"Gentlemen, ladies,open your text to page twenty-one of the introduction. Mr Perry, will you read the opening paragraph of the preface, entitled 'Understanding Poetry'?" Mr Keating exclaimed in his usual energetic, chirpy voice.
"Understanding Poetry, by Dr. J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D. To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme, and figures of speech." Neil's voice was monotonous and bored while reading the paragraph while the rest of the class wasn't any better.
Juno was already slowly dosing off when she felt a pair of eyes watching her. The stare was intense but yet passionate, it intrigued Juno in more ways than one. She turned her head to see Charlie staring at her from the corner of his eye while his head was still facing his desk.
Juno's face went a bright red, almost brighter then Meeks's hair.
"Then ask two questions: One, how artfully has the objective of the poem been rendered, and two, how important is that objective."
Meeks looked over to his right where Dixie sat. She was lazily playing with the pencil in her hand, droning out whatever Neil was saying at that point.
Meeks found himself staring for longer then what was deemed necessary.
These past few days were confusing for the boy as all he could really think about was Dixie.
He found himself thinking about her before going to bed and while studying when his mind would wonder, it immediately thought about her.
It scared Meeks that he could be feeling such emotions for someone he met a few months ago.
The strong pull to her was what the book's described love to be.
Strong and hypnotic but yet you don't realise you are in too deep until the right moment.
Dixie was not who he imagined his type would be. He thought he would like someone more like Luna but he just fell fast for Dixie.
Maybe it was her more care free, anything goes personality that made him admire her.
Although reasoning unclear, what was clear was the fact that Meeks was staring at her for far far too long.
"Why don't you take a photo Steven? Maybe it will last longer." Dixie whispered just loud enough for Meeks to hear.
The poor boy was so embarrassed that he wanted to jump out of the classroom window and dig himself a hole to crawl into.
"Excrement. That's what I think of Mr. J.Evans Pritchard. We're not laying pipe, we're talking about poetry." Mr Keating's cheerful voice rang into the ears of the students making them sit up straighter and more awake.
"Now I want you to rip out that page."
Luna's eyes were so wide they looked like they could pop out of her skull. "He has officially gone mad."
Juno smiled to herself and slowly tore the thin piece of paper away from its spine with a satisfying rip.
Juno held the page out like a trophy and looked over to Charlie with a proud smile. Charlie smirked back and tore out his page with no hesitation.
"Thank you Mr Dalton, Miss Clarence.Ladies and gentlemen, tell you what, don't just tear out that page, tear out the entire introduction. I want it gone, history. Leave nothing of it. Rip it out. Rip! Begone J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D. Rip, shred, tear. Rip it out. I want to hear nothing but ripping of Mr Pritchard." Mr Keating had a thrill in his voice that persuaded the rest of the class to start aggressively rip out their books.
Mr Keating saw the absolute joy oozing from his students, finally destroying something that caused them so much pain.
"It's not the bible, you're not going to go to hell for this. Go on, make a clean tear, I want nothing left of it."
Cameron looked down at his book reluctantly and was the only one left not tearing his book. He looked over at Luna who was happily shredding her pages up.
"Luna! You should know better then this." Cameron whispered.
Luna rolled her eyes, "Loosen up Cameron! You heard the man, start ripping!"
Suddenly, the classroom's back door slammed open. "What the hell is going on here?" Boomed Mr McAllister.
The whole class froze and Charlie shoved and small piece of paper in his mouth to look innocent, making Juno scrunch her face up in disgust.
Mr Keating appeared out of his office with a bin in hand. "I don't hear enough rips!"
"I'm sorry, I- I didn't know you were here." Mr McAllister hurriedly apologised making Juno smile at the teacher.
After exiting the classroom, it went back to its chaotic state. With students throwing their paper balls at each other.
Charlie threw his at Juno and laughed at her annoyed expression.
"Please tell me you didn't throw to me the spit ball." Juno was very close to strangling the boy.
He smiled and held his hands up in defence. "I swear I didn't doll."
Juno glared at him, "Don't call me doll."
Mr Keating passed the bin around and held it out in front of Charlie. Charlie looked at Juno straight in the eyes and spat the piece of paper out.
Charlie raised his eyebrow at Juno, "Told you so princess."
"Thank you Mr Dalton. Armies of academics going forward, measuring poetry. No, we will not have that here. No more of Mr J. Evans Pritchard!"
Dixie threw her pieces of paper into the bin and laughing in content. "Damn I always wanted to do that."
"Now in my class you will learn to think for yourselves again. You will learn to savor words and language." With that, Dixie was intrigued.
Never before has she heard a teacher teach not because they had to but a teacher that taught with passion and a love for his subject.
Mr Keating walked into the middle of the classroom and squatted down, rest of the students gathered around their teacher, curious to what he had to say.
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race." Mr Keating said it with such passion that it filled every student with something they didn't really understand.
"And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are all noble pursuits, and necessary to sustain life,poetry,"
He looked up at Juno and Charlie, "Love, romance," Reverting his eyes back to the rest of his students, "these are what we stay alive for."
"To quote from Whitman: "O me, o life of the questions of these recurring, of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these, o me, o life? Answer: that you are here. That life exists, and identity. That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse."
There was hope in all their eyes, especially the girls in the class.
Their whole lives they were told that they were only good for honouring their husbands, staying at home and baring children. They were never meant to have their own paths.
If not, they have failed their purpose.
But now they felt a fleeting second of hope that they could persue something that they were good at. For just a second they forgot the terrible disadvantage they were in.
Mr Keating looked up at Todd smiling at him,
"What will your verse be?"
(A/N damn sorry for not posting for so Long, exams really just got me stressed and tired and drained. But for at least a week or two I'll post something. However during September I'll need to go on hiatus again because of end of year's so ya)