'𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦'
Neil Perry is completely and utterly infatuated with the juvenile delinquent that attends W...
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𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥'𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞, the morning dew soaking her white socks. The girl continuously itches the skin, the shade changing to an irritated red after the dozens of scratches. The Senior English Class walk down the sports field, their fall athletic uniforms covered with warm protections such as sweatshirts and jackets. They follow Mr. Keating blindly, awaiting his next order with anticipation. They slow to a halt beside the soccer field that is currently occupied by the team.
"Now, devotees may argue that one sport or game is inherently better than another. For me, sport is actually a chance for us to have other human beings push us to excel. I want you all to come over here and I'll hand you a slip of paper and line up single file." Mr. Keating said, raising his stack of folded up pieces of paper.
The students do that is asked of them and are each handed slip of paper. Short sentences or phrases are scribbled in ink on the page. A soccer ball is placed on the moist ground and awaits to be kicked. A line is slowly formed by the students and at the front of the line is Pitts.
"Mr. Meeks, time to inherit the earth. Mr. Pitts, rise above your name. I want you to hand these out to the boys, one apiece. You know what to do, Pitts." Mr. Keating cried.
Pitts steps forward and, with a deep breath, reads off of the paper. "Oh to struggle against great odds. To meet enemies undaunted." As he speaks the world can hear his dull and toneless voice.
"Sounds to me like you're daunted. Say it again like you're undaunted." Mr. Keating commanded with an amused roll of his eyes.
"Oh to struggle against great odds. To meet enemies undaunted." Pitts repeated, this time sounding leagues more interested in what he has to say.
"Now go on." Mr. Keating said, gesturing to the ball. Pitts, with a running start, kicks the soccer ball. It flies forward, eventually hitting the grass paved earth after a few seconds in the air. "Yes! Next."
Another ball is laid out and another boy steps forward.
"To be a sailor of the world, bound for all ports."
"Next. Louder!" Mr. Keating shouted as the line continues to move. One by one people step up and one by one they read poetry off their slips of paper. Soccer balls soar through the air, ricocheting off of the ground once they lose their momentum in the sky.
"Oh, I live to be the ruler of life, not a slave."
"To mount the scaffolds. To advance to the muzzle of guns with perfect nonchalance."
Mr. Keating steps to the record player that he brought outside with them. He carefully places the needle onto the record and music suddenly begins to play. The gleeful tune blares throughout the field, echoing throughout the grounds of Welton. "Come on, Meeks! Listen to the music."
