I watched Neil Perry take his life twice yesterday.  TWICE! And I wept as my heart broke in a million little pieces, two times over.  I tried to sniffle quietly so my students wouldn’t notice me crying but super fail in that department.  Before I knew it, I was a sniveling idiot.  I mean come on, right? I’ve seen this movie a thousand times and damn, it gets me every single time.  In the end though, after an inspiring week of watching “Dead Poets Society” in class,  the boys had an intense Carpe Diem look on their faces and the girls had puffy eyes and red noses from grief and shock.  Watch, it’ll get them every time too.

Anyway, today I pray that all  students at one point in time meet a Mr. Keating, and have all Mr. Keatings everywhere know that they deserve moments like this one (minus the part where he loses a student and his job, of course).

Langston Hughes’  words kept running through my head as we watched the film.

Dream Deferred or Harlem by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore– And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over– like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

Being part of the business of helping young people make their dreams come true  or at least  help make sure they don’t defer to anything but the voice they need to believe in, I thank my own o captain, my captain for bringing me here — every single day, even if there are moments, much like this one, when my heart breaks into tiny little pieces.

grateful slice:  being a teacher