unscripted | dead poets society ✓

01 | blessed by sunlight

     THE MOMENT PRESLEY STEPPED FOOT in Welton Academy she knew she was going to hate this place. It was infested with all species of prepubescent and hormonal monstrosities and she hated the idea of spending how many months teaching them.

     Of course, she scolded Mr. Keating.

     "Captain, why didn't you tell me about this?! Why? Why? Why?" Mr. Keating only laughed at her as she hit his shoulder. It stung a little, but the expression on her face seemed just too amusing for him to mind the dull pain.

     "I knew you would back out! That's why I didn't tell you!" Mr. Keating had a look of amusement on his face, which only infuriated Presley all the more. She shoots him a glare, huffing before turning to look at the excrescence of a building that stood before them.

     "Well, that's just great." Presley says, sarcasm lacing her words. "I'm thousands of miles away from home and I guess I'll just teleport, that'd be rich." Mr. Keating only chuckles at her sardonic retort as a response.

     Presley didn't like it when they stood outside the Academy. And all the more when they sat down in the hall to attend the opening ceremony for the semester. She never noticed the students and parents enter the hall, she never even noticed the ceremony had started, for her nose was buried deep into The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

     As the ceremony started, she paid no mind whatsoever as a number of male species paraded to the front carrying banners, and she paid no mind to them when they stood in front of her. As much as she was tempted to look up, she couldn't just stop reading about how Dimmesdale's guilt ate his conscience up.

     "One hundred years ago, in 1859, 41 boys sat in this room and were asked the same question that greets you at the start of each semester." Mr. Nolan starts. Although Presley wasn't looking up at him, she guessed that his opening speech would most probably be identical to the ones he used before. "Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?"

     "Tradition. Honor. Discipline. Excellence." Upon hearing those words, Presley snorted, causing Mr. Keating to glance at her with an eyebrow raised as if to question her. The girl paid no mind to him, although she saw him in her peripheral vision.

     "In her first year, Welton Academy graduated five students," Mr. Nolan continues. "Last year, we graduated fifty one, and more than 75% went on to the Ivy League." The room burst into applause upon hearing this achievement, and Presley couldn't help but roll her eyes.

     "This — This kind of accomplishment is the result of fervent dedication to the principles taught here. This is why you parents have been sending us your sons. This is why we are the best preparatory school in the United States." Another round of applause echoed throughout the hall.

     Mr. Nolan had a satisfied smile on his face upon seeing the enthusiasm his audience had. He was proud of his hard work, and proud of what the Academy had achieved throughout the century. "As you know," He continues. "Our beloved Mr. Portius of the English Department retired last term." And here goes, Presley thought to herself. "You will have the opportunity later to meet his replacements, Mr. John Keating, together with his teaching assistant, Ms. Presley Ross." At this, all heads turned towards the pair as they stood up for recognition. Unlike Mr. Keating, though, Presley reluctantly stood up without removing her eyes from her book.

     "Mr. Keating himself is an honors graduate of this school, and who, for the past several years, has been teaching at the highly regarded Chester School in London. While Ms. Ross is the youngest graduate in history with a degree in Medicine, and a degree in English Literature, impressive as it is." Upon hearing her short introduction, Presley was forced to look down from her book to scan the crowd for two seconds, much to her dismay.