where all the poets went to die [dead poets society]

8 - bravo! brava!

"Why do I stand up here? Anybody?" Keating asked the class that morning after leaping up onto his desk.

"To feel taller," Charlie crowed from the back.

"No!" Keating tapped the bell on his desk with his shoe. "But thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton. I stand upon my desk to remind you that we must constantly look at things in a different way."

"You see, the world looks very different from up here. You don't believe me? Come see for yourself. Come on. Come on!"

Charlie and Neil quickly rose from their seats to go to the front of the classroom - always the two most eager of Keating's students to participate in his antics. The rest of the class followed and while Keating continued his lesson and Neil and Charlie joined him on the desk.

Maria stretched her neck to look up at both boys and smiled at them when they grinned down and wiggled their brows at her playfully.

And then 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."

Neil and then Charlie made a spectacle of jumping down after him, bowing dramatically when they stuck their landings.

"Boys and girl, 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," he looked pointedly at Todd and Maria who stood somewhere near the end of the line. "Thoreau said, 'Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.' Don't be resigned to that. Break out!"

Other boys followed suit, stepping onto the desk and stepping down.

"Don't just walk off the edge like lemmings. Look around you," Keating said after Spaz and another boy jumped off the desk immediately after stepping onto it. He nodded at the next few students when they took their time to survey the room. "There! Dare to strike out and find new ground."

It was soon Maria's turn to step on the desk. She mentally thanked herself for deciding to go with pants today and forego her usual choice of skirts and let out a quick breath as she looked around the room from her new height. The desk wasn't awfully tall and standing on it didn't exactly give the best vantage point, but still, it was different - it was a new perspective. The desks looked so much smaller from where she stood, the notes on her desk completely illegible. She quirked her head to the side, holding in a giggle, when she saw Knox waving up at her.

"What do you feel up there, Maria?" Keating asked her.

She looked over at her uncle. "Like I should be reciting Romeo and Juliet," she said.

"Well, please do us the pleasure," Keating urged.

Maria rolled her eyes but she was feeling something deep within. Something unexplainable - something that filled her with jittery energy and something that felt inherently like her father. Perhaps she had really taken to heart the things she had read from him. She jested dramatically, placing a hand on her chest:

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name;

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet."

Keating and her friends applauded her quickly and she giggled, feeling giddy. This felt fun - this felt so much fun.

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"