Chapter Three - The powerful play goes on

Kathleen settled down in one of the common room armchairs and opened her book, Charles Dickens 'A Tale of two Cities'. It was a quiet autumn evening. Knox was away at a dinner with the Danbury family, some of his Fathers friends. Meeks and Pitts were building a radio and the other boys were doing homework, playing darts or chatting. The days were passing quickly at Welton, she had her core group of friends and she had begun to form an attachment. She would miss the boys when she left, but at the same time she missed her own friends from school.

"I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." Her heart ached as she read the words, Charles Dickens was without doubt one of her favourite authors, even if Cameron turned up his nose every time she quoted his work. Cameron didn't read anything fictional, he didn't do anything for fun.

"How was dinner?" Kathleen looked up at the question and saw Knox leaning back against the door.

"Huh?" Knox asked in a daze.

"How was dinner?" Charlie repeated.

"Terrible."

Kathleen closed her book and pulled up a chair at the table, "why, what happened?" she asked.

"Tonight" he sighed, sinking down into a chair, "I met the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen in my entire life."

"Are you crazy? What's wrong with that?" Neil cried, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"Because she's practically engaged, to Chet Danbury."

"To bad" Pitts mumbled.

"That guy could eat a football!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Who is Chet Danbury?" Kathleen asked.

"Football player at the local high school, the walking stereotype of a jock" Neil explained, "he used to come here but he flunked out."

"Too bad" Pitts said sympathetically.

"It's worse than to bad Pitts. It's a tragedy. A girl this beautiful in love with such a jerk!"

"All the good one's go for the jerks" Pitts said bitterly.

"Unfair!" interrupted Kathleen, "as long as someone isn't an abusive ass, it's none of our business who any person chooses to date."

"Sorry" Pitts mumbled.

"Forget her" Cameron broke in, "open your trig book and try to figure out problem five."

"I can't just forget her Cameron!" he exclaimed "and I certainly can't think about trig."

"I hate to say it, but maybe he's right. The chances of seeing her again are slim and, like you said she already has a boyfriend" Kathleen said apologetically.

Suddenly the radio which Meeks and Pitts had been working on sprung to life, saving Knox from the conversation.

"WE GOT IT!"

"All right gentlemen, five minutes" came the voice of Hager as he opened the door of the senior's common room.

Instantaneously, the pair stopped celebrating and swept the radio under the table.

"Let's go!" the supervisor called, giving Kathleen a pointed look.

She rose from the chair and picked up her book.

"Did you see her naked?" Charlie asked Knox on his way out of the room. Kathleen swatted him lightly with her book.

"What did I say?"

"You know what you said, Dalton."

Kathleen said goodbye to the boys and they left Meeks and Pitts trying to convince the teacher that they really did have a science experiment.

XXXX

"Come on, we're going to be late to English!" Kathleen tugged at Todd's arm, half dragging him down the corridor.

"You were the one who insisted on checking the post!" he laughed, quickening his pace slightly.

"Nancy said she would write. I can't see her until I know she's arrived at her aunts" she whined.

"I can't believe that her aunt lives in town. It's so lucky."

"What can I say, I'm a lucky person!"

They rounded the corner and rushed into English with apologies for their tardiness. They got to their desks and took out their books.

"Thank you for joining us, Mr Anderson and Miss Murray. Now Mr Perry, would you read to us the first paragraph of the preface titled 'understanding poetry', please."

"Understanding poetry" read Neil, pushing up his reading glasses, "by J. Evans Pritchard PHD. To fully understand poetry, we must be fluent with its metre and rhyme and figure of speech. Then ask two questions. One, how artfully have the objectives of the poem been rendered? Two, how important are those objectives? Question one rates the poems perfection. Two rates its importance. Once these two questions have been answered, determining the poems greatness is a relatively simple matter. If a poems score for perfection is plotted on the horizontal of the graph…"

Kathleen, like many others began taking notes as Mr Keating drew the graph on the blackboard.

"And its importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness." Neil continued to read, "A sonnet by Byron might score high on the vertical but only average on the horizontal. A Shakespearean sonnet on the other hand might score high both horizontally and vertically. Yielding a massive total area. Thereby revealing the poem to be truly great. As you proceed through the poetry in this book, practice this rating method as your ability to evaluate poems in this manner grows, so will your enjoyment and understanding of poetry."

"Excrement" said Mr Keating. "That's what I think of Mr J. Evans Pritchard. We're not laying pipe, we're talking about poetry" he announced, "how can you describe poetry like American bandstand. Oh, I like Byron. I give him a forty-two but I can't dance to him."

