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CHAPTER TWELVE! ( CALL ME NUWANDA. )
"NO GRADES AT stake, gentlemen. Just take a stroll," Keating said as Knox, Cameron, and Pitts walked in circles in the courtyard. The rest of the class stood in a line, observing the people walking. After a while, all three boys began to walk at the same pace. "There it is." As they walked the class began to clap to the rhythm of their steps. Joan looked at Charlie, confused. He only smiled and shrugged his shoulders, he was used to Keating's unorthodox methods of teaching and preferred to lean back and watch the lessons unfold, while Jo wanted to know what was going on in advance.
"I don't know, but I've been told-" Keating sang and the group repeated after him. "Doing poetry is old," he continued. "Left, left, left-right-left," he began to walk in sync with the three boys. "Left, left, left-right-left. Left, halt!" Immediately the clapping and walking stopped.
"Thank you, gentlemen. If you noticed, everyone started off with their own stride, their own pace," Keating began to explain. "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. Mr. Overstreet, driven by deeper force. Yes. We know that." Joan chuckled at how fitting each person's stride was to their personality.
"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." There it is.
"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.'" The class all laughed at Keating's sheep interpretation, at this point everyone felt quite comfortable laughing in the presence of the teacher, and furthermore, laughing at the teacher.
"Robert Frost said, 'Two roads diverged in a wood and I, I took the one less traveled 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. Ladies and gentlemen, the courtyard is yours," Keating held his hands out, inviting everyone into the open space.
"You don't have to perform. Just make it for yourself," Keating added. Joan hung back for a moment, a slight fear of being judged crossing her mind. Then she saw a couple of boys and girls walking like they were chickens and she realized that nobody really cared what the hell she did. She just began to walk, not really paying attention to her movements.
"Mr. Dalton? You be joining us?" You heard Keating ask.
"Exercising the right not to walk," Charlie replied.
