September 15, 2004
Why Do I stand On my Desk?
Tears Will Fall, My Journal
Why does it seem that everything that happens in this class reminds me of Dead Poets Society?  I've written something about it on two of my three last journal entries.  Here it is again.  What work makes me cry?  Dead Poets Society.  The above scene gets me everytime I watch that show.  In this scene, Mr. Keating has just been relieved of his duties, the headmaster of the school has taken over teaching the class and is teaching these students exactly what Keating had told them to beware of; Conformity, taking a work of art and sandblasting it down to nothing more than mathmatics and science ( though beautiful and surprisingly similar to any medium of art (i.e. literature, painting, etc) forcing art into the boundaries that math and science must have can utterly destroy the mysticism the art invokes in the reader and writer).  Keating has walked into the classroom mid-lecture to "collect his personals" and on his way out, the most shy and deepest thinking of his students (Todd Anderson, see right) dares to get up and stand on his desk in salute to Keating and in protest of his dismissal.   The loyal students of his class, those who understood his message, catch on and follow suit.  No words are spoken, the background music is the only noise.  Boom, that's it for composure, where's the tissue? 
  In all actuality it doesn't take much for literature to make me cry be it popular, poetic, or otherwise.  What it takes is for the author to make feel what he/she felt, to make a character more real to me than most of the 'real' people I'm aquainted with.  I could write about other stories, but it comes down to what makes you feel, period.  Any piece of writing or film that can bump me out of Blake's flat line (and yes Keats knows about that too) is a hero to me.  Too often are we desensitized by the everyday occurances of life.  Anymore it takes something either absolutly fabulous or phenominally devistating to let us remember what it's like to feel.  And to feel is to to be alive.  It's what makes the experience of life worth living.
 
Keating:
Why do I stand up here?

Mr.Dawson:
To feel taller.

Keating:
No. [ding] Thank you for playing. I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way. See, the world looks very different from up here. You don't believe me? Come see for yourselves. Come on. Just when you think you know something, you have to look at in 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. 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 in quiet desperation. Don't be resigned by that. Break out. Don't walk just off the edge like lemmings. Look around you. 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.

Class:
Ooh!

Keating:
Oef! La-ha-ha-ha-hum! That's right. You have to deliver it aloud, in front of the class on Monday.

Keating:
Ooh! Bon chance, gentleman. Mr. Anderson! Don't think that I don't know that this assignment scares the hell out of you, you mole.
Why do I stand up here?
Mr. Anderson!  Don't think that I don't know that this assignment scares the hell out of you, you mole.
Thank you boys.
~4~
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