Lessons from Mr. Keating

I always look forward to April every year with my talented group of sophomores. This is when we dive blindly into our poetry unit. While some approach the idea of poetry with excitement and energy, most students enter the unit with baggage, misconceptions, and fear—a sense that their vulnerability is about to be tested.

I open the unit with the famous scene from “The Dead Poet’s Society” (this film instills a passion for literature—heck, a passion for LIFE—within every member of its audience) when Mr. Keating (Robin Williams) demands that the students rip and tear and cast aside the introduction of poetry from their text books in hopes to initiate a new way of thinking—one that exists outside rules, forms, and boxes. My student’s laugh at the boys’ reactions: some jump right in and find it immediately liberating to physically destroy the shackles that have become synonymous with all things scholarly. Some look around before they join, seeking the affirmation and approval of others before proceeding in the supposed intellectual debauchery. However, the scene focuses on one student’s obvious inner struggle with the concept of tearing pages from his sacred textbook and his fear of relinquishing the control and learned behavior to experience a moment of free thought and expression. He eventually is encouraged and ultimately persuaded to join his fellow classmates, but through a method and pace that is clearly evident of his resistance: He tears one page, the first page, out of the book in a meticulous, clean rip guided by his trusty ruler.

My student’s label this poor individual as “dorky” in their minds (while a few of them articulate this vocally); ironically, it is this very student that they are most alike when it comes to poetry, critical thinking, and creative expression in general. Why think for ourselves when someone else can do it for us? Why? Because it’s easier; it’s what we know; it’s SAFE.

Last Friday was the first of several “Poetry Fridays” in our unit. It requires the students to bring in an original poem and, much to their chagrin, read it aloud in class. I love the idea of them owning their work and voicing it to the world (or to our small class of about 20).

I am always amazed by the poems. It’s a tangible beauty that breaks the monotony of formulaic essays and rules, and a “four walled” way of thought. When the students rise from their seats and nervously walk to the podium a certain kind of miracle happens. They, perhaps for the first time, realize the power of words and they recognize an ability that some have chosen to keep buried within themselves. They discover that what they think and feel is valuable. They’ve announced to the world: “Here I am.”

In a world that has been transformed by text messages and facebook and twitter updates, we have lost a little of ourselves. Read or write a poem today— and tear a few “pages” while you’re at it.