Disclaimer: Ummm, last time I checked I didn't own Dead Poets Society so
I'm betting I still don't now, even though I wouldn't mind it one bit.
Author's Note: I really hope I can do the movie justice. For now I'm going to stick to Keating's time at Welton and every once and a while, I may put in some of the DPS time period in there but I'm not sure yet. Hope ya'all like it. Oh! Please go to the category suggestion e-mail and suggest a whole category for our wonderful DPS ( thanks!
******************
Dead Poets Society: The First Edition
"You know what I hate most about this place?"
"You mean, other than the lack of dames?"
"It's deeper than that you horndog. Freethinking-we don't get to do it."
"Freewhat? What is this thinking business you speak of?"
"Exactly."
*****************************
And that's exactly how five teenage boys came up with The Dead Poets Society. Their school, Welton Academy, is the most sufficient preparatory school in the United States. Just ask Mr. Nolan, the new Headmaster. It's his first year and already it seems as if he's been ahead of the school since it was established. Even though Welton was the most sufficient preparatory school in the U.S. it didn't prepare the boys for what was really important-life. In fact, it taught them not to live; to just go, day- by-day, to "succeed" and then to die. That wasn't living. Not all of them were going to just take it sitting down, either.
"Ow! Stupid twig. Where are we going, Keat?"
The five sixteen-year-old boys, all cloaked in their uniform black jackets with hoods, were traipsing through the woods located near their school. John Keating was at least five yards in front of the rest of his friends who weren't exactly looking at this like it was an adventure which was running through John's mind. He didn't even turn back as he practically shouted the answer.
"To our new home!"
Maxwell Deleniko turned to his buddy, Leonardo Layton, who was right beside him.
"Hey Leo, think the cheese slipped off ol' Keat's cracker over break?"
Leo grinned. "Man, I know so. Do you have any idea where we're going?"
Timothy Sites caught up to the two and joined in on the conversation.
"Hell, I don't think even Keats knows where we're going. I bet he's just going to lead us into the middle of the woods and leave us here."
"Nah. He wouldn't do that." Leo disagreed.
"Actually, I would!" Keats said, turning around and stopping in his tracks. "But not tonight. Tonight I've got something else planned guys."
That's when Maxwell noticed it. He began to look around.
"Hey, where's James?"
James Buchman was Keats' best friend. They were all a close group of friends and had been since their eighth year at Welton. But Keats and James had gotten to know each other a year before then and had always been a bit closer. Certainly, Keats wouldn't have left out his buddy on this...would he?
"In here."
Keats stepped aside to reveal a cave entrance, and then he crouched down and walked in.
Tim turned to Leo and Max, "He's gonna lure us in there and kill us."
Leo and Max laughed and then Max said, "Well, I for one have got to know what Keats is cooking up. It's gotta be good if he's risking our expulsion as well as his." And then he entered the cave.
Leo put his hand on Tim's shoulder and said, "Sorry bud...I'm with them." And followed Max into the cave.
Tim shook his head and followed suit, as was expected of him.
Inside the cave it was dark and damp. James and Keats were sitting side by side on two small wooden stools. Max had chosen a place where stone came out from the wall like a bench and Leo was across from him on an upside down waste basket. Tim smacked his head on the stone above.
"Ah!"
The guys laughed as Tim held his forehead and sat down on another upside down wastebasket close to the opening.
"Okay Keats, what's all this about?" Leo asked as he unbuttoned his jacket.
James pulled a large black book out of his army green knapsack and held it up for all to see. It was slightly hard since it was dark, but Keats shined his flashlight on it and Max could barely make out the words "Five Centuries of Verse" inside a horseshoe shaped pattern.
"A stupid lit. book?" Max asked. "You hauled our asses out of bed, led us out of the school, breaking about fifty rules, made us walk through the woods, take us into an old cave just so we can see some lit. book?"
Keats grabbed his heart and James spoke for the first time that night.
"You insult us! This isn't 'some lit. book'! This is a book of poems that are to inspire us! Make us our own people! When we're here we don't have to sit when we're told to sit, talk, when we're told to speak. Hell, we don't have to ask permission to pee, we can just do it in that hole over there! We are gods here, gentlemen!"
"About the peeing thing," Leo said. "Could you guys please hold it?"
"You're not getting it, Leo." Keating said, shaking his head. "What James here is saying, is that we're going to live life how it was meant to be lived-our own way! I refuse to be a banker, like my dad told me I am. I won't do it. I don't want to do that. We're taught everything here except for how to think for ourselves. That is what this is for."
Once again, he held up the book. When he spoke, he looked every one of his friends in the eye. They weren't laughing because this was no laughing matter. They really didn't get to think for their selves, did they? They had always done exactly what had been expected of them, even if they didn't want to. They really weren't happy.
Knowing that he had gotten to them all, Keats opened the large book to the front page where he had written something in and stood up. With his right hand he held the book and with his left, the flashlight. Then he spoke.
" 'I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately/I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life/to put to rout all that was not life/And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.' Henry David Thoreau."
When Keats looked up he knew that he had really struck a cord with all of them this time. He knew that he had chosen the right group of people to be in the society. He knew they would understand, once it was all explained. He knew he wouldn't be alone in the Dead Poets Society.