Kathleen screwed up her notes page.

"Now" Mr Keating said, "I want you to rip out that page." When he was met with blank looks he pushed, "go on, rip out the entire page. You heard me, rip it out."

A loud tearing noise came from the back. Kathleen turned to see Charlie holding up the page with a smirk.

"Thank you, Mr Dalton!" Mr Keating called over the disbelieving laughter, "Tell you what. Don't just rip out that page. Rip out the entire introduction. I want it gone, history, leave nothing of it."

Sounds of ripping began to appear from various directions, Kathleen began ripping out the pages of the introduction.

"BE GONE J EVANS PRITCHARD PHD!" bellowed Mr Keating, " RIP, RIP, RIP IT OUT. I WANT TO HEAR NOTHING BUT RIPPING OF MR PRITCHARD" and then he caught the distress on Cameron's face and reassured him, "It's not the bible. You won't go to hell for this" before disappearing into the cupboard.

"We shouldn't be doing this" Cameron complained.

"Rip" Neil replied, ignoring Cameron's concerns.

It soon escalated into a paper fight. Screwed up notes and introduction pages flew through the air. Kathleen felt something hit her shoulder, she turned to see Charlie grinning as he threw another ball of paper at her.

"It's on!" she laughed as she chucked her own pages at him, one hit him in the chest and she threw the other at Pitts.

Their Latin teacher stormed in the same moment that Kathleen's eyes landed on Charlie's drawing, he only laughed when he saw the wide-eyed look on her face.

"WHAT HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" he demanded.

Charlie ripped the page out of his notebook and popped it into his mouth before the teacher had a chance to see it, causing Kathleen to choke down her laughter.

"I don't hear enough rip!" called Mr Keating as he returned from the cupboard with a trashcan.

"Mr Keating" the teacher's eyebrows rose, "I didn't know you were here."

"I am."

"Ah, so you are, excuse me," he hurriedly left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Keep ripping lady and gentlemen. This is a war, and the casualties could be your hearts and souls" he carried the trashcan around for everybody to dispose of the paper. "Armies of academics, measuring poetry" he mocked, "NO, we will not have that here. Now in my class you will learn to think for yourselves again. You will learn to savour words and language. No matter what anybody tells you. Words and ideas can change the world."

Mr Keating strode down the centre of the classroom, looking around at each student, "I see the look in Mr Pitts eye, that 19th century literature has nothing to do with going to business school or medical school. Right? Maybe. Mr Hopkins, you might agree with him, you may think that we should simply study our Mr Pritchard and learn our rhyme and meter and go quietly about the business of achieving other ambitions. Now huddle up."

Kathleen and the others the far row came forward to sit on top of the desks of others, she joined Todd and Charlie by Neil's desk.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race and the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law and business aren't generic, these are noble pursuits that sustain life but poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. And to quote from Whitman;

'Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd 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. What will your verse be?"

The moment that the students left the classroom, it was like a trance had been broken, except everything seemed brighter, louder, more important. They headed to lunch talking about how mad and fantastic Mr Keating was.

Just after prayer, Neil pulled out an old red book, "hey, I found his senior annual in the library."

"Let me look at that!" Cameron took the book from Neil.

"Captain of the soccer team, editor of the school annual, Cambridge bound, thigh man and member of the dead poets society" Neil listed as he dug into his lunch.

"Man most likely to do anything" read Cameron in amazement.

"Thigh man? Mr K was a hell raiser!" applauded Charlie.

"What's the dead poets society?" asked Kathleen.

"I don't know, no other mention of it" Neil replied.

"Why don't you ask" Cameron said closing the book.

XXXX

After they had finished eating, the gang decided to track down Mr Keating before the end of lunch. They followed him out onto the school grounds where he was walking and whistling. An odd habit they had learnt to expect.

"Sir!" called Neil but there was no response, "O'Captain, my captain?" he tried.

Mr Keating stopped and turned immediately. Kathleen shook her head in amusement.

"We were just looking in your old annual," Neil explained handing the red book over.

"No, that's not me" Mr Keating laughed nostalgically at the pages of the worn book.

"We were just wondering," Kathleen asked stepping forward, "What is the dead poets society?"

"I doubt the present administration would look favourably upon that" he said, "especially your grandfather. It's probably best not to mention it to him."

Kathleen nodded solemnly.

"Why?" questioned Neil, "what was it?"

Mr Keating studied the teens for a minute, "can you keep a secret?"

"Yes" the group nodded, kneeling down next to their English teacher in anticipation.

