Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this fic. The poem is "O CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN" By Walt Whitman.
"O, Captain, my Captain." I paused at the door when I heard those words. Not just because of the words, but because who said them. I turned around, proud to see the once shy Mr. Anderson standing on top of his desk, nearly giving Mr. Nolan a coronary.
"Get down, Mr. Anderson. Do you hear me?" Mr. Nolan demanded, but if Todd heard, he paid no attention.
I smiled slightly to myself, proud at the man I had helped to create. As I nodded to Todd, I heard those four words again, this time with an emphasis on my. I looked over to see Knox Overstreet standing on his desk. One by one they stood and I felt my heart nearly burst with pride.
"O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from?" Silence. So I asked again. "Anybody? Not a clue?" When none of the young men answer, I tell them. "It's from 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, O Captain my Captain." A fair amount of small giggles follow. I knew the boys are unsure of me and if I were honest, I'd be unsure of myself as well. I'm not the teacher most parents would want for their boys, admittedly. I've always thought, held true, that the purpose of education was to learn to think for yourself. I wanted these boys to have their own voices.
And…with Misters Anderson and Overstreet standing on their desks, in blatant disregard for Mr. Nolan's authority.
I stood on my desk, hoping to illustrate a point. "Why do I stand up here?"
One of my favorite pupils, Charlie Dalton, answered. "To feel taller!"
I laugh. "No!" I dinged the bell on my desk with my foot. "Thank you for playing Mr. Dalton. I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way." I encouraged them to follow suit; to look at the world differently. I wanted them to learn. Each of them did, with only one or two jumping off like lemmings.
As each boy stood on their desk, I knew I had an impact. With a heart ready to burst with pride, I said the only thing I could think of. "Thank you, boys. Thank you." As I closed the door, I knew that these young men were going to change Welton and I felt proud to have been the instigator they needed.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths--for you the shores accrowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.