced back to my parents who sat there in their own regret and sorrow. I looked back to Mr. Nolan, who only glanced to my parents. My father picked up a few sheets of paper, and handed them over to me. "Read that document carefully, Todd." i glanced down to the document with shaking hands. "very carefully." Nolan toned, but almost with a hushed voice. "If you have nothing to add or amend; sign it." he spoke, handing me his blue fountian pen.

looking further at the document that rested in my hands, i saw all of their signatures, minus Nuwanda's - and Neils . . . I looked back up to Mr. Nolan, finally, with words coming out of my mouth. "What's going to happen to Mr. Keating?" i asked, looking directly at him. my hands were shaking, palms sweaty, the ends of my hair wet, and my face flushed.

a heavy, irritated sigh, came from my father. "I've had enough. sign the paper, Todd." he echoed to me, making me more nervous than i already was. that blue fountian pen still rested on Mr. Nolan's hand.

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That afternoon, i sat quietly at my desk in what once was Mr. Keatings classroom. it was all silent, not one voice was heard. a door opened and closed. i looked to see who it was, and to a slight surprise it was Mr. Nolan. instantly, we all rose to our feet. "Sit." Mr. Nolan said, in a modulated tone.

"I will be teaching this class through exams. until finding a permanent  English teacher during the break." he walked to the desk where Keating once sat. continuing: "who will tell me where you are in the Pritchard textbook?" silence. not one word. Mr Nolan looked around the classroom, and then to me. "Mr. Anderson." i swallowed and managed - though, not enough - words to him. "in- in the Prit-" i began. "I can't hear you Mr. Anderson." he boomed to me; and i froze. he left me to sit there, speaking quietly before talking once more. "Kindly inform me, Mr. Cameron."

"We skipped around a lot, Sir. We covered the romantics and some of the chapters on post Civil War Literature."
"What about the realists?"
"I believe we skipped most of that, sir." Cameron said, tapping his pencil on his desk, faintly, but enough for me to hear.
"Alright then. we'll start over." Nolan said, eyeing all of us in the room. i glanced feverishly up at him and back down to the textbook. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "come." Nolan said, directing his attention to whoever was coming in the room. It was Mr. Keating.

"Excuse me . ." Keating spoke, softly. "I've came for my personals." he said to Nolan. At glance, my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach, i wanted to run to Keating and tell him all the things that this school was wrong for, that it wasn't his fault. "should i get them after class?" Keating asked, Nolan proceeded; "Get them now, Mr. Keating." to this, he nodded and made his way around the desks, past me, and into the small room behind the wall that held two chalkboards.

"Gentlemen, turn to page twenty-one of the introduction." his voice echoed to us, my hands we're still sweaty. "Mr. Cameron; read aloud the 'excellent essay' by Dr. Pritchard on 'Understanding Poetry'." Mr. Keating opened the wooden door and walked through it to collect his belongings. Cameron spoke up. "I'm afraid that page has been ripped out, sir."
"Well, borrow somebody else's book."
"They're all ripped out, sir."
to this, Nolan chuckled "What do you mean, 'they're all ripped out'?"
"Sir, we-" Cameron started, but was interrupted, "Nevermind."

Nolan walked to Cameron's desk and rested the book down on his, then slammed his hand on the page where the introduction began. "read."
"Understanding poetry, by Dr. J. Evans Pritchard PhD. To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its menors, rhymes, and figures of speech. Then asked two questions:" I sat still in my chair, watching Mr. Keating behind the cracked door, pack his belongings. I couldn't stand it anymore, i couldn't stand being at this school any longer than i already had.

Mr. Keating walked out of the small room, and shut the door behind him. as Cameron was reading, he stopped fot a moment to look at him before reading again. as Keating passed me, i slughtly turned my head to him, voice shaking and wanting to let the words fall out, but nothing came.

halfway when Keating was about to leave, i stood. "Mr. Keating, they made everyone sign it- i- you've gotta believe me, it's true!" i shouted out. Mr. Nolan who was beside my desk now, demanded me to sit back down in my seat. "I do believe you, Todd." Mr. Keating told me, in a reasuring tone. "Leave Mr. Keating." Nolan pressed on, wanting him to leave so there would be no outburst from me again. i whipped around to face Nolan. "But it wasn't his fault!" "Sit down, Mr. Anderson." he demanded back to me. "one more outburst from you, or anyone else, and you're out!" i sat back down in my seat, on the edge of tears. "Leave Mr. Keating." to this, Keating wouldn't budge.

"I said leave Mr. Keating." Nolan said, eyeing him with a haunting glare. the hardwood floor creaked as he walked to the door. he opened the door and i stood, only this time, upon my desk. "O Captian, My Captian." i said, standing straight and looking Mr. Keating in his eyes. "Sit down, Mr. Anderson." Nolan demanded yet again, to me. "Do you hear me? sit, down!" he was looking up at me, but i paid no mind to him. Mr. Keating looked at me, smiling a little in sorrow.

"This is your final warning! - how dare you! - do you hear me?!" Mr. Nolan echoed. another set of feet stood on their desk; it was Knox. "O Captian, My Captian." recited Knox. soon, everyone - minus a few - stood on their desks, just like me. my lips curled into a soft smile, just bearly enough to see. my breathing became heavy and i felt all of the weight lifted off of my shoulders.

"Thank you, boys. Thank you." Mr. Keating said, and i kept my gaze to him. staring back at me wasn't just a teacher, it wasn't just Mr. Keating, but it was someone who changed who i was; who i am.

end of flashback
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— author's note reads : many chapters to be written tonight and possibly published; this is chapter one of ____. i hope you've enjoyed reading this, but i hope it wasn't boring, considering it's the ending of dead poets society. it was a good way to start this book. again, thank you for reading ♡ next chapter is down below when you swipe xx.

word count : 1500
time : ix pm
date : may 1st '24