"The Dead Poets" he began, "were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life. That's a phrase by Thoreau that we would invoke at the beginning of every meeting. We would gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley, the biggies" he smiled. "Even some of our own verse. In the enchantment of the moment we let poetry work magic."

Knox frowned, "You mean it was just a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry."

"No, Mr Overstreet" Keating shook his head, "It wasn't just guys. We weren't a Greek organisation" he winked at Kathleen who smiled in return, "we were romantics!" he implored, "We didn't just read poetry, we let it drip from out tongues like honey. Spirits soared, woman swooned and Gods were created gentleman. Not a bad way to spend an evening, eh?"

He looked at the captivated students and handed back the annual, "Thank you Mr Perry for this stroll down amnesia lane. Burn that, especially my picture." And with that the Captain went on his way, towards the lake.

The school bell sounded but not one of the students moved.

"I say we go tonight" declared Neil.

"Tonight?" repeated Charlie.

"Wait a minute" Cameron protested.

"Everybody in?" Neil ploughed on, ignoring the mutterings of disagreement.

"sounds good" Kathleen said. Neil nodded.

"Where is this cave?" asked Pitts.

"I know where it is, it's beyond the stream" Neil replied.

"Sounds boring to me" Cameron huffed heading to class.

"Don't go then" Charlie said, nodding at Neil and Kathleen.

Three in.

"Do you know how many de-merits we're talking Dalton?"

"So, don't come, please."

"All I'm saying is that we have to be careful. We can't get caught."

"Nobody's planning to, Cameron" Kathleen called over her shoulder.

"No shit, Sherlock" Charlie said to Cameron, glancing at Kathleen in exasperation.

"YOU THERE, HURRY UP" bellowed Mr Hager from the steps.

"Alright", Neil spoke quickly, "who's in?"

"Oh, come on Neil, Hager-"

"Forget Hager, Cameron!"

"I'm in" Charlie shrugged.

"Me to" Kathleen added.

"I'M WARNING YOU" yelled Hager.

Cameron sighed, "me to."

"I don't know, Neil" Pitts began walking again.

"What, Pitts?" Neil followed him.

"Come on!" Charlie encouraged the others.

"Even Cameron is coming" Kathleen said, hurrying along.

"His grades are hurting" Meeks called.

"We can help him, Meeks" Neil responded.

"What is this? A midnight study group" he snapped.

"Pitts, you're coming" Neil concluded, "Meeks? Are your grades hurting to?"

"I'll try anything once" Meeks jogged after them.

"Except sex!" hollered Charlie, "What about you, Knox?"

"I don't know Charlie..."he hesitated.

Charlie put his hands on his shoulders, "It'll help you get Chris."

"Yeah? How?"

"Woman swoon?" he chuckled, running off to class.

"WHY? why do they swoon? Kathleen, you're female! "Knox called after the group, running to supervised study.

XXXX

Charlie somehow managed to procure a map of the area, they were gathered around his table trying to find the location of the cave as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, they hadn't succeeded.

"For God sake, stop chattering and sit down" the teacher reprimanded the group for a third time. Reluctantly, Kathleen and Neil trudged back to their table where Todd was waiting, leaving Charlie and Cameron to argue about the dangers with Knox as a referee, and Meeks to help Pitts with his homework alone.

"Hey Todd, are you coming along to?" asked Kathleen as they took their seats either side of the boy.

"No" Todd shook his head.

"Why not?" Neil whispered, "you heard Keating, you were there. Don't you want to do something like that?"

"Yes, but-but"

"But what, honey?" Kathleen said softly.

"Keating said that everybody took turns reading and I-" he shrugged, looking down, "I don't want to do that."

Neil and Kathleen exchanged a look of concern behind Todd's tense shoulders.

"Gosh" Neil breathed, "you really have a problem with that."

"No-no, I" Todd took a deep breath, "I just don't want to do it, that's all. Okay?"

"Alright" he said.

"Kat?" Todd looked at Kathleen pleadingly.

"You don't have to read anything out loud, but please come" she bit her lip.

"She's right. You don't have to read, you can just listen."

"But that's not how it works" Todd objected.

"Forget how it works!" Neil smiled, "what if they said it was okay?"

"What? are you going to go up and ask them if-" Todd trailed off, realising that Neil would do exactly that.

"I'll be right back" Neil darted away right on que.

"It'll be fine. You don't have to do anything you don't want to" Kathleen said, "but you're our friend Todd, we want you there with us."

The shy boy gave her a small smile, "I guess I'll see tonight then."

Kathleen smiled brightly, " I guess you will."