❛ There's my love strollin' through the door. ❜
DEAD POETS SOCIETY
chapter four
ENGLISH WAS A normal enough class with normal enough desks and normal enough students sitting in their normal enough classroom. The only thing not so normal was their new teacher, Mr. Keating, that none of the boys knew much about. They didn't know if he was strict, considerate, rude, kind, boring, entertaining, disgusting, or bearable.
⠀⠀⠀All that the few boys that were close friends with Knox Overstreet knew was that his niece, Eliza Keating, was staying within the walls of Welton for 'special circumstances.
⠀⠀⠀It was the first time any girl had been allowed inside Welton for more than the Welcoming Ceremony. Seeing as she was not attending the school and was left off the records of ever stepping inside the school. So Welton could keep quiet on the matter and preserve their godly image.
⠀⠀⠀For now, the boys were just ecstatic to see her for the first time. Or for a few of the boys, again. They had discussed it all the night before rather than studying their Latin and determining what she was like. Knox said she was friendly and quiet but funny, unlike the other girls the boys had met who were stuck up and shrill.
⠀⠀⠀On the other side of the room, where Mr. Keating's office was, Eliza and John stood inside as the boys took their seats. It was just before lunch, and Eliza had been sitting in his office doing her studies.
⠀⠀⠀John had told her the day before that she would join one of his classes as he saw fit. Still, when he recognized one boy that Eliza seemed to get along well with during the Welcoming Ceremonies, he decided.
⠀⠀⠀"You will be joining this class, Eliza. Now, you will probably know a fair bit more than these stiffly wound boys, so you'll act as both student and teacher's assistant," John informed her.
⠀⠀⠀"That sounds fine with me," Eliza nodded her head. "As a teacher's assistant, would you like me to take roll?"
⠀⠀⠀"Yes, good, good," John cheered, spinning on the toe of his shoe before picking up the clipboard he had been using for the day. "There you are," he said, handing it over to her. "For now, stay in here. We're going to take a little field trip."
⠀⠀⠀John made his way to the door, looked outside as the boys tossed paper balls, and talked excitedly amongst themselves without a teacher to scold them.
⠀⠀⠀"To where?" Eliza asked curiously.
⠀⠀⠀"To their past," John grinned mysteriously, straightening his back and flinging the door open to the door.
⠀⠀⠀The door hit the wall and fell back into place as John walked amongst his students, whistling the 1812 Overture. Eliza made her way to the door and peeked out to see the boys straight like a board at the sight of their teacher. Their eyes followed along as the man made his way around the room and out of the door.
⠀⠀⠀Confused, they continued to sit, waiting for instruction. However, besides John sticking his head into the room, no one came and looked around at the students, still stiffened by tradition.
⠀⠀⠀"Well, come on," John called to the boys.
⠀⠀⠀The boys sat, laughing for a moment, believing their teacher to have a funny sense of humor, unlike the other ones at Welton. But a few more seconds passed, and he had yet to return, and soon it set in. They indeed were supposed to follow. So the boys gathered their things and hurried out of the room to follow.
⠀⠀⠀Eliza waited as the last few made their way out before leaving his office, finding Knox, one of the last few.
⠀⠀⠀"Knox," she whisper-yelled at the sight of him, rushing towards him and catching him off guard with a bone-crushing hug.
⠀⠀⠀Behind her, a low wolf-whistle emitted from one of the boys in the class. He had a look similar to Knox, but his hair was a little more unkempt, and his eyes held a mischievous light to them.
⠀⠀⠀"You must be Eliza," Charlie said, smiling ravenously at her. "Knox has told us all about you."
⠀⠀⠀"Like what?" she asked. "That my Uncle is Mr. Keating, and my name is Eliza?" she held a similar smile to Charlie's as she raised an eyebrow. "There wasn't much we talked about at the ceremonies to be talked about."
⠀⠀⠀"You're here, aren't you?" Charlie asked, his smile lowering into a smirk. "That's enough to talk about."
⠀⠀⠀Knox's eyes bounced between the two like he was watching a tennis match. Then, when the ball flew out of court, he interrupted, "We should get going," he stated, tugging Charlie's arm in warning. "The class has already left us behind.
The room Mr. Keating had led his class to began to settle as the boys finished filtering in. Charlie, Eliza, and Knox came in from behind the rest and lingered in the back.
⠀⠀⠀"Oh Captain, My Captain, who knows where that comes from?" Mr. Keating asked his class.
⠀⠀⠀Eliza watched as the boys finished talking and turned to him, but none of them answered.
⠀⠀⠀"Not a clue?" Mr. Keating asked, trying to catch any of their eyes, but all were downcast if he tried to call on them. "It's a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now, in this class, you can call me Mr. Keating or, if you're slightly more daring, Oh Captain, My Captain," he stated, a hopeful note in hopes they would call him. Instead, the boys only laughed at his sentiment.
⠀⠀⠀"Now, let me dispel a few rumors, so they don't fester into facts," Mr. Keating said, looking around at the boys. "Yes, I, too, attended Hell-ton and survived. And no, at that time, I was not the mental giant you see before you. I was the intellectual equivalent of a ninety-eight-pound weakling. I would go to the beach, and people would kick copies of Byron in my face."
⠀⠀⠀The boys, and even Eliza, laughed at the image of a younger John Keating lying on the beach reading poetry. If any of their peers did that, they would most likely do the same. They laughed at the knowledge of that.
