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The assignment was simple: each pair would memorize and deliver a poem of their choice to the class, along with a thorough analysis. Five minutes minimum, ten minutes maximum. Conditions: (1) it could not be a poem of one’s own composition, (2) it could not be a poem already read in class, and (3) it could not be anything overtly vulgar (Keating advised they use their best judgment there).
They’d had a week to prepare before they would give presentations. That was one week Todd had spent on edge, dreading the afternoon period that had finally come.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Neil had said to him that morning, “you’ve practiced the thing a million times. You’ve got Meeks on your side, too. It’ll be fine.”
Todd had managed a quiet “thanks,” but Neil’s words did nothing to quell the uneasiness in his stomach as the time of the presentation drew nearer. Even with Meeks as a partner, he couldn’t shake the fear of speaking up in front of his classmates, them all staring at him.
It was too late to back out now, however. Todd sat at his desk while Keating took attendance, wishing he could have skipped. He’d take a blow to his grade over giving a presentation any day, but he couldn’t do anything to upset Meeks’ marks. Meeks was used to getting all A’s, and Todd wasn’t about to mess that up for him.
Keating flipped through his papers in search of the first pair to be invited up. Martins and Spaz. Todd breathed a breath of relief as Keating joined him in the audience and the two unfortunates rose to begin their presentation.
The two boys read something by Whitman, sticking to Keating’s old favorites. Their analysis seemed to last forever, but Todd couldn’t say that he minded. Maybe they’d go over the limit and put the rest of them behind schedule. Maybe, by some stroke of luck, he wouldn’t have to go today. Maybe-
The sound of lackluster applause disrupted his thinking. Keating called up another pair. They listened. They clapped again.
Soon it was Neil’s turn. He had ended up partnering with Charlie. They read Dickinson’s “fragment 205.” Come slowly - Eden. Simple enough, but with ample opportunity for Charlie to test Keating on his third rule of the assignment. He read:
“Come slowly - Eden!
Lips unused to the Thee
Bashful - sip thy Jessamines -
As the fainting bee
Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums -
Counts his nectars -
Enters! - and is lost in Balms.”
It wasn’t so much the content as the delivery that made the class erupt in laughter. (Neil might have been the actor among them, but Charlie always did have a flair for the dramatic, particularly when he read aloud.)
Keating sat before them, shaking his head in amusement. Todd wished he could do the same, but found that he couldn’t even pay attention to Neil and Charlie’s dissection of the poem. He began to jiggle his leg, desperate to let some nervous energy out somehow.
He tuned back in, but only just.
“-of layered metaphor in her writing,” finished Neil, “making this just another example of-”
Neil and Charlie were all but done. Todd looked at the clock. Their presentation had been a long one, but not nearly so long that they’d run out of time for the rest.
Todd clapped along with the rest of the class, but swallowed hard. Soon it would be his and Meeks’ turn.
Surely enough, once Charlie and Neil had taken their seats, Keating was calling Todd and Meeks to the front of the room to deliver their analysis.
“Mr. Meeks, Mr. Anderson, if you would.”
Meeks shot him a reassuring smile that Todd could not return. His palms began to sweat. Upon reaching the front of the classroom, he turned with lips pressed tightly together. Three seconds in and he already felt paralyzed.
Thankfully, it was Meeks who would be reciting their chosen poem, an excerpt of one of Rumi’s. He cleared his throat and began.
“I died from minerality and became vegetable
And from vegatativeness I died and became animal
And I died from animality and became man
Then why fear disappearance through death?
Next time I shall die
Bringing forth wings and feathers like angels;
After that, soaring higher than angels -
What you cannot imagine
I will be that.”
Meeks could have gone on. He could probably have regurgitated countless lines of poetry if it wouldn’t have taken up the whole ten minutes. Todd’s stomach turned, wishing to God that it could have. Now it was his turn to speak.
He faced the class, taking in the twenty pairs of eyes fixed on him. He cleared his throat.
“Rumi,” he began, voice tight, “was a Sufi poet active in Persia during the thirteenth century. This fragment-”
Across the room, Neil gave him an encouraging smile.
“-is just a… fragment… of… of-”
His heart rate picked up. He couldn’t remember what he was supposed to say.
“Of a much larger composition spanning hundreds of lines,” Meeks supplied, coming to his rescue, “that have been translated into over fifty languages.”
“The purpose of the poem,” Todd tried again, trying to keep his cool, “is to pose a question about our mortality and our fear of dying. Even the word ‘death’ carries a- a negative, uh, connotation. We don’t-”
His mouth went dry.
“-we don’t want to die-”
In that moment, though, he really did. Everyone stared at him as he struggled to recall what came next. He couldn’t take it.
