WE ARE GOLDEN--DEAD POETS SOCIETY

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

the next day

Knox made his way to the front of the English classroom, a poem in hand. 

"To Chris."

Scarlett and Charlie exchanged smirks. 

"I see a sweetness in her smile.

Bright light shines from her eyes.

But life is complete; contentment is mine,

Just knowing that..."

Several other students began to snicker. Knox paused, looking embarrassed. 

"...just knowing that...she's alive."

He returned to his seat, crumpling up the paper. 

"Sorry Captain, it's stupid," he muttered, blushing. Charlie patted him encouragingly on the back as he sat down. 

"No, no. It's not stupid. It's a good effort. It touched on one of the major themes, love. A major theme not only in poetry but life," Mr. Keating reassured the besotted boy. He then turned to Hopkins. 

"Mr. Hopkins, you were laughing. You're up."

The doltish boy sauntered up to the front of the class. His cavalier manner earned an eye roll from Lilith, who hated the boy.

"The cat sat on the mat." 

He looked Mr. Keating in the eye, daring him to argue. As the haughty boy retired to his seat, Azalea saw him throw one of his imbecilic friends a thumbs-up. 

"Congratulations, Mr. Hopkins. Yours is the first poem to ever have a negative score on the Pritchard scale," Mr. Keating told him. The class laughed.

"We're not laughing at you, we're laughing near you. I don't mind that your poem had a simple theme. Sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things, like a cat, or a flower or rain. You see, poetry can come from anything with the stuff of revelation in it. Just don't let your poems be ordinary. Now, who's next?"

He wandered over to Todd's desk. The shy boy immediately tensed, eyes wide. 

"Mr. Anderson, I see you sitting there in agony. Come on, Todd, step up. Let's put you out of your misery."

From behind him, Scarlett whispered, "You got it, Todd."

Ignoring the blonde girl, Todd replied, "I didn't do it. I didn't write a poem."

"Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless and embarrassing. Isn't that right, Todd? Isn't that your worst fear? Well, I think you're wrong. I think you have something inside of you that is worth a great deal."

Mr. Keating began writing on the board in large handwriting. 

"I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world. Uncle Walt again. Now, for those of you who don't know, a yawp is a loud cry or yell. Now, Todd, I would like you to give us a demonstration of a barbaric "yawp." Come on. You can't yawp sitting down. Let's go. Come on. Up."