⠀⠀⠀"Along with that, yes, my niece has come to stay with us at Welton under exceptional circumstances. She is not in attendance at Welton as she is, in fact, a girl. Still, she will be joining your class to earn her English credit," he explained, waving a hand towards the back where Eliza stood. The room shifted her way, and tens of eyes were gazing back at her. She smiled awkwardly at the boy's gaping and waved her hand. "I would advise that you all keep her presence in your class to a minimum when you speak to your classmates or other teachers. It is not necessarily allowed, but I would like to have her engage in some kind of social aspect while here."
⠀⠀⠀The boys turned back to the front but had murmured amongst themselves about the fact that a girl would be in their class. It had been so long since the boys had been around a girl for longer than a summer. Now, they'd have her for an entire school year. Never had any boys been so lucky, and now they could gawk and talk to one as much as they'd like.
⠀⠀⠀"Now, Eliza, why don't you choose a name to read our first poem?" John cheered over the boys chittering and brought their attention back to him.
⠀⠀⠀"Pitts!" she called up to him after finding the first name to stick to her.
⠀⠀⠀Mr. Keating deflated at the name, his shoulders slumped and an odd frown formed as he found Eliza's green eyes in the crowd.
⠀⠀⠀"That's a rather unfortunate name," he stated, turning back to the class. "Mr. Pitts, where are you?" he asked, looking across the faces of boys to find a tall young man with a buzz cut slowly raised his hand in embarrassment as all his friends laughed. "Mr. Pitts, would you open your hymnal to page 542 and read the first stanza of the poem you find there?"
⠀⠀⠀"To the Virgins, To Make Much Time?" Pitts asked, making sure he had flipped to the right page as the title seemed to be something they would not be reading.
⠀⠀⠀"Yes, that one," Mr. Keating affirmed, a teasing grin. "Somewhat appropriate, isn't it?"
⠀⠀⠀Pitts nodded, rolling his shoulders back, and hunched over his hymnal to read aloud.
⠀⠀⠀"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.
⠀⠀⠀Old Time is still a-flying:
⠀⠀⠀And this same flower that smiles today,
⠀⠀⠀Tomorrow will be dying."
⠀⠀⠀"Thank you, Mr. Pitts!" John cheered, turning to the boys, his eyebrows drawn in contemplation as he began his lecture. "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. The Latin term for that sentiment is carpe diem. Now, who knows what that means?"
⠀⠀⠀Meeks stood at the front of the class and rose his hand immediately, having actually studied Latin the night before. "Carpe diem," he repeated when Mr. Keating had pointed to him. "That's seize the day."
⠀⠀⠀"Very good," John nodded his head, leaning towards Meeks. "Mister?"
⠀⠀⠀"Meeks," he supplied.
⠀⠀⠀Mr. Keating let a smile slip at the name as he said, "Another unusual name."
⠀⠀⠀Eliza lifted her clipboard up, writing small notes by the boys that she knew the names of. John was a good man, but working with so many boys would most likely be hard to keep up with names. So, even a tiny thing to help jog his memory of who was who would hopefully be helpful.
⠀⠀⠀"Seize the day, gather ye rosebuds while ye may," Mr. Keating recited both sentiments a second time so that it would sink in. "Why does the writer use these lines?" he asked.
⠀⠀⠀"Because he's in a hurry," Charlie called from where he leaned against one of the trophy cases. Eliza turned back to glance at him. A slight smirk rested on his lips as he caught her eye and winked.
⠀⠀⠀"No, ding!" Mr. Keating exclaimed, putting his hand down on an imaginary buzzer. "Thank you for playing anyway," he stated, catching Eliza as she turned back to the front. "Eliza, thoughts? I don't believe you've read this one," he called, pointing to his niece in the back, who had grown nervous under the spotlight.
⠀⠀⠀"Um, do the things you want before you can't anymore?" she said, her statement raising into a question as she was unsure of herself at the moment.
⠀⠀⠀John squinted his eyes at her, but nodded his head softly, accepting her answer. "Similar, yes. But, we are food for worms, lads, because believe it or not, every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold and die."
⠀⠀⠀The room fell cold at the sharp twist of his words, settling into their thoughts.
⠀⠀⠀"Now, I would like you to step forward over here and peruse some faces from the past. You've walked past them many times, but I don't think you've really looked at them," Mr. Keating proceeded. Then he stepped away from the trophy cases behind him and allowed the boys to swarm in.
⠀⠀⠀"Hey, you did good," Knox told Eliza as they stepped up to the images.
⠀⠀⠀"Thanks," she whispered back with a small smile.
⠀⠀⠀"They're not that different from you, are they? Besides Eliza, they have the same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you. Their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make their lives even one iota of what they were capable of? Because, you see, gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils, but if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy. Go on, lean in," Mr. Keating urged.
⠀⠀⠀The boys and Eliza all shuffled forward, becoming closer than before. Charlie stood shoulder to shoulder with Eliza as he smiled down at her with a quirked eyebrow.
⠀⠀⠀"Sorry," he whispered, but he didn't sound very sorry.
⠀⠀⠀"Carpe... Carpe... Carpe Diem," Mr. Keating rasped behind them, causing a few heads to turn. "Hear it?" he asked. "Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary!" he continued to rasp through the silent room until the bell rang.
AUTHOR'S NOTE —
This was supposed to be longer until I realized it was already a lot longer than the rest of my chapters so far so I'm cutting it off here and will hopefully post another chapter sometime today with the second half!
POEM: Robert Herrick, "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time"
SONG: The Stroll by The Diamonds
Thank you for reading! Leave comments telling me your thoughts on this chapter, but however you interact, know that I really appreciate you reading. I hope you enjoy, and until the next one.