Whether it was learning jungle survival tactics from “Jumanji,” medical facts from “Patch Adams,” biology and chemistry from “Flubber” or mathematics from “Good Will Hunting,” I consider these experiences pillars of my childhood. I instantly relived the days of my childhood growing up with Robin Williams. I was sipping a cup of coffee in my bedroom the other day when a metaphorical fist slammed into my gut. I am not exactly sure why, but usually I ponder about it for a second, think about the movies they were in or the songs they sang, and keep on going about my day. I am usually unaffected by celebrity deaths. The name of my column, The Captain’s Log, is a reference to the infamous line “O’ Captain, my Captain.” To this day, “Dead Poets Society” reigns as my favorite film of all time.
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I watched the rest of the movie as intently as possible and went home and rented the movie that night to watch it again. Keating was my friend as well and would always be there to lend a line of advice if I ever needed it. Robin William’s charisma and attitude was infectious as he played the role of Mr. Keating, or if you’re slightly more daring, ‘O’ Captain, my Captain.’” Now, in this class you can either call me Mr.
Who knows where that comes from? It’s from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. I was turned around flicking erasers at the cute girl who sat behind me about 10-15 minutes into the movie, when I heard a line of dialogue that caught my ear. I then made it my goal to pay as little attention as possible to this movie for the remainder of class. How dare this lady sit me down and force me to watch something with no explosions, animation or crude comedy? She pulled a tape out of her polka-dotted purse and told the class we were watching “Dead Poets Society.” I was appalled. The substitute gave the cookie cutter spiel about how she wasn’t our teacher and that we still must respect her, but the only thing I was focused on was what VHS tape she was planning to shove in that VCR. I instantly knew that day would be a good day.
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I remember walking into my English class as an eighth grader and noticing that we not only had a substitute, but our substitute rolled in the glorious and coveted TV cart that consisted of a dilapidated analog TV and a 1980s VCR.
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