𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐑𝐄, c.d.

𝐭𝐞𝐧

CHAPTER TEN | TO FEEL TALLER
"A man is not very tire, he is exhausted. And don't use very sad, use-" The man suddenly pointed towards the back of the classroom. "Come on, Mr. Overstreet, you twerp."

"Morose?" The older man grinned, snapping his finger at the boy.

"Exactly! Morose. Now, language was developed for one endeavor, and that is? Mr. Anderson? Come on! Are you a man or an amoeba?" Mr. Keating stood before Todd's desk, the boy looking up nervously but saying nothing. Mr. Keating paused for a moment before looking away, asking Neil.

"Uh, to communicate."

"No! To woo women. Today we're going to be talking about William Shakespeare." While all of the boys groaned about the subject, Cove grinned, her eyes widening in excitement. "I know. A lot of you looked forward to this about as much as you look forward to root canal work. We're gonna talk about Shakespeare as someone who writes something very interesting. Now, many of you have seen Shakespeare done very much like this." Mr. Keating held out his right arm dramatically and began to speak in an exaggerated British accent. "O Titus, bring your friend hither." But if any of you have seen Mr. Marlon Brando, you know, Shakespeare can be different. "Friend, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears." You can also imagine, maybe, John Wayne as Macbeth going, "Well, is this a dagger I see before me?" The group laughed at the older man, all of them sitting close to each other in a large group as he sat down on one of the boy's desks.

"Hey, pretty lady." Charlie attempted to sit down in the seat that connected to the desk Cove was sitting on, but she moved away from him before he could. He knew why she was mad at him, he just needed to figure out a way to apologize so she would forgive him.

"Dogs, sir? Oh, not just now. I do enjoy a good dog once in a while, sir. You can have yourself a three-course meal from one dog. Start with your canine crudités, go to your Fido flambe for main course and for dessert, a Pekingese parfait. And you can pick your teeth with a little paw."

.........

"Why do I stand up here? Anybody?" Charlie quickly raised his hand, the teacher pointing to him for an answer, telling the man it was to feel taller. "No!" Mr. Keating suddenly rang the bell on his desk with his foot, making some of the students chuckle. "Thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton. I stand upon my desk to remind yourself that we must constantly look at things in a different way." Mr. Keating glanced around the classroom from atop the desk, taking a deep breath for a moment. "You see, the world looks very different from up here. You don't believe me? Come see for yourself. Come on. Come on!" Charlie, Cove, Knox, and Neil quickly rise from their seats to go to the front of the classroom as the rest of the class followed them. While Mr. Keating continued speaking, Neil and Charlie join him on the desk before Keating jumped down. "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." The two boys jump down as Knox and Cove step up, looking around the room before Knox decided to jump down. Cove looked at her brother as Charlie stepped towards the desk, offering her his hand to step down.

"Cove." The brunette girl doesn't hesitate before taking her brothers hand, letting him help her down before walking to her seat. Knox slowly turned to Charlie, softly patting his arm. "She'll be over it by the end of the day. She was just a bit uncomfortable at the meeting is all." Charlie nodded his head in understanding as the rest of the boys jump off the desk.

"Boys, you must strive to find your own voice. Because 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!" Mr. Keating noticed Spaz and another boy leaving the desk immediately. "Don't just walk off the edge like lemmings. Look around you." The school bell rang as the boys continue to climb onto the desk. Mr. Keating began to gather up his stuff. "There! There you go, Mr. Priske. Thank you! Yes! Dare to strike out and find new ground. Now, in addition to your essays, I would like you to compose a poem of your own, an original work." The students begin to groan as Mr. Keating began to flicker the light off and on while chanting ominously. "That's right! You have to deliver it aloud in front of the class on Monday. Bonne chance, gentlemen. Ms. Overstreet."