“But Rumi- he makes us… he makes us reconsider how… how… how-”
He suddenly didn’t know what he was talking about. He opened and closed his mouth. No sound came out. Towards the back of the room, someone snickered.
“I-”
Was it just him, or was someone else laughing now too? He felt his face go red. He stammered.
“I- I’m sorry-”
There was smothered burst laughter. Todd felt a lump form in his throat. He couldn’t breathe.
“That’s enough, gentlemen,” said Keating sternly, rising from the desk he had commandeered for the period, “I want complete silence out of you. Mr. Anderson, if you’d come with me please-”
Todd didn’t need a telling-twice. No sooner than the moment Keating stepped over to open up the classroom door was Todd rushing out of the room, eyes downcast and quickly filling with tears. Keating followed him out into the hallway and shut the door.
“I- I’m sorry, Mr. Keating. I didn’t- I didn’t-”
His voice broke. He was beginning to hyperventilate. He hid his face in his hands.
“No need to apologize,” said Keating gently, taking him by the arm, “it’s alright, now. Take a breath. It’s alright-”
Todd took in a ragged breath and let it out shakily. Keating handed him the handkerchief from his breast pocket to dry his face. He tried to collect himself best he could
“Please don’t make me go back in there,” he said, voice breaking.
“No, I think you’ve had enough for today. Can I trust you to make it back to your room?”
Todd nodded. Keating put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Off you get, then. I’m sure Mr. Perry will be joining you shortly.”
Todd barely registered that last part. In an instant he was turning shakily in the direction of the dormitories and making his way light-footed through the halls. He looked over his shoulder only in time to see Keating reenter the classroom and swing the door shut behind him.
Class was almost over, so Todd had to be quick in getting back to his and Neil’s room lest some student or teacher catch him teary-faced in the corridor.
Stupid, he thought as he climbed the stairs, stupid, stupid, pathetic-
He found his way to the dormitory in mere seconds. Once inside, a fresh wave of tears broke out. They were all laughing at him. He’d let Meeks down. He’d embarrassed himself-
He sat down at his desk and put his head in his arms, shaking. How was he supposed to go back to class now? How could he face them all again?
He didn’t move a muscle until he heard the bell ring throughout campus. He sniffed hard and wiped his face so that maybe it wasn’t too obvious he had been crying.
In a mere two minutes, he could hear Neil knocking on the door, announcing himself before slipping inside, a look of concern on his face.
“Hey-”
He couldn’t help it; as soon as Neil spoke, he burst into tears again.
“Oh, Todd, no-”
And just like that, Neil was coming in close to embrace him, quite literally guiding Todd to cry on his shoulder.
“Come on, it’s alright. It happens to everyone at some point,” he said, voice soft, “here, let’s sit down-”
“They’re all laughing at me,” Todd mumbled, taking a tentative seat on the edge of Neal’s bed.
“Well, there’s nothing funny about it,” said Neil.
Todd shook his head.
“I blew it. I messed everything up. The presentation- Meeks-”
As if on cue, there came another knock on the door.
“Todd?”
“Let us in, huh?”
It was Meeks and Charlie. Todd didn’t really want anyone else to see him like this, but they only wanted to help. Neil let them in.
“You don’t have to hide away in here,” said Charlie, “it isn’t a big deal.”
“Really, Todd. Just some nerves.”
Just some nerves. Some humiliating, project-ruining nerves. Todd wiped his eyes.
“It was bad,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
In that moment, he hated himself. Charlie shrugged and took a seat on the desk.
“Hey, I bet you’ll still get a better grade than me. Neil did all the heavy lifting; all I did was memorize some dirty lesbian poem.”
“Charlie!” said Meeks, though they all laughed.
“I mean it, though,” said Charlie, “Mr. Keating wouldn’t dock you points for something like that. He knows you did the assignment.”
“Yeah,” said Meeks, “and I gave him our annotations to look at after class ended.”
“You did?” asked Todd, looking up from the floor.
“Mmhm. And he said that’d work fine with our presentation notes.”
That was good, at least. Todd sniffled.
“And if anyone tries to give you any shit,” said Charlie, as though reading his mind, “they’ll have me to deal with, you got me?”
Todd nodded his head.
“Good.”
Neil took his hand.
”They’ll have all of us to deal with, right Meeks?”
“You two? In a fight?” interjected Charlie, “please!”
Todd couldn’t help but laugh. Neil faked a look of offense.
“Excuse me, Dalton, we’d make for excellent back-up!”
Charlie snorted.
”For the mathletes, maybe.”
This time, they all broke into laughter.
The next day, they returned to Keating’s class for business as usual. Todd flushed walking down the aisle of desks to his seat, not making eye contact with anyone. Surprisingly, no heads turned in his direction. Once seated, he looked over at Neil and Charlie, who winked.
He smiled to himself.
It was good to have friends.