A Lesson Learned
Author's Note: This was a creative writing assignment I used in my High School Intro to Film Studies class. I like it well enough, and didn't want to let it go to waste. I'm very lucky to have had my Beta Mercury Gray edit this and add extremely helpful suggestions. So half your kudos go to her who polished this up and went above and beyond in her Beta-ing. Please, feel free to read and review.
Disclaimer: Much as I would love to own RSL and the rest of the Welton boys I don't.
I walked through the snowy night with my coat wrapped around me. It had been so long since I've come back here, I'd almost forgotten how cold New England could get, how snowy…
It was snowing the night Neil died—no, it had been snowing the night Neil killed himself. His father's grief at Neil's funeral had finally thrust that idea out of my head. Not that I ever actually believed his father killed him, but when the brain experiences something horrific- like the news of a beloved friend's suicide, its natural defense is to cling to something easier to deal with- for example your best friend's dad killed his son because he couldn't control him, as opposed to dealing with the issue that your best friend was mentally unbalanced at the time and weaker than you thought. That this boy who seemed so together was actually hurting more than you were. Denial- the first stage of grief.
I shook the thoughts that never sat too far away from the front of my mind and bundled my jacket a little closer, picking up my pace on this dark night, distracting myself from my thoughts by allowing my visible cloud of breath to consume my every waking thought- however superficially.
I left Welton within a few weeks of Neil's death. Not that I minded, of course, I was more than eager to leave this place, which was once again lifeless without Neil or Mr. Keating. My parents had never had time for me, but they played the part of concerned parents well, and at the news of Neil's death- no, Neil's suicide – I was extracted from the school. This was of course of no consequence, for I would have been expelled anyway for my "stunt" the day of Mr. Keating's departure.
The new school was, of course, no different, but merely a new name, and new colors on the uniforms worn by the same people—different names, but essentially the same people: Charlies, Camerons, Knoxes. Except there was no new Neil and there was no new Mr. Keating. Not that I expected there to be.
John Keating had shaken the school like a drop of rain in a pond. The calm familiarity was destroyed and ripples were sent throughout the pond to the very outer edges. Although the water as a whole would settle eventually, everything had shifted and each individual water molecule would now rest in a new place, never moving back to where they once lay. But just when the entire pond was disappearing back into familiarity, Mr. Keating's departure was another drop in the pond.
With a final shake of my head I found myself back at the place that I held with more contempt than could be thought possible.
I entered the place that had always remained intimidating for long after I had left it. Now, however, it was different. I had different fears, but in a new manner. This time it was not the prospect of meeting new people, having to converge into their daily lives, but rather walking in the proximity of a place that held so many ghosts for me. I breathed a sigh as I arrived at my destination.
The name on the door had changed since the last time, but this new man still represented everything our old headmaster did. I knocked briskly.
"Come in, Mr. Anderson," a voice called from inside.
"Hello," I said as I entered. "Now let's not play games and waste time on niceties. We're busy men, so I suggest you say what you intend to and we call it a day."
"I must say, I like a man who can cut to the chase," he chuckled aloud. "Now then Mr.…Anderson, isn't it?" he asked. It wasn't a question he waited for an answer from before continuing in the same monotone, authoritative way I had grown accustomed to, but it made me inwardly cringe nonetheless. "Well, as you know, here at Welton we pride ourselves on being a fine learning institution that offers the best education in New England for our students. If you wish to hold the position as our school's English professor, you must uphold the standards expected from our establishment."
I nodded dutifully, a mere pleasantry which, although morally degrading, gave this new headmaster the coveted feelings of power and control he got off on.
"If you understand the aforementioned procedures you are expected to follow, Mr. Anderson, the position is yours, and we are done here.".
"Thank you, Sir."
"Anything for a Welton alum," he said with a wink.
I inwardly recoiled and with a handshake left to gather my bag. I had only a single bag I lived my life from, for I did not expect to be welcome at Welton for long- just long enough to provide my services as an educator to these young men who needed it most of all. Young men exactly like I was before Mr. Keating left his print upon me, men whose single "creative" thoughts came like a cookie cutter from the textbooks. Great at regurgitating the thoughts of others, but once stripped of another's words, left thoughtless. Hopefully I could teach just one pupil what Mr. Keating taught me in what was sure to be my short stay here…
The staff dined at the head table, which was exactly where I left it. As I searched for what was sure to be the only empty chair I met eyes with the last person I expected to see: Richard!
My eyes bulged. Richard worked here! I hadn't seen him since the day after Mr. Keating left, which was my last day at Welton. I had not been prepared to see him here, but no matter, he would further the importance of my lesson to these kids- just another current to swim against.
I held my gaze steadily at him as I approached my new seat at the dining table. He looked scared at the sight of me, as if I were a ghost come to dredge up the secrets of his past. Not that he had any secrets a ghost would haunt him over – Richard Cameron had never been one for life in the fast lane.
"Hello, Richard," I said warmly. "Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Hello, Todd," he said quickly composing himself in a surprisingly stiff manner. So much like everyone else here. "I'm afraid this is the English professor's seat," he said, his hand protectively on the chair back to his left- the only one empty at the head table.
"Well, then, it's lucky that I'm the new English teacher," I countered in the same amused manner.
"Oh, yes. Lucky indeed," he agreed weakly.
I sat down and he put his head down, his complete attention on the intriguing china patterns of his plate, and leaving me to my thoughts of my latest encounter with Mr. Keating.
"Todd, my boy, what a surprise!"
"Sir, I've been waiting for this trip for a long time. You're hardly an easy man to track down, Mr. Keating- er… Captain."
"Well, I'm certainly glad you succeeded, Todd."
"Captain, I never really got to thank you for your lesson,".
"Todd, your little erm- stunt was thanks enough, and seeing you now as a man, intelligent, outspoken, and dignified, such a change from the day I met you, well, I can't think of anything that could make me happier. So tell me, son, where does a man newly graduated from prep school now go in life?"
"I've been accepted into Harvard, sir- or Captain. They told me that my applications essay was the best they've had in many years, and that alone secured my spot at their University."
"When I first met you, you never would have been able to get through that with your head up and without blushing, son. What is our intended major?"
"I want to become an English professor, Captain- a Secondary school teacher. Like you, Captain. Because of you,"
"Todd you always manage to surprise me, just when I thought I couldn't be more proud…"
My thoughts came back to the other student of John Keating sitting to my right.
"Richard, what do you teach here?" I asked, trying to convey to him that there were no hard feelings between the two of us.
He looked startled by my question. "Calculus,", he answered, eyes narrowed, as if waiting for a judgmental remark from me.
I should have known Richard never had received Mr. Keating's lessons. It only made sense for him to follow a path of study with no personal creativity, or imagination, or thoughts of the individual.
"You were always a great mathematician, Richard."
"Yes, I am," Cameron asserted. He hadn't changed much since our own days as students here – still obsessed with his image and the perceptions of others.
"Well, I'm sure your students are receiving the best mathematical education in New England." I finished.
"Yes, they are Todd," he said standing up from the table with unhidden hostility. "Because I'm a professional, because I can follow orders, because I'm practical, and because I can teach without needing to be a 'friend' to my students.". He leaned close to my ear and hissed "You don't want to be like him, Todd old boy, look how he ended up. Look where we almost ended up. Look where Neil ended up. No, Todd, this world would be better off without the original him, let alone another one. I mean, it's a good thing Neil killed himself because he would have been another—Keating." His last word was full of disdain as if it were a curse.
I almost laughed aloud. Richard had become just what John Keating had fought against, just what he had been brought down by: conformists. My heart ached at the cookie-cutter man Richard had become, robbed of all independent thought, Richard had stayed the same because he had not learned from Mr. Keating…
"All right, I'll leave you now, Oh Captain, My Captain. Thank you for having me."
"No, thank you, Todd. It was wonderful having someone to discuss literature with, someone with their own ideas and theories. It's always fantastic to see such a wonderful student make something of themselves. You took my lessons to heart, and for that I believe it is I who owes you thanks"
"No, Captain, thank you. Thank you for everything; everyone should have been changed for the better by you."
"You really shouldn't blame Richard, Todd. Some just aren't meant to change."
"He chose not to learn, Captain. But that wasn't enough for him. He had destroy you by telling the Headmaster about the Dead Poet's Society. He had to save himself and purge the school of someone who made us think for ourselves. He rid the school of its only asset left,"I defended passionately.
Keating smiled sadly. "I would have gone down with or without him, Todd, you know that. Besides, I seem to recall someone else signing a form saying everything was my doing,"
"I'm ashamed of who I was back then Captain, but in the end I was different. I learned, I took your lessons to heart. Cameron, he-"
"He chose to conform, Todd, and I'm sure he's quite pleased with his decision. Like I said, Mr. Anderson, the school had it in their heads to dismiss me long before Mr. Cameron informed them of the Society."
"Well, he didn't have to speed up the process or provide anymore fuel!"
"Todd, not everyone will be like us. They can't always be as passionate, or as independently minded as us,"
"Well, if he tried, he could have. If he actually opened his shallow little mind to what you were trying to teach us."
"Listen to me. Learn one more lesson from me before you leave. In life we do not always have the ideal companions. Some of them will be our best friends, some will me mere acquaintances, and others yet will be our mortal enemies. However, without all of them we cannot survive. Do not dismiss your enemies, Todd, do not blame them, do not anger with them. See them only as obstacles to test your strength, learn more about yourself from them, and deal with them in a way that will teach others how to do the same. Pity their lack of uniqueness or whatever it is that sets them so far apart from you in your mind. But do more than simply pity, my dear boy. Do not try and teach them, for people do not change. However, merely embrace them and try not to let others fall to their example. For you see, they have qualities we only wish we could possess and they will pass that on, and someday the world might have passed along all the good qualities of each of us."
"Goodbye Oh Captain, my Captain"
"Good bye Todd, and do try and not blame Mr. Cameron ,"Mr. Keating reminded. "He can't help himself."
"Yes, Captain."
"He'll never learn what I taught Todd,"
"I know, Captain"
"Let it be enough that you did"
"Thank you Captain"
"Come again soon Todd"
I had learned from John Keating. His final lesson made me all the more determined to leave my mark – John Keating's mark- on these students. Even just one boy to save from the uniform, uninventive grasp of me like Richard would be an accomplishment far greater than changing Richard, for he was after all a good man, and would teach the best Calculus lessons in New England to his students, who maybe might learn to be more independent by my example when dealing with other matters requiring creativity.
Fin.Bottom of Form