"Gentlemen, open your text to page twenty-one of the introduction. Mr. Perry, will you read the opening paragraph of the preface, entitled understanding poetry" Annabeth sat in the same seat as the day before opend her text book to page twenty-one.
"Understanding Poetry, by Dr. J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D. To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme, and figures of speech. Then ask two questions: One, how artfully has the objective of the poem been rendered, and two, how important is that objective. Question one rates the poem's perfection, question two rates its importance. And once these questions have been answered, determining a poem's greatest becomes a relatively simple matter." Neil read aloud and Annabeth read along as he spoke. Mr keating begins to draw on the chalk board.
"If the poem's score for perfection is plotted along the horizontal of a graph, and its importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness." Neil continued. Charlie began to kick the back of Annabeths chair. She does not lift her eyes from her book yet she manages to slap Charlie's ankles lightly making him recoil back into his seat.
"Now I want you to rip out that page." Annabeths head shoots up to look at her teacher.
"Go on, rip out the entire page. You heard me, rip it out. Rip it out!" Charlie looks around the classroom and then down at his notes wich where practically useless.
"Go on! Rip it!" Charlie finally rips the page and holds it up in the air.
"Thank you Mr. Dalton! Gentlemen and lady, tell you what, don't just tear out that page, tear out the entire introduction. I want it gone, history. Leave nothing of it. Rip it out. Rip! Begone J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D. Rip, shred, tear. Rip it out. I want to hear nothing but ripping of Mr. Pritchard." Reluctantly the rest of the class begins to rip the pages from the book
"We'll perforate it, put it on a roll." Mr Keating yells.
Some how Charlie had managed to hold his ripped out peaces of paper into a little rose. He tapes Annabeth on the shoulder and holds it out for her to take. Annabeth looks at the little paper flower.
"For me?" Annabeth jokes placing her hand on her chest as if she is surprised. Charlie winks at her and she takes the rose and places it behind her ear. Charlie sits back in his chair and admires the way Annabeth smiled as she fixed her hair to keep the rose from falling.
"I don't like the name Beth" Charlie says bluntly.
"You don't like my name" Annabeth says tilting her head slightly.
"Well it's not your real name is it" Charlie defended himself.
"Well what would you prefer I be called them Charlie Dalton and I won't accept red as an answer" Annabeth asks laughing.
"Anna" Charlie thinks for a moment before giving his answer. Annabeth grimaced at the name.
"I hate it" Annabeth says shaking her head.
"Then its perfect" Chalrie puts his pen to his lips and smirks. Annabeth simply rolls her eyes and chuckles before turning back to face the front.
"Armies of academics going forward, measuring poetry. No, we will not have that here. No more of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard. Now in my class you will learn to think for yourselves again. You will learn to savor words and language. No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world. I see that look in Mr. Pitt's eye, like nineteenth century literature has nothing to do with going to business school or medical school. Right? Maybe. Mr. Hopkins, you may agree with him, thinking Yes, we should simply study our Mr. Pritchard and learn our rhyme and meter and go quietly about the business of achieving other ambitions. I have a little secret for ya. Huddle up. Huddle up!" Everyone stands front their seats and makes their way towards Mr Keating. Charlie allows Annabeth make her way to a empty spot before standing beside her.
