...the light of knowledge

        "Oh Captain, my captain."  Now where does that come from?  Anyone? Not a clue.  It's a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating, or if you're slightly more daring, "Oh Captain, my captain."
 
 
 

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may old time is still a flying, and this same flower that smiles today tomorrow will be dying.

     Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. The Latin term for that sentiment is carpe diem. Seize the day. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.

I don't think you've really looked at them.

        Why does the author use these words?  Because we are food for worms lads. Cause believe it or not each and everyone of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die.
        I'd like for you to step forward over here and peruse some of the faces from the past. You've walked past them many times, but I don't think you've really looked at them. They're not that different from you are they? Same haircuts, full of hormones just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they are 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 from their lives even one iota of what they were capable of? Cause you see gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils, but if you listen real close you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in. Listen, you hear it?

        Excrement. That's what I think of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard. We're not laying pipe, we're talking about poetry. I mean how can you describe poetry like American Bandstand. Well, I like Byron, I give him a 42, but I can't dance to it. Now I want you to rip out that page. Go on. Rip out the entire page. You heard me. Rip it out. Rip it out! Go on. Rip it out. Thank you Mr. Dalton.
        Gentlemen, tell you what, not just tear out that page, tear out the entire introduction. I want it gone, history. Leave nothing of it. Rip it out. Rip! Be gone J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D. Rip, shred, tear, rip it out! I want to hear nothing but ripping of Mr. Pritchard. We'll perforate it, put it on a roll. Its 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. Rip it out, rip! I don't hear enough rip!
 

        Keep ripping gentlemen. This is a battle, a war, and the casualties could be your hearts and souls. Thank you Mr. Dalton. Armies of academics going forward measuring poetry, no! We will not have that here. No more Mr. J. Evans Pritchard.
        Now in my class you will learn to think for yourselves again. You will learn to savor words and language. No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world.
        Now I see that look in Mr. Pitt's eye that 19th century literature has nothing to do with going to business school and medical school. Right? Maybe. Mr. Hopkins, you may agree with him thinking yes, we should simply study our Mr. Pritchard and learn our rhyme and meter and go quietly about the business of achieving other ambitions. I have a little secret for you, huddle up. Huddle up!
        We don't read and write poetry because its cute, we read and write poetry because we are members of the human race, and the human race is full of passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life, but poetry, beauty, romance, love. 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 of the foolish. What good amid thee, o me o life. Answer. That you are here. That life exists, an identity. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse."  That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?
 
 

        Gentlemen, can you keep a secret? The Dead Poets were dedicated to "sucking the marrow out of life." That's a phrase from Thoreau we would invoke at the beginning of every meeting. See, we would gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley, the biggies, even some of our own verse and in the enchantment of the moment, we'd let poetry work its magic.
        You mean it was a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry?
        No, Mr. Overstreet, it wasn't just guys. We weren't a Greek organization, we were romantics. And we didn't just read poetry, we let in drip from our tongues like honey. Spirits soared, women swooned, and gods were created gentlemen. Not a bad way to spend an evening eh?
 
 

        Why do I stand up here? Anybody?
        To feel taller?
        No, <ding>. Thank you for playing for Mr. Dalton.
        I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way. You see, the world looks very different from up here. You don't believe me? Come see for yourselves, come on. Come on.
        Just when you think you know something, you have to look at it in another way even though it may seem silly, or wrong. You must try! Now when you read, don't just consider what the author thinks, consider what you think.
        Boys, you must strive to find your own voice, but 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." Don't be resigned to that. Break out! Don't just walk off the edge like lemmings; look around you. There, there you go, yes! Dare to strike out and find new ground.
 
 

        I don't mind that your poem had a simple theme. Sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things like a cat, or flower, or rain. You see poetry come from anything with the stuff of revelation in it. Just don't let your poems be ordinary.
 
 
 
 

I close my eyes, and this image floats beside me. A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain. His hands reach out and choke me. And all the time he's mumbling truth like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. Kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. And from the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying it'll just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.

        No grades at stake gentlemen. Just take a stroll. There it is. Left-left, left-right-left. Left-halt! Thank you gentlemen.
        You notice everyone started off with their own stride, their own pace. Mr. Pitts, taking his time. He knew he'll get there one day. Mr. Cameron, you can see him thinking "Is this right? It might be right? It might be right? Maybe not. I don't know." Mr. Overstreet, driven by a deeper force, yes. We know that, alright.
        Now I didn't bring them up here to ridicule them. I brought them up here to illustrate the point of conformity. The difficulty of maintaining your own beliefs in the face of others. Now those of you, I see the look in your eyes like, "I would have walked differently." Well, ask yourselves why you were clapping.
        Now we all have a need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own. Even though others may think them odd or unpopular. Even though the herd may go, "That's baaad!"
        Robert Frost said, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."
        Now I want you to find your own walk right now. Your own way of striding, pacing. Any direction, anything you want, whether its proud, whether its silly, anything. Gentlemen, the courtyard is yours. You don't have to perform. Just make it for yourself. Mr. Dalton, will you be joining us? Exercising the right not to walk. Thank you Mr. Dalton, just to illustrate the point. Swim against the stream.
 
 

        Mr. Dalton, that was a pretty lame stunt you pulled today.
        You're siding with Mr. Nolan? What about carpe diem, and sucking all the marrow out of life?
        Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone. You see there's a time for daring and there's a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for.
        But I thought you'd like that.
        No. You being expelled from school is not daring to me, its stupid. Cause you'll miss some golden opportunities.
        Yeah, like what?
        Like, if nothing else, the opportunity to attend my classes. Got it ace?
        Aye aye captain.
        Keep your head about you. That goes for the lot of you.
        Yes, captain.
        Phone call from God. If it had been collect, it would have been daring.

        How do you stand it?
        Stand what?
        You can go anywhere. You can do anything. How can you stand being here.
        Because I love teaching. I don't want to be anywhere else.
 
 

         Sit down Mr. Anderson! Do you hear me? Sit down. Sit down! This is your final warning Anderson. How dare you? Do you hear me?
        Oh Captain, my captain.
        Mr. Overstreet I warn you, sit down! Sit down! Sit down all of you. I want you seated! Sit down. Leave Mr. Keating! All of you, down. I want you seated! Do you hear me? Sit down!
        Thank you, boys. Thank you.