and you are a liar.
But not a snitch !
Excuse me ?
No, l don't think l will.
- Mr. Slade. - This is such a crock of shit !
[ Trask ] Please watch your Ianguage, Mr. Slade.
You are in the Baird school, not a barracks.
Mr. Simms, l will give you one final opportunity to speak up.
Mr. Simms doesn't want it.
He doesn't need to be labeled...
''still worthy of being a Baird man.''
What the hell is that ?
What is your motto here ?
''Boys, inform on your classmates, save your hide;
anything short of that, we're gonna burn you at the stake'' ?
Well, gentlemen,
when the shit hits the fan, some guys run...
and some guys stay.
Here's Charlie facin' the fire, and there's George...
hidin' in big daddy's pocket.
And what are you doin' ?
You're gonna reward George...
and destroy Charlie.
-Are you finished, Mr. Slade ? -No, l'm just gettin' warmed up.
[ Slade ] l don't know who went to this place.
William Howard Taft, William Jennings Bryant,
William Tell, whoever.
Their spirit is dead, if they ever had one.
lt's gone.
You're buildin' a rat ship here,
a vessel for seagoin' snitches.
And if you think you're preparin' these minnows for manhood,
you better think again,
because l say you are killin' the very spirit...
this institution proclaims it instills.
What a sham.
What kind of a show are you guys puttin' on here today ?
l mean, the only class in this act is sittin' next to me.
l'm here to tell you this boy's soul is intact.
lt's non-negotiable. You know how l know ?
Someone here, and l'm not gonna say who, offered to buy it.
- Only Charlie here wasn't sellin'. - Sir, you're out of order.
l show you out of order.
You don't know what out of order is, Mr. Trask.
l'd show you, but l'm too old,
l'm too tired, too fuckin' blind.
lf l were the man l was five years ago, l'd take...
a flamethrower to this place !
Out of order ? Who the hell you think you're talkin' to ?
l've been around, you know ?
There was a time l could see.
And l have seen.
Boys like these, younger than these,
their arms torn out, their legs ripped off.
But there is nothin' like the sight...
of an amputated spirit.
There is no prosthetic for that.