Author's Note: I really hope I can do the movie justice. For now I'm going to stick to Keating's time at Welton and every once and a while, I may put in some of the DPS time period in there but I'm not sure yet. Hope ya'all like it. Oh! Please go to the category suggestion e-mail and suggest a whole category for our wonderful DPS ( thanks!
******************
Dead Poets Society: The First Edition
"You know what I hate most about this place?"
"You mean, other than the lack of dames?"
"It's deeper than that you horndog. Freethinking-we don't get to do it."
"Freewhat? What is this thinking business you speak of?"
"Exactly."
*****************************
And that's exactly how five teenage boys came up with The Dead Poets Society. Their school, Welton Academy, is the most sufficient preparatory school in the United States. Just ask Mr. Nolan, the new Headmaster. It's his first year and already it seems as if he's been ahead of the school since it was established. Even though Welton was the most sufficient preparatory school in the U.S. it didn't prepare the boys for what was really important-life. In fact, it taught them not to live; to just go, day- by-day, to "succeed" and then to die. That wasn't living. Not all of them were going to just take it sitting down, either.
"Ow! Stupid twig. Where are we going, Keat?"
The five sixteen-year-old boys, all cloaked in their uniform black jackets with hoods, were traipsing through the woods located near their school. John Keating was at least five yards in front of the rest of his friends who weren't exactly looking at this like it was an adventure which was running through John's mind. He didn't even turn back as he practically shouted the answer.
"To our new home!"
Maxwell Deleniko turned to his buddy, Leonardo Layton, who was right beside him.
"Hey Leo, think the cheese slipped off ol' Keat's cracker over break?"
Leo grinned. "Man, I know so. Do you have any idea where we're going?"
Timothy Sites caught up to the two and joined in on the conversation.
"Hell, I don't think even Keats knows where we're going. I bet he's just going to lead us into the middle of the woods and leave us here."
"Nah. He wouldn't do that." Leo disagreed.
"Actually, I would!" Keats said, turning around and stopping in his tracks. "But not tonight. Tonight I've got something else planned guys."
That's when Maxwell noticed it. He began to look around.
"Hey, where's James?"
James Buchman was Keats' best friend. They were all a close group of friends and had been since their eighth year at Welton. But Keats and James had gotten to know each other a year before then and had always been a bit closer. Certainly, Keats wouldn't have left out his buddy on this...would he?
"In here."
Keats stepped aside to reveal a cave entrance, and then he crouched down and walked in.
Tim turned to Leo and Max, "He's gonna lure us in there and kill us."
Leo and Max laughed and then Max said, "Well, I for one have got to know what Keats is cooking up. It's gotta be good if he's risking our expulsion as well as his." And then he entered the cave.
Leo put his hand on Tim's shoulder and said, "Sorry bud...I'm with them." And followed Max into the cave.
Tim shook his head and followed suit, as was expected of him.
Inside the cave it was dark and damp. James and Keats were sitting side by side on two small wooden stools. Max had chosen a place where stone came out from the wall like a bench and Leo was across from him on an upside down waste basket. Tim smacked his head on the stone above.
"Ah!"
The guys laughed as Tim held his forehead and sat down on another upside down wastebasket close to the opening.
"Okay Keats, what's all this about?" Leo asked as he unbuttoned his jacket.
James pulled a large black book out of his army green knapsack and held it up for all to see. It was slightly hard since it was dark, but Keats shined his flashlight on it and Max could barely make out the words "Five Centuries of Verse" inside a horseshoe shaped pattern.
"A stupid lit. book?" Max asked. "You hauled our asses out of bed, led us out of the school, breaking about fifty rules, made us walk through the woods, take us into an old cave just so we can see some lit. book?"
Keats grabbed his heart and James spoke for the first time that night.
"You insult us! This isn't 'some lit. book'! This is a book of poems that are to inspire us! Make us our own people! When we're here we don't have to sit when we're told to sit, talk, when we're told to speak. Hell, we don't have to ask permission to pee, we can just do it in that hole over there! We are gods here, gentlemen!"
"About the peeing thing," Leo said. "Could you guys please hold it?"
"You're not getting it, Leo." Keating said, shaking his head. "What James here is saying, is that we're going to live life how it was meant to be lived-our own way! I refuse to be a banker, like my dad told me I am. I won't do it. I don't want to do that. We're taught everything here except for how to think for ourselves. That is what this is for."
Once again, he held up the book. When he spoke, he looked every one of his friends in the eye. They weren't laughing because this was no laughing matter. They really didn't get to think for their selves, did they? They had always done exactly what had been expected of them, even if they didn't want to. They really weren't happy.
Knowing that he had gotten to them all, Keats opened the large book to the front page where he had written something in and stood up. With his right hand he held the book and with his left, the flashlight. Then he spoke.
" 'I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately/I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life/to put to rout all that was not life/And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.' Henry David Thoreau."
When Keats looked up he knew that he had really struck a cord with all of them this time. He knew that he had chosen the right group of people to be in the society. He knew they would understand, once it was all explained. He knew he wouldn't be alone in the Dead Poets Society.