Diana Bennet, the Welton-famous pessimist has had an interesting time at the prestigious academy she attends. But with a new English teacher and an alter in rivalry things begin to change.
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We all stand in a line, watching as Keating instructs Pitts, Cameron and Knox to walk around in a circle. I place myself next to Neil, exchanging a small smile as we watched what was going on. Keating was a blessing, and even on a bad day the man still managed to raise our spirits and leave us shell-shocked. He was the light and we were the eyes, he allowed us to see.
"No grades at stake, gentlemen. Just take a stroll." Keating says, observing from the end of our line.
The three boys walk around, eventually marching to the same beat.
"There it is." Keating explains, clapping his hand to the beat.
We all do the same, clapping to the rhythm of their walk.
"I don't know, but I've been told--" Keating says, gesturing for us to copy.
"I don't know, but I've been told--" We all respond in sync.
"Doing poetry is old--"
"Doing poetry is old--"
Keating joins them, doing his own walk merrily.
"Left, left, left-right-left. Left, left, left-right-left. Left, halt!" He chants, grinning at us all uncontrollably.
The three of my friends stop, returning to the line of pupils with grins on their faces.
"Thank you, gentlemen. If you noticed, everyone started off with their own stride, their own pace."
"Mr. Pitts, taking his time. He knew he'll get there one day. Mr. Cameron, you could see him thinking, 'Is this right? It might be right. It might be right. I know that. Maybe not. I don't know.'"
I looked down the row, watching as Cameron's face turned red in an instant. He was kicking the grit on the ground and it created a small pit of sympathy for him in my stomach. Pitts was equally as flushed, but covered it up better with a laugh.
"Mr. Overstreet, driven by deeper force. Yes. We know that. All right. Now, I didn't bring them up here to ridicule them. I brought them up here to illustrate the point of conformity: the difficulty in maintaining your own beliefs in the face of others. Now, those of you -- I see the look in your eyes like, 'I would've walked differently.' Well, ask yourselves why you were clapping."
I felt myself smile softly, the sudden unity among our classmates comforting as the unspoken hierarchy seemed to dissipate.
"Now, we all have a great need for acceptance. But you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even though the herd may go, 'That's baaaaad.'"
Keating paused, observing each and everyone of our faces.
"Robert Frost said, 'Two roads diverged in a wood and I, I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.' Now, I want you to find your own walk right now. Your own way of striding, pacing. Any direction. Anything you want. Whether it's proud, whether it's silly, anything. Gentlemen and lady, the courtyard is yours."
