Pink Camelia - Neil Perry x Reader/OC

'~ Chapter 6 - 'what was the dead poets society?' ~'

~~~

"Gentlemen, open your texts to page 21 of the introduction." Mr Keating sat at his desk and began to flip through the textbook- "Mr. Perry, will you please read the opening paragraph of the preface, entitled 'understanding poetry'."

Neil looked up, and then began reading. 

"'Understanding Poetry, by Dr. J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D." he took a short pause, before beginning the long paragraph ahead- "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, and question two rates it's importance, and once these questions have been answered, determining the poem's greatness becomes a relatively simple matter."

At this, Mr. Keating raised from his seat, walking to the board and grabbing a piece of chalk. Neil continued reading. 

"If the poem's score for perfection is scored on the horizontal of a graph, and the importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its' greatness." the surrounding boys began to copy the graph into their books, following what Mr. Keating had begun to draw on the blackboard up the front. 

"A sonnet by Byron might score high on the vertical, but only average on the horizontal. A Shakespearean sonnet, on the other hand, would score high both horizontally and vertically, yielding a massive total area, thereby revealing the poem to be truly great. As you proceed through the poetry in this book, practice this rating method. As your ability to evaluate poems is this manner grows, so too will your enjoyment and understanding of poetry."" Neil finished, the class looking as if they'd rather be watching paint dry. 

Mr. Keating simply smiled as he turned back to the class. 

"Excrement." he broke the silence, the class looking up from their paper, completely taken aback- "That's what I think of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard. We're not laying pipe, we're talking about poetry. How can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? I like Byron, I give him a 42, but I can't dance to it." 

The boys snickered at this. 

"Now I want you to rip out that page." 

The boys all glanced around at each other in confusion. 

"Go on, rip out the entire page. You heard me, rip it out. Rip it out! Go on, rip it out....Gentlemen, tell you what, don't just tear out that page, tear out the entire introduction!" 

The boys looked at each other, some unsure, but some- namely, Charlie Dalton- looked positively gleeful. 

"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. We'll perforate it, put it on a roll. It's not the Bible, you're not gonna go to hell for this." 

"I might..." Cameron silently mouthed, before turning to Neil in uncertainty, who in response simply yelled at him to "Rip! Rip! Rip!"

"Go on, make a clean tear, I want nothing left of it!" Keating turned away for a minute, walking into his office to grab a wastepaper basket- "Rip it out, rip!"

"What the hell is going on in here!" Mr. McAllister burst into the room, the boys all turning around shocked, Charlie shoving the paper in his hand right into his mouth. 

 "I don't hear enough rips...." Keating emerged from his office holding the basket, to be faced with Mr. McAllister. 

 "Mr. Keating."