What Tom Schulman has given to the world of literature and film making is a standard so high it is almost impossible to reach.

As an educator, I have seen -if explored with insight- how his work touches the lives of my students and how it breathes life into their hijacked souls. All the images he projects carry huge, transforming revelations for them.

In order not to compromise the ode with a tedious streak, I have refrained from referring to some other symbols in his timeless filmscript in this poem. Perhaps an updated repost of the poem may follow later. Suffice it to say even minor details such as the names J. E. Pritchard, Cameron and Chat, or nameless characters like the octogenarian in the opening ceremony, or the juxtapositions of numerous scenes in the film, or even the sporadic discordant tunes from blowpipe instruments that are also juxtaposed with sonorous and soulful tunes bear huge revelations for the cornerstone theme 'carpe diem'.

One last word for Mr. Keating, whose last name is said to be alluding to Keats no matter how much he prefers to be called ‘O Captain! My Captain’. Instead of alluding to Walt Whittman’s elegy to Abraham Lincoln, I have chosen to see him as the ferryman, Charon, who carries the dead across River Styx. It is no wonder the Cave of Passionate Experimentation is beyond a stream from the Welton Academy where the ‘four pillars’ of norms are adhered to ‘religiously’ and lessons are ‘peached hard’. As you see, Mr. Keating has the role of teaching the students how to make a beautiful poem of their lives through their deeds, which will earn them a membership into Dead Poets Society in afterlife. Called ‘O Captain! My Captain’, he definitely plays a figurative version of Charon in the film. He is the ferryman reincarnated!

He shows students how to jump onto their desks from where they are sitting to have a different look at the world, which contradicts the school culture dictating them to ‘keep their eyes ‘on the boat!’ Another sweet juxtaposition!

Ironically, there is life on Charon’s boat whereas Welton is more like ‘Hellton’ as the seven students put it. And right on this note, the name Charlie Dalton isn't debaptized into a Nuwanda, 'the new warrior'. Nuwanda descended into Hades and managed to come back. He is the famous Greek bard Orpheus in the film. After his 'phone call from God' prank, he is made to 'assume the position' and get a humiliating paddling from Dean Nolan in his office. Back in the dormitory he is barely unable to walk from the physical pain of the humiliating treatment administered to break him. However, he has been able to withstand the Dean's threats and carry himself with dignity before the eyes of his friends. Like he says to Neil when asked if he turned in the names, "**** it Neil! The name is Nuwanda." Nuwanda is not broken, and Orpheus the wonderful bard is back.

Also alluding to the number of the students who brave across the stream to the cave, the ‘Seven Sleepers of Ephesus’ is another hidden gem of allusion in the film. There seems to be no end for the symbolism in this masterpiece of a filmscript. I must stop before I lose my audience…

I hope you get the cue for these subtle literary representations from my poem and can crack the shell of the others yourself.

On second thoughts, is there anything as ‘minor detail’ in this masterpiece?

When I am visited by an alumnus and catch that happy glint in their eyes, the chances they will start reminiscing over Dead Poets Society are pretty high.

I have felt beholden to Tom Shculman for Dead Poets Society for a long time, so with this poem I hope to be able to express my deepest gratitude as an educator whose job has been made much easier thanks to his genius.

Thank you, and long live Tom Schulman!

I marvel at how differently each of us may see certain things in life and accordingly have different feelings about it. I marvel a lot more at how people spend hours engaged in some petty talk whose script is quite predictable. It is bizarre that this could be happening in a world where uncertainty is the only certainty and change is the only constant in life.

It is no wonder, you will find some other people drawn to a solitary corner enjoying the 'skepticism party' in their heads. They are more often devoid of human company at this wild party, popping their own champagne and spilling taste and color on the ever-changing reality. What is party to the skeptic is discomfort and trouble for the nonchalant. The latter will prefer some small talk under a superscript.

For me life is beautiful, for it offers us plenty of riddles and a clever mind will relish this plethora of choices. Prescriptive texts, however, ruin the party transforming the thinker into a believer, converting the traveler into a waiter. With all the questions answered, there is no party for the believer. With all the treat put on the tray, they will suddenly find themselves holding the snack tray to others enjoying the party thinking that they are still a guest.

So, whose party, whose dream?