Remember the last time you watched “Dead Poets Society”?
It might be 26 years ago, if your only exposure to this Robin
Williams starburst was when it was first released in June 1989.
I’ve seen it many times, for me it’s like “The Green Mile,”
every time I watch it it’s a slightly different but familiarly compelling
experience.
I’d like to talk briefly with anyone who keenly sought a
good college experience and doesn’t wish it pretty much resembled the main plot
line of “Dead Poets”—see, the intellectual awakening part and the overcoming
personal challenges part ARE the fundamental good parts of the college-level experience.
“Dead Poets” puts the viewer in a ringside seat to see how
it all could happen with the help of a completely decent and completely
sympathetic prof who had the guts and the savvy and the human kindness to help
make it happen.
The part of me that strives to be a good teacher and a good person who awakens
to the full prospect of being a good person is the part of me that wants to
jump up on my desk and join the boys in declaring the very risky and
ritualistic and reaffirming and rapturous farewell to a beloved mentor and
friend.
“Thank you, boys,” said Mr. Keating.
Thank you, Mr. Keating.
Robin Williams (1951-2014), R. I. P.
Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2015 All rights reserved.
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