Incandescently | Dead Poets Society

One

"I used to build dreams about you." F. Scott Fitzgerald

"Welcome to Welton Academy," Father states as the car pulls to a stop outside of a large, rustic brick building. Banners displaying school colours are neatly tucked behind the tangled ivy streams, which hold onto every crack and crevice. I dog-ear the top corner of my book, F. Scott Fitzgerald's 'The Great Gatsby, and tuck it back away into my leather bookbag, a small sigh leaving my mouth as I do so.

Whilst I am, of course, quite intrigued about joining such a prestigious school known for their exceptional grades, there is also a lingering sense of dread because I will be the first ever female student to attend Welton. Ever since its creation, the school has only ever had male teachers, whom teach to an all-male establishment. So in a sense, I am becoming a part of history by being the first female to be welcomed into the school.

I open the passenger door of the car and once I'm outside, the gravel crunching underneath my shoes, I proceed to remove bags and suitcases from the back seats. "It does indeed look like what you described, Father," I comment as I pull out the final piece of luggage from the vehicle. In response, Father simply smiles and presses a light kiss on my forehead, excitement and intrigue clearly evident in his face. 

"Mr. Keating," an authoritative voice calls out, which makes us both turn around to see an older man stood outside the main entrance to the building, accompanied by two other adults. Dressed in a dark, murky brown suit, complete with a deep red tie, the man beckons the two of us forward as the two adults next to him begin to collect all our luggage, so we walk up to him. Father holds out his hand and once the name of the confidently stanced man falls from his lips, I instinctively hold mine out to introduce myself. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Keating," Mr. Nolan starts, to which I smile and say the same back to him. 

"I have heard good things about you from your father, especially in your skills through literature, so I am sure that you will excel as Welton Academy's first female student," he responds before he welcomes us inside the building, after which he proceeds to give us a quick yet informative tour of the academy. Once the tour has finished, Father leaves with him to talk privately about course details and other general staff duties, but they leave me at my dormitory room where my luggage is situated outside the door.

Whilst my room is still in the corridor of some male students in the same year as I am in, I do not have a roommate. In addition to this, I have a small ensuite bathroom inside my room as there are no female bathrooms in the school - at least that I am currently aware of - and it would be wrong for me to be seen in a bathroom designated for male students. With my room key in hand, I unlock the door to reveal the sparsely decorated room; there is a bed, a main desk, a handful of shelves along the wall opposite the bed, a wardrobe and a bedside table, along with the ensuite bathroom.

It doesn't take me too much time to unpack everything into my room, as I know how I want everything to look and once I have my mind set on something, I will not stop until it has been completed or fulfilled. The bookshelves are almost completely full with literature - including novels, poetry and plays - I have several plants around the room, including some hanging plants here and there, all my toiletries have been stored away in the bathroom and all my clothes are hung or folded in the wardrobe. The luggage units I have tidely stored underneath my bed and my bookbag is hung on a small peg on the back of the door, containing everything that I will need once classes begin. 

When I glance down at the watch around my right wrist, I realise the time and that I should find Father before the school's opening ceremony, which starts within the next hour. I make my way out of my room and after locking it behind me, I begin to walk down the corridor towards the Great Hall, but stop suddenly when I crash into someone just as I turn around the corner, who drops their luggage as we topple over